“Me?” returned the coachman in surprise.  “Why the bully little kid!”

“Yes, come and be quick.  There won’t be much time.  You watch the clock that’s side of her bed, and don’t you be late.”

’Zekiel followed with alacrity.  His mother, starting him up the backstairs, gave him directions how to go, and remained below.

Jewel, her eyes fixed on the open back door of her room, felt a leap of the heart as Zeke, fine in his handsome livery, came blushing and tiptoeing into the room.

“I’m so glad, I’m so glad!” she exclaimed in her soft, thick voice.  “Shut the door, please.”

“I told you to remember you’d only got to say ‘Zeke’ and I’d come,” he said, approaching the bed.  “I’m awful sorry you’re sick, little kid.”

“Did you ever hear of Christian Science, Zeke?” she asked hurriedly.

“Yes, I did.  Woman I knew in Boston cured of half a dozen things.  She held that Christian Science did it.”

“Oh, good, good.  I’m a Christian Scientist, and nobody here is, and I want to send a telegram to Chicago, to a lady to treat me.  Nobody would do it for me but you. Will you?”

It would have taken a hard heart to resist the appeal, and Zeke’s was soft.

“Of course I will,” he answered.  “Going right to the station now to take Mr. Evringham.  I can send it as well as not.”

“Get some paper, Zeke, in the top bureau drawer.  There’s a pencil on the bureau.”

He obeyed, and she gave him an address which he wrote down.  “Now this:  ‘Please treat me for fever and sore throat.  Jewel.’”

Zeke wrote the message and tucked it into a pocket.

“Now please get my leather bag in the drawer,” said the child, “and take out money enough.”

The young fellow hesitated.  “If you haven’t got plenty of money”—­he began.

“I have.  You’ll see.  Oh, Zeke, you’ve made me so happy!”

The coachman’s clumsy hands fumbled with the clasp of the little bag.

“I can do it,” said Jewel, and he brought it to her and watched her while she took out the money and gave it to him.  He took a coin, returned the rest to the bag, and snapped it.

“Say, little girl,” he said uneasily, “you look to me like a doctor’d do you a whole lot o’ good.”

Jewel gazed at him in patient wonder.

“Who made the doctor?” she asked.

Zeke stood on one foot and then on the other.

“God did, and you know it, Zeke.  He’s the one to go to in trouble.”

“But you’re going to that Chicago woman,” objected Zeke.

“Yes, because she’ll go to God for me.  I’m being held down by something that pretends to have power, and though I know it’s an old cheat, I haven’t understanding enough to get rid of it as quickly as she will.  You see, I wouldn’t have been taken sick if I hadn’t believed in a lie instead of denying it.  We have to watch our thoughts every minute, and I tell you, Zeke, sometimes it seems real hard work.”