One Sunday morning about three years ago, I was on board a steamship bound for Liverpool. It was Thanksgiving Day, too, and high winds and seas kept most of the passengers in their staterooms. All at once, as I was preparing to go on deck, Martha, the nurse of my sister's child, rushed in, exclaiming: "Oh, Miss, do come quick! baby is ill, very, very ill!"
I went and found "Golden Locks" very much frightened, and consequently very ill. I seated myself on the bedside and began to "treat." It could not have been five minutes before my hands were gently pulled down from my face, and a pair of loving arms were about my neck; a pair of lovely blue eyes gazed into mine.
"Aunt Nanna, Dod is Dood," was the assertion; "He's made me well." Then, after a short pause, in a wondering little voice, and with a sage gesture of the head, "Dod knowed I was well, an' so Dod telled me." Then, turning to me, "Was oo prayin' Dod to mate me well, Aunt Nanna?" "Yes, darling," I answered. "And He has!" she exclaimed, and then, after another moment's pause, "Can I det up?" "Yes," said I, and suiting the action to the word, lifted her into my lap and began dressing her. Sitting on the side of the berth it was hard to keep our equipoise, and with a sudden lurch of the vessel, we were both sent rolling on the floor, Lillian on top of me. I jumped up, gave her a "lift" into the berth, and we both began to laugh. With the laugh the last thought of sickness vanished. "We'll sit on the floor, old Mr. Ocean, then you tan't tip us over," called out Lillian, merrily. "We're ajee-obble (agreeable), if you are dis-ajee-obble! But you tan't mate me sick, an' you tan't frighten me, tan he, Nanna?" "No, darling," I answered. "Nothing can harm you, for God cares for you." I noticed she murmured this gently to herself, almost inaudibly, as she had acquired a habit of doing with all the Christian Science thoughts I gave her.
