Katherine's Sheaves Part 18

"Yes; try another specialist."

"No, Philip; we have tried everything--every school, and countless specialists, for eight years," said Mrs. Seabrook, wearily. "I have more confidence in you than in anyone else, for I know that you are putting your whole heart into the case, and yet--"

"What is it, Emelie? Do not fear to speak your mind freely," said her brother, encouragingly.

"Phillip, what do you think of the Christian Scientists? Would it be too ridiculous to try their method for a while?" she faltered, and flus.h.i.+ng crimson.

Dr. Stanley smiled.

"Has Dorothy been talking to you also about the miracles of nineteen hundred years ago?" he inquired, evasively.

"No; what do you mean?"

He related his recent conversation with his niece on the subject, and told of his promise to read the Scripture references she had given him.

"I kept my word," he said, in conclusion, "and became so interested that I read the account of every miracle that Christ and His apostles performed."

"Oh! Dorrie never tires of reading or of asking questions about them," returned Mrs. Seabrook; "but that has had nothing to do with my thought. Something very queer has occurred during the last twenty-four hours. You remember I spoke to you yesterday regarding Miss Reynolds' illness?"

"Yes; you thought her condition rather serious, I believe."

"Phillip, she really was very ill; I was thoroughly alarmed about her. Always, before this, when she has had these attacks, she has been very willing to have a physician, but this time she flatly refused to let me call anyone. Last night she was worse than I ever saw, her, and Miss Minturn took care of her."

"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Dr. Stanley, in a peculiar tone.

"You know, perhaps, that Miss Minturn is a Christian Scientist?"

said his sister, inquiringly.

"Yes."

"Well, I went to Miss Reynolds' room late last night: and, truly, I came away in fear and trembling. I could not sleep well because of anxiety on her account. This morning, however, Miss Minturn told me, in her quiet way, that she was 'more comfortable.' But you can imagine my astonishment when I went to see the woman, less than an hour ago, and found her up and dressed, having just finished a dinner of roast beef and vegetables--in fact, our regular Sat.u.r.day menu--pie and all."

"What! with all that fever?" exclaimed Dr. Stanley, aghast.

"Well, that was the queerest thing about it," said Mrs. Seabrook, in a tone of perplexity; "there wasn't a sign of fever about her and the swelling of her throat was all gone. But for looking a trifle pale and hollow-eyed, she seemed nearly as well as ever.

She would not talk of herself, though; she just evaded our questions--Miss Williams was with me--but ran on about Dorothy and school matters in general, as lively as a cricket. Now, putting this and that together, I am inclined to think that Miss Minturn had something to do with this wonderful change. What do you think?" she concluded, turning to her brother with an eager look.

"I would not be at all surprised if she had," Dr. Stanley gravely observed.

"You 'would not be at all surprised'! Then, Phillip, you do believe in Christian Science healing, after all!" exclaimed his sister, almost breathlessly.

"No, I do not 'believe' in it, and yet I know that strange, even marvelous, things are done in its name," Phillip Stanley replied.

"Has Will never told you that I suggested we try it before having Dorrie submit to an operation?" he added, after a moment of thought.

"No, he has never mentioned the subject to me."

"Well, I did," and then the young man proceeded to relate the incident that had occurred on the Ivernia during his return pa.s.sage and his subsequent conversation with his brother-in-law.

"While I have no faith in it as a 'demonstrable science,'" he continued, "and while there is much that, to me, seems absurdly inconsistent in what they teach, I am not so egotistical and obstinate as to utterly repudiate, with a supercilious wave of the hand, any method of healing that could do what I know was done for that suffering child last fall. And, my dear sister, I am sure I do not need to tell you that I would be willing to yield everything--go to any legitimate length to save our Dorrie from a trying ordeal, which, after all, might not bring the result we hope for. It is a question that remains to be proved, you know,"

he concluded, gently.

"Do not think for a moment," he presently resumed, "that I believe Christian Science could cure her; at the same time I would not object to giving it a trial--making a test--to see if it would relieve her present suffering."

"Why not test it upon yourself, Phil?" his sister abruptly demanded.

The man started, then flushed.

"You refer to my imperfect sight?"

"Yes, of course; you need it for nothing else."

"Pshaw! Emelie; there is nothing that can mend a dislocated optic nerve," returned the physician, with an impatient shrug.

They walked on some distance farther, both intent upon the subject which they had been discussing.

"Well, Phillip, I am going to ask Will to try what it will do for Dorothy," Mrs. Seabrook at length a.s.serted, in a resolute tone.

"Of course, if it is only mental treatment, it cannot do the child any harm, even if it does her no good."

"I hope you may succeed, dear, in winning his consent," her brother returned. "He was rather short with me about it, and I could see that, for some reason, he was quite stirred up over the subject."

"I think it would be unreasonable to refuse to make a trial of it, after we have spent years fruitlessly testing other things," was the somewhat sharp reply. Then she added, as she turned her face towards home: "I think I will have to go back now, Phil. I have been out nearly an hour, and I must not impose upon Miss Minturn.

This walk and talk have done me good, though. I feel both cheered and refreshed."

They walked briskly back to the seminary, chatting socially on various topics, and Dr. Stanley was glad to see a healthful glow upon his companion's cheeks and a brighter look in her eyes by the time they entered the building.

They found Katherine reading the ninety-first psalm to Dorothy, who was lying restfully among her pillows, with a look of peace in her eyes that was like balm to the mother's aching heart.

The moment Phillip Stanley caught sight of Katherine he settled his chin with a resolute air, a sudden purpose taking form in his thought.

"Emelie," he said, in his sister's ear, "will you manage so that I can have a few minutes' conversation with Miss Minturn?"

She nodded, giving him a bright look, then went forward to Dorothy's side, while Dr. Stanley turned to greet Katherine, who had risen upon their appearance.

CHAPTER XI.

DR. STANLEY ASKS SOME QUESTIONS.

"We meet occasionally, Miss Minturn," Dr. Stanley observed in a genial tone, as he cordially extended his hand to her. "I hope everything is progressing satisfactorily in the junior cla.s.s."

"As far as I know, all is well," she returned, her scarlet lips parting in a smile that just showed the tips of her white teeth, though she flushed slightly under her companion's glance. "I can speak with authority for only one, however. I am compelled to work pretty diligently; but I rather enjoy that."

"I am sure you do. I recall a fluent reading from Horace, which I inadvertently interrupted on the Ivernia, last fall, and which must have required earnest application; and I also remember that that same student could not be tempted from her task until the lesson was done," the gentleman rejoined, jocosely. Then turning to Dorothy, he inquired:

"And how does my small niece find herself this afternoon?"