Katherine glanced up as her companion called her attention to the approaching figure, and saw a finely formed man, tall, straight and stalwart, and, apparently, about thirty-five years of age. He possessed an attractive, though thoughtful, face, and bore himself with an air of refinement and self-possession that at once proclaimed him the cultured gentleman.

A delicate pink instantly suffused the girl's face, and there was a peculiar thrill in her voice as she exclaimed, in great surprise:

"Why! that is Dr. Stanley! Mamma and I became acquainted with him on board the Ivernia when we returned from abroad, two months ago."

"So you already know Phillip Harris Stanley!" Miss Reynolds observed, and surprised in turn. "He is Mrs. Seabrook's brother— the 'Uncle Phillip' of whom Dorothy spoke. He has been in Germany during the last two years, studying in various hospitals, but has now again opened his office in this city. Dorothy is under his care, and he is therefore a frequent visitor at the seminary."

By this time the gentleman had come within speaking distance of the ladies, whom he instantly recognized, his fine eyes lighting with pleasure as they fell upon Katherine. He courteously lifted his hat.

"Good-afternoon, Miss Reynolds," he said, with a genial smile, as he extended his hand in greeting. "And, Miss Minturn, this is certainly an unexpected pleasure! I suppose, however," he continued, with a mirthful quiver of his lips, "it would not be at all proper to ask if you are well, even if your blooming appearance did not speak for you and preclude the necessity of such an inquiry. But to what happy circumstance do we owe the pleasure of your advent here?"

"I am a student at Hilton Seminary," Katherine replied, as she frankly gave him her hand, her color deepening as she did so. "I played truant from school for several months, as you know, and am now trying to bridge the chasm."

"And your delightful mother, Miss Minturn? I trust she is also we-
—Ah! excuse me—enjoying life?"

"Ah! Dr. Stanley, I see you have not forgotten how to exercise your propensity for teasing," Katherine retorted, with a light laugh. "My mother is both well and happy, thank you, and will be pleased to know that I have met you again."

The physician bowed his acknowledgment as he remarked:

"Pray give my kind regards to Mrs. Minturn when you make up your next budget of news for her. As for my propensity to tease"—with a roguish smile—"I had no resource except to exercise it upon the daughter. Since the mother would not be teased and could never be defeated in an argument, I had to retaliate in some way. But what class have you entered, Miss Minturn?"

"I am a junior, Dr. Stanley."

"Ah! then we shall keep you at Hilton for some time," and there was a ring of satisfaction in the gentleman's tones which did not escape the ear of the observant teacher. "Are you aware, Miss Reynolds," he said, turning to her and resuming his bantering tone, "what a revolutionary spirit our institution has taken to her bosom in admitting Miss Minturn?"

"We have found her a very peaceable individual: thus far; she certainly does not have the appearance of being a discordant element," the lady returned, as she bestowed an affectionate glance upon her companion.

But the girl's face had grown suddenly grave, and she now lifted a pair of very serious eyes to the physician.

"Yes, Dr. Stanley," she observed, "Miss Reynolds knows that I am a Christian Scientist; but Prof. Seabrook has forbidden me to make my religious views prominent in the school."

"I understand. Yes, I know that my brother-in-law is not at all in sympathy with the movement," said Phillip Stanley; and at once dropping his banter, he added, apologetically: "I fear that I was thoughtless in referring to the subject in the way I did, and I will not annoy you again by alluding to it in the presence of a third party."

"I am not 'annoyed,' I assure you," Katherine replied, flushing again under his regretful glance. "Miss Reynolds, being a teacher, does not come under the ban; but I desire to respect Prof. Seabrook's wishes under all circumstances."

"All honor to so loyal a student, and I will henceforth govern myself accordingly," smilingly returned the gentleman, as he again doffed his hat to her. "But I must move on. I have to make my visit to Dorothy and get back to the city for another appointment within an hour. I am very glad to have met you, ladies," and, with a parting bow, the handsome doctor went his way, leaving Katherine and her teacher to continue their ramble.

"How strange that you should know Dr. Stanley!" Miss Reynolds observed. "He is the youngest member of Mrs. Seabrook's family, and a fine fellow—a very talented man, in fact. He had begun to distinguish himself in his profession before he went abroad, and now, even though he has been home only a couple of months, he has an extensive practice. But I suppose this does not interest you, as you have no use for doctors," she concluded, archly.

"Indeed, it does interest me," said Katherine, earnestly, "and I hope you do not think that Scientists hold physicians in contempt. We all know that there are many noble men among them, who are devoted to their profession and are most conscientious in the practice of medicine."

"But I suppose you would not employ one under any circumstances?"

"No; I could not."

"You have such faith in your mother's healing power, you would trust her before the most noted practitioner of materia medica?"

