“Yes.”

Jewel looked at him hopefully.  “There won’t be anything worse than that,” she said.

“Yes, many things worse,” he responded quickly.  “You might do me that little favor, Jewel.  I understand you go to her with your lessons, as you call it, and your questions.”

“Yes, she helps me; but she takes my books to her room.  I don’t see how I can help it, Dr. Ballard.”

“Well,” he heaved a quiet sigh, “perhaps the attack will be shorter if it is sharp.  We’ll hope so.”

“I wouldn’t do any harm to you for anything,” said the child earnestly, “but you wait a little while.  When people come into Christian Science it makes them twice as nice.  If you see cousin Eloise get twice as nice you’ll be glad, won’t you?”

The young man gave an impatient half laugh.

“I’m not grasping,” he returned.  “She does very well for me as she is.  Now,” he turned again to the child, who rejoiced in the recovered twinkle in his eyes, “you have my full permission to convert the error fairy.”

“Hush, hush!” ejaculated Jewel, alarmed.  “We mustn’t hold that law over her.”

Dr. Ballard laughed.

“Convert her, I say.  Let us see what she would be like if she were twice as nice.  She’s a very charming woman now, your aunt Madge.  If she were twice as nice—­who knows?  The fairy might spread wings and float away!”

They had entered the park and Jewel suddenly noted their surroundings.  “We’re coming to the Ravine of Happiness,” she said.

“That’s the way it’s been looking to me ever since last evening,” responded her companion meditatively.

The child paid no attention to his words.  She was watching eagerly for the bend in the road beside which the gorge lay steepest.

“There!” she said at last, resting her hand on that of her companion.  Obediently the doctor stopped his horse.  The park was still but for the bird notes, the laughter and babble of the brook far below, and the rustle of the fresh leaves, each one a transparency for a sunbeam.

The two were silent for a minute, Jewel’s radiant eyes seeking the pensive ones of her companion.

“Do you hear?” she asked softly at last.

“What?” he returned.

“It is cousin Eloise’s Spring Song.”

The doctor’s words and looks remained in Jewel’s mind after she reached home that day.  She mused concerning him while she was taking off Anna Belle’s hat and jacket up in her own room.

“I don’t suppose you could understand much what he meant, dearie,” she said, her face very sober from stress of thought, “but I did.  If I’d been as big as mother I could have helped him; but I knew I was too little, and when people don’t understand, mother says it is so easy to make mistakes in what you say to them.”