A moment more of hesitation, and then the child suddenly opened her mouth and accepted the thermometer.  She kept her eyes closed during the process of waiting, and at last Dr. Ballard took out the little instrument and examined it.

“Let me see your tongue.”

The child stared in surprise.

“Put out your tongue, Jewel,” he repeated kindly.

“But that is impolite,” she protested.

He changed his position.  The poor little thing was flighty, and no wonder, with such a temperature.  He took her hand again.  “I’ll overlook the impoliteness.  Run out your tongue now.  Far as you can, dear.”

The child obeyed.

Presently she said, “I feel very uncomfortable, Dr. Ballard.  I don’t feel a bit like visiting, so if you wouldn’t mind going away until I feel better.  You interrupted me when you came in.  I have lots of work to do yet.  When I get well I’d just love to see you.  I’d rather see you than almost anybody in Bel-Air.”

“Yes, yes, dear.  I’ll go away very soon.  Where does your throat feel sore?  Put your finger on the place.”

Jewel looked up with all the rebuke she could convey.  “You ought not to ask me that,” she returned.

Dr. Ballard rose and went to the door.  “Get me a glass of water, please, Mrs. Forbes.”

“Not a glass.  I want a whole pitcher full right side of me,” said Jewel.

“Yes, a pitcher full also, if you please, Mrs. Forbes.  Just let the maid bring them up.”

The doctor returned to the bedside.  “Now we’ll soon forget that you wet those little feet,” he said.

“That didn’t do me any harm, that clean sweet brook.  Mrs. Forbes didn’t know what was the real matter.”

“What was it, then?”

“My own fault,” said Jewel, speaking with feverish quickness and squeezing the doctor’s hand.  “When I came here I found that nobody loved one another and everybody was afraid and sorry, and instead of denying it and helping them, I began voicing error and calling them names.  I didn’t keep remembering that God was here, and I called it Castle Discord and called Mrs. Forbes the giantess, and aunt Madge the error fairy, and cousin Eloise the enchanted maiden, and of course how could I help getting sick?”

Dr. Ballard leaned toward her.  Was this an impromptu tale, or was it a fact that this child had been coldly treated and unhappy?  “You have a sensitive conscience, Jewel,” he returned.

Here Sarah entered, set down the tray with pitcher, glasses, and spoon, and departed.  The doctor loosed the little hand he had been holding, took up his case, and opened it.

Jewel watched him with apprehension.  “That’s—­medicine isn’t it?” she asked with bated breath.

“Yes.”  The doctor carefully selected a bottle of liquid and set it on the table.  “I think this one will do us.”

Jewel’s remark on the train about materia medica recurred to him, and he smiled.