-a Christian Scientist. I suppose that is what you
call yourself."

"Yes, sir. A Christian Scientist. Oh, you're the kindest man," pursued
the relieved child. "I realized in my prayer that you didn't know it was
wrong to believe in material medica, for you reflect love all the time."

While she was talking and wiping her eyes the doctor took the pitcher
and one of the glasses to the window, and stood with his back to her.

"Now then," he said, returning, "we'll put this half glass of water on
the table. I put the spoon across it so, and when Mrs. Forbes is next in
the room you take a couple of spoonfuls and that will satisfy her. You
may tell her that I wanted you only to take it about four times during
the day. If you are better when I come back this evening, I will not
insist upon your taking any pellets on your tongue. Here is the other
glass for you to drink from."

With a few more kind words Dr. Ballard took his departure, and going
downstairs met Mrs. Forbes. "The little girl has a heavy feverish cold.
She understands how to take her medicine. She will probably sleep a good
deal. Let her be quiet."

He went on to the study, where Mr. Evringham was waiting, sitting at the
desk, his head on his hand, frowning at the yellow chicken. He looked up
expectantly as the doctor entered.

"Well?" he asked.

Dr. Ballard came forward and seated himself in a neighboring chair.

"Do you know what you have upstairs there?" he asked in a low tone.

"For heaven's sake, Guy, don't tell me it's something serious--something
infectious!" Mr. Evringham turned pale.

The doctor's sudden smile was reassuring. "It does seem to be infectious
to some degree," he returned, "but I don't believe you'll catch it."

"What are you grinning at, boy?" asked the broker sharply.

"Don't be alarmed, Mr. Evringham, but the fact is, that you have in your
house a small and young but perfectly formed and well-developed specimen
of a Christian Scientist."

"What, man!" The broker grew red again.

Dr. Ballard nodded deliberately. "Your little granddaughter belongs to
the new cult; and I can assure you she is dyed in the wool, and moreover
is all wool and a yard wide."

"The devil you say!" ejaculated Mr. Evringham. "But," he added with
a sudden thought, "that may be a part of the poor child's feverish
nonsense. She was full of talk of castles and giantesses and fairies and
what not when I was up there."

"Yes. She is no flightier than you