Shortly after the doctor left Carol's room, the maid entered to say the Rector was downstairs. Could he come up?

"I will speak with the Rector before he comes upstairs," Mrs. Mandeville said, and left the room for that purpose.

The news had reached the Rector that Dr. Burton had been sent for early that morning, and he also surmised that the boy must be worse. But the servants had assured him that such was not the case before Mrs. Mandeville joined him in the library.

"What is this I hear about Carol, Emmeline? He is not worse, yet you sent for Dr. Burton before breakfast. I felt quite alarmed."

"We could not understand it, Raymond. I must confess to feeling afraid it was not true. Carol is quite well. Dr. Burton admits it. He says it is a miracle. Carol says it is Christian Science. Dear Raymond, I want to beg you before you see Carol not to say anything to shake his faith. It is so beautiful."

"His faith in what? In that heresy called Christian Science, which is neither Science nor Christian?"

"Oh, Raymond, I cannot help thinking you are mistaken in your judgment. I do not, as I told you before, quite understand what Christian Science is, but this I know, I have never met a character so Christ-like as Carol's. All day yesterday he lay in such pain from those terrible bruises, and the injury to his spine and head, that we could not move him in the effort to ease his position without increasing the pain. To-day it is all gone. What has taken it away? He says the Christ--Truth has come to him and healed him. If we believe Jesus' words: 'Lo, I am with you always even to the end of the world'--why should it not be true? Cannot the spiritual Christ say as Jesus so often said, 'According to your faith be it unto you'?"

"Of course! But that is not Christian Science."

"Yes, Raymond, that is what Carol seems to have learned from Christian Science. Heaven to him is not a far-off locality, it is here--all around him, and God is ever-present Love. His one thought--his one desire seems to be to possess that Mind which was also in Christ Jesus. What can you say against such teaching?"

The Rector had evidently nothing to say. He remarked briefly, "If I may, I will go up and see the boy now. I am pressed for time."

"Yes, Raymond, he will be pleased to see you."

She let him go alone, and did not afterwards inquire what had passed between the boy and his uncle.

Later in the day Mrs. Mandeville took Percy to Carol's room. The boy had begged so frequently to be allowed to see his cousin. "Just to tell him I am sorry," he said.

Carol had forgotten all about it.

"Sorry for what, dear Percy?" he inquired, when Percy, in faltering accents, asked to be forgiven.

"Oh, I think I remember now, Percy, you said something that was not quite kind, but I knew at the time that you did not mean it. So why should we remember any more about it?"

"You are just the bravest fellow I know, Carol. I have told all the boys at school how you stood and faced the bull. They think a tremendous lot of you for it. So it won't matter when you come with us if you can't play football or cricket. You will be the hero of the school."

Then Mrs. Mandeville left the boys together for a little while. Percy was only too delighted to be able to tell Carol of all that was happening at school, the matches that had been played, and those that were to come off shortly.

When Mrs. Burton called that same afternoon, she expressed her great desire to see and talk with Carol. Mrs. Mandeville readily assented, remarking that she felt sure Carol would be delighted to see her. As there were other visitors present, she was not able to accompany her herself. A maid therefore conducted her to Carol's room. Nurse was sitting with him. As Mrs. Burton intimated that she had come to have a little talk with Master Carol, she left the room.

"Eloise sends her love to you, dear Carol. She is so happy to know you are so wonderfully better. We feared so much that you, too, might be crippled for life, as she has been, by a fall. The spinal concussion caused her to lose the use of her legs. We have consulted the first specialists, but they have never been able to do anything for her. When the doctor told me this morning how miraculously you have been healed, I felt I must come and ask you to tell me something about it. Tell me, dear Carol, what is Christian Science?"

The boy looked up, but not at Mrs. Burton. That far-away dreamy look came to his eyes, which his cousins knew so well. It was such a big question to try to answer. It seemed minutes before he spoke. Then he said: "I think Christian Science means knowledge--a knowledge of God; and as we gain this knowledge we draw nearer to Him. Cousin Alicia used to tell me we are all God's children, but we have wandered so far away from Him. We are prodigals, dwelling in that far country where we are fed, like the swine, on husks. Christian Science just teaches us the way back to our Father's house; and as we find the road and walk in it, we lose the evils that tormented us. Jesus was our elder brother who never left his Father's house. Although he lived on earth, it was still his Father's house, because he lived always in the consciousness of good. And that is what we have to try to do. It seemed easier when I was with Cousin Alicia."

