A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet.
Pouring the change out on the floor, she counted it carefully three times: the total had to be exact; no chance for mistakes.
Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way six blocks to Rexall's Drug Store where the big, red Indian chief sign hung above the door.

Though she waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention, he seemed too busy at the moment with another customer.
Tess twisted her feet, making a scuffing noise, thereby hoping to elicit his attention, but nothing happened.

She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster, but that, too, proved ineffective.
Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter.

That did it! "And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice.
"I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess replied in the same annoyed tone.
"He's really, really sick, and I want to buy a miracle." ''I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew," she continued, "And he has something bad growing inside his head, and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now.
So how much does a miracle cost?" "We don't sell miracles here, little girl.

I'm sorry, but I can't help you," the pharmacist said, softening a little.
Not to be dismissed, Tess went right on, "Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I'll get the rest.

Just tell me how much it costs." Now, throughout this exchange, the pharmacist's brother, a well-dressed man, stood by silently, listening in.
Stooping down to the little girl, he asked, "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?"

"I don't know," Tess replied, her eyes beginning to well up. "
I just know he's really sick, and Mommy says he needs an operation.

But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money." "How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.
"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered, barely audible.

"It's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."
"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents; that's the exact price of a miracle for little brothers."

He took her money in one hand, and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said, "Take me to your house.
I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need."

As providence would have it, that well-dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a renowned neurosurgeon.
He performed the operation completely free of charge, and it wasn't long before Andrew was home again and recovering nicely.

Talking excitedly with the family about the chain of events that preceded her son's successful recuperation, Tess' mom whispered,
"That surgery was a miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"

Little Tess just smiled, knowing exactly how much a miracle cost: one dollar and eleven cents, plus the unshakable faith of a devoted sister.

(Original source unknown)