“Mr. Evringham said it might be a little damp up here and I was to lay a fire.”

“Oh, yes, yes!” exclaimed Jewel.  “Mother, wouldn’t you like to have a fire while we read?”

Mrs. Evringham assented and Zeke laid the sticks on the andirons and let Jewel touch the lighted match to the little twigs.

“I have the loveliest book, Zeke,” she said, when the flames leaped up.  “My mother made it for me, and you shall read it if you want to.”

“Yes, if Zeke wants to,” put in Mrs. Evringham, smiling, “but you’d better find out first if he does.  This book was written for little girls with short braids.”

“Oh, Zeke and I like a great many of the same things,” responded Jewel earnestly.

“That’s so, little kid,” replied the young coachman, “and as long as you’re going to stay here, I’ll read anything you say.”

“You see,” explained Jewel, when he had gone out and closed the door softly, “Zeke said it made his nose tingle every time he thought of anybody else braiding Star’s tail, so he’s just as glad as anything that we’re not going away.”

The birch logs snapped merrily, and Anna Belle sat in Jewel’s lap watching the leaping flame, while Mrs. Evringham leaned back in her easy chair.  The reading had been interrupted yesterday by the arrival of the hour when Mrs. Evringham had engaged to take a drive with her father-in-law.  Jewel accompanied them, riding Star, and it was great entertainment to her mother to watch the child’s good management of the pretty pony who showed by many shakes of the head and other antics that it had not been explained to his satisfaction why Essex Maid was left out of this good time.

Jewel turned to her mother.  “We’re all ready now, aren’t we?  Do go on with the story.  I told grandpa about it, driving to the station this morning, and what do you suppose he asked me?” The child drew in her chin.  “He asked me if I thought Flossie was going to get well!”

Mrs. Evringham smiled.  “Well, we’ll see,” she replied, opening the story-book.  “Where were we?”

“Miss Fletcher had just gone into the house and Flossie had just said she was sinful.  She wasn’t to blame a bit!”

“Oh, yes, here it is,” said Mrs. Evringham, and she began to read:—­

* * * * *

As Hazel met Flossie’s look, her heart swelled and she wished her mother were here to take care of this little girl who had fallen into such a sad mistake.

“I wish I knew how to tell you better, Flossie, about God being Love,” she said; “but He is, and He didn’t send you your trouble.”

“Perhaps He didn’t send it,” returned Flossie, “but He thinks it’s good for me to have it or else He’d let the doctors cure me.  I’ve had the kindest doctors you ever heard of, and they know everything about people’s backs.”

“But God will cure you, Himself,” said Hazel earnestly.

A strange smile flitted over the sick child’s lips.  “Oh, no, He won’t.  I asked Him every night for a year, and over and over all day; but I never ask Him now.”