"I have such faith in God's healing power that I would trust Him, and Him only," Katherine corrected, gently.

"Do you never take medicine of any kind?"

"No; I have never used a drop or a grain—nor material remedies of any description—since I was three years of age."

"Perhaps you have never been ill enough to need them?"

"Yes, I have needed help at times; but it has always come through the understanding of Christian Science."

"Well, it is all a sealed book to me," sighed Miss Reynolds, with a look of perplexity. Then she inquired: "How did Dr. Stanley learn that you and your mother are Scientists?"

"There is a little story connected with that revelation and our acquaintance with him," said Katherine. "There was a dear little girl on board the Ivernia who became violently seasick the day we sailed for home. The ship's surgeon was appealed to, but he could do absolutely nothing for her; she grew worse every hour for three days, when she seemed to be sinking rapidly. The surgeon called a consultation with Dr. Stanley and another physician from Philadelphia; but every remedy which their united learning prescribed failed, utterly, to afford any relief. The parents were in despair and a gloom settled over the whole ship, for it was reported that the little one would not live to land unless the nausea could be conquered. Then mamma sought the parents, told them she was a Christian Scientist, and, with their consent, would try to help the child. The mother was eager to try it, but the father sneered openly. He had 'no faith in any such mummery,' he said, yet he finally yielded to his wife's almost frantic appeals and gave his consent. The dear little thing was relieved almost immediately, and at the end of two hours, after eating a wholesome meal, was wrapped in a blanket and carried on deck, weak and white as a snowflake, it is true, but entirely free from the dreadful nausea, and smiling happily as she lay in her father's arms and breathed in the fresh, pure air. The next day she was dressed and playing about the deck with other children."

"Well, that was a signal triumph over materia medica, wasn't it? How did the doctors bear it?" queried Miss Reynolds, who had been deeply interested in the story.

"The ship's surgeon and Dr. Fletcher, of Philadelphia, gave mamma a very wide berth; but Dr. Stanley appeared to be really interested and anxious to learn the secret of the sudden cure. He found it very difficult, however, to accept some of our views, and it was too funny for anything to hear him, day after day, trying to corner mamma upon numberless points on which he had spent years of study," and Katherine laughed out merrily over some of the memories which her account had recalled.

"That was what he meant, perhaps, when he said 'Mrs. Minturn would not be teased and could not be defeated in an argument'?"

"Yes; he was very good-natured over it, though, gallantly bearing his defeat, never manifesting the slightest irritation, and was always most courteous. He is very cultured, and, having traveled extensively, we found much to admire and a very delightful compagnon de voyage in him."

Miss Reynolds shot a keen look at the girl's animated face.

"Yes," she observed to herself, "and if I am not very much mistaken, our 'cultured gentleman' heartily reciprocates that last statement." Then she remarked to Katherine: "He is really a noble fellow and bound to make his mark in the world. It is a great pity, though, that he should be so handicapped in his career."

"Why, what do you mean?" exclaimed the girl, in astonishment.

"Oh! do you not know that he is partially blind?"

"No, indeed! Why, he has beautiful eyes!" said Katherine, flushing.

"Yes, dear, I know he has, and there are very few who even suspect his misfortune, but it is true, nevertheless. When he was a boy of nine," Miss Reynolds went on to explain, "his father was showing him, one Fourth of July, how to manage some cannon crackers. By some fatality, the first and only one fired hit a post, glanced off and struck the child in the eye. When he recovered somewhat from the fright and pain caused by the accident, no wound could be found, although there was some discoloration from the bruise; but he said he could not see with the injured eye. The best oculists were consulted, and all agreed in their verdict: 'There was a partial dislocation of the optic nerve, and his sight would never again be normal; it might possibly improve with the lapse of time, but the injury was permanent;' and so it has proved. He can detect light from darkness with that eye, but that is all."

Katherine made no reply when this account was concluded, but there came into her face a look which, her teacher was beginning to observe, always appeared whenever mention was made of sickness or trouble of any kind; it was a far-away expression, as if her thoughts had been lifted above and beyond the world and worldly things.

It was only for a moment, however; she presently awoke to her surroundings, and calling attention to the view before them thus changed the subject, which was not referred to again.

Meantime, Dr. Stanley walked briskly towards the seminary, but with a. very thoughtful face and mien, as if he were pondering some weighty subject.

"It would be regarded as the height of absurdity," he muttered to himself. "But I wonder—I really would like to put it to the test."

Then suddenly straightening himself with a resolute air, he quickened his pace and was soon inside the school grounds, reaching the building just in season to assist Mrs. Seabrook and the nurse in getting Dorothy inside.

