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-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
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