There was just a note of sadness and regret in the boy's voice.

"What a beautiful thought, Carol, 'living in the consciousness of good.' But, dear, how can we do it, with sickness, sorrow, and sin, all around? When I look at my wee girlie, I can never know joy or happiness; her young life to be so cruelly blighted through the carelessness of a maid. Every child I see running about free and happy is like a dagger in my heart, as I know that she should be the same."

"When Cousin Alicia came from America after my mother's death, I was very ill, and the doctors said I could never be better. But she knew that I could. She said, 'You are God's child, dear Carol, and all God's children are spiritual, and therefore perfect. Awake from this dream of suffering and pain.' Every day she used to talk to me, until she led me to understand what it is to live in the consciousness of good, and then I was well."

"Oh, Carol, it seems too wonderful to be true! Do you think that something might be done for my little girl?"

"Why, of course. I am sure if you will take her to my home, Cousin Alicia will teach her as she taught me. She is always so happy to teach people about Christian Science. Shall I write and tell her you will take Eloise to her?"

"Thank you, dear Carol, but I think, perhaps, before you write, I must ask Dr. Burton. If he is willing, I will gladly take my little girl to Miss Desmond."

Mrs. Burton did not stay much longer. On leaving, she tenderly kissed Carol. "Dear boy, you have given me hope. You cannot think what it has been to a mother's heart to be so long hopeless," she said.

The little crippled Eloise was watching from her nursery window for her mother's return. Mrs. Burton went straight to her.

"Have you seen Carol, Mother?" she asked.

"Yes, darling, and I have had such a sweet talk with him. He has made me so happy. I seem to see you running about like other children."

"Oh, Mother, wouldn't that be lovely! And is he really well?"

"It seems so, dear. Mrs. Mandeville is keeping him quietly in his own room to-day. But he seemed so well and happy. He wants me to take you into Devonshire to stay with his cousin. He says she will teach us what she has taught him--and then--Oh, Eloise, my darling, you, too, would be well and strong, no longer a little crippled girl."

"What is it, Mother, that he has been taught?"

"It seems something so wonderful and beautiful, dear. He says that dwelling in the consciousness of good is dwelling in our Father's house, but, like the prodigal son in the parable, we have wandered away into that far country where all sorts of evils can befall us. My girlie, we will try to find our way together into this happy understanding of good which causes the fetters to fall. I will speak to Father to-night and ask him to let me take you."

"Do--do, please, Mother."

Mrs. Burton waited that evening until it was past the hour for patients to call at the surgery. Then she went to her husband's consulting-room.

The doctor was sitting at his desk, an open letter before him. His pen was in his hand, but he was not writing. The answer to the letter seemed to require much thought. It was only partly written.

"Are you very busy, dear?" Mrs. Burton said, softly twining one arm around his neck. She was almost nervous. It was a great request she was about to proffer. She did not quite know how it would be received.

"Not particularly, love, if you want anything. What is it?"

"I want to tell you I had a beautiful talk with Carol this afternoon, and he is so kind as to ask me to take Eloise to stay with his cousin at his home in Devonshire, that she--that she might teach us what she has taught him. You know, dear, we have done everything we can--there is no other hope for her."

"And you think there may be hope in this--Christian Science?"

"I feel sure of it--since I have seen Carol."

The doctor smiled. The humor of the situation struck him. He pointed to the open letter on his desk.

"That letter," he said, "is from the Vicar of B-- asking me to give in his Parish Room the lecture which I gave at B--."

"Oh!" There was an accent of pain in Mrs. Burton's voice. "You are not going to?"

"Why do you object? The lecture was well received, you remember."

"Yes, but even at the time when the people laughed and applauded, it seemed to hurt me. I couldn't help thinking if these people, who call themselves Christian Scientists, believe so absolutely in the Christ healing, it was what the early Christians believed, and practised, and they were persecuted. When Christ spoke to Saul of Tarsus, he did not say, 'Why persecutest thou my followers?' He said 'Why persecutest thou me?'

"So I felt that night that the laughter and ridicule of all in the room were as stones thrown not at people, but at the Christ. Don't tell me, dear, that you are going to give that lecture again."

"I am not. That boy's radiant face would come between me and any audience I might think to address. I have commenced a letter to the Vicar, telling him I feel I cannot lecture on the subject again."

"And I may take Eloise to Willmar Court?"

"You may. Should she regain the use of her legs, as a result of the visit, I will espouse the Cause I once derided. After witnessing Carol's marvellous recovery, it does not seem impossible."