"Oh! Uncle Phillip!" joyously exclaimed the girl, as soon as she espied him, for she dearly loved this gentle man, who was always as tender as a woman in his treatment of her, and spared no pains to contribute to her comfort and happiness. "I was afraid you would not come to-day!"

"I know I am late, Dorrie, but I was detained at the office by a new patient, and now I have another coming in an hour," he said, as he bent to touch her forehead with his lips.

"Oh then you can't stay to finish that pretty German story!" cried the child, in a tone of disappointment.

"Not to-day, dearie; but I will come to-morrow, to let mamma and papa go to church together, and we will have a fine time by ourselves."

Patient Dorothy expressed herself as perfectly satisfied with this arrangement, and was soon laughing merrily over some amusing incidents, of which this good comrade of hers appeared to have an exhaustless store.

These visits from her "jolly M.D. uncle," as she sometimes called him, were like oases in a desert to the suffering child, for he invariably made her forget herself, and always left her bright and happy with something pleasant to think about and talk over with her mother or nurse.

He rolled her to her room, where, after a few minutes' chat, he made a brief examination of her condition, with some slight change in her medicines, then left her and sought Prof. Seabrook in his study, for it was his custom to report to him after each visit.

"Well?" he questioned, eagerly, as the physician entered the room, for the child was "the apple of his eye," and he watched her every symptom most jealously.

"I think Dorrie is holding her own pretty well."

"Oh! Phillip, that is the same old story that Dr. Abbot used to tell me before you came home and took the case," Prof. Seabrook exclaimed, in a disheartened tone.

"I know, Will; it must grow monotonous to you," said his brother- in-law, as he laid a sympathetic hand on his companion's arm. "But, truly, there is nothing else to tell you; you instructed me to give you 'facts with no evasions,' and honor compels me to obey you."

"True; and I know you will bring all your skill, all your experience to bear upon the case," said the yearning father, with a note of pathetic appeal in his voice that touched his listener deeply.

"Most assuredly," earnestly returned the physician; but an involuntary, though quickly repressed, sigh escaped him as he said it.

Prof. Seabrook's keen ear detected it and a spasm of fear clutched his heart. But he would not voice it; he shrank from having it corroborated.

"There is one thing more which could be done, which might, perhaps, result in giving Dorrie relief from the troublesome pain," said Dr. Stanley, after a moment of thought, adding: "I have been waiting for her to get stronger before suggesting it."

"What is it?" briefly inquired his companion.

The young man explained the operation, and the father shivered involuntarily.

"That means great suffering—at least for a time," he said, with dry lips.

"Yes," and Phillip Stanley's eyes grew very pitiful as they met the almost hopeless ones opposite him.

"I cannot bear it!" cried his brother-in-law, passionately.

There followed a somber silence of several minutes, during which each heart struggled in secret rebellion under the galling burden imposed upon it.

"There is an alternative which we might try before attempting such radical treatment," Dr. Stanley at length remarked, with some hesitation. "It—at least it could do no harm, if—if you are willing to try."

"Anything—anything that will spare my child to me and save her suffering," burst impetuously from William Seabrook's lips.

"You have heard of—Christian Science?"

"What!" demanded the astonished principal of Hilton Seminary, sitting suddenly erect and bending a look of scorn upon his companion. "You suggest such an absurd alternative as that to me, and for such a case as this!"

"I know it sounds absurd; but, as I said before, it could at least do no harm."

"The suggestion is ridiculous; I have no patience with it," was the sharp retort.

"Well, it may seem ridiculous to you, but if it can cure one disease I do not know why it could not others," the physician mildly rejoined; and then he proceeded to relate the story which Katherine had told her teacher that same hour, but without mentioning any names.

"Nonsense! It was simply hypnotism, mesmerism," said the elder man when he concluded.

"No, it did not work at all like hypnotism," was the positive reply. "However, if you are opposed to trying it, there is nothing more to be said."

"I am opposed to it, most decidedly," said the professor, almost harshly, and his brother wondered at his unusual mood. "I believe the whole thing—root, branch and practice—to be an invention of Satan himself, and I would not give it countenance under any circumstances."

"Not even to save your nearest and dearest?" queried Phillip Stanley, and wholly unable to account for the excitement and irritability of his usually dignified and high-bred relative.

The professor deigned no reply, but the obstinate frown upon his brow and the stern compression of his lips were sufficient warning that it would be useless to pursue the subject.

"Well, it was only a suggestion, Will," the younger man said, in a friendly tone. "Of course, I have no real faith in the efficacy of the method myself; only, as I shrink from the operation on a delicate girl like Dorrie, it occurred to me that we might at least give Christian Science a trial. But I must be off to meet another appointment. I will be up again to-morrow morning to stay with Dorothy while you and Emilie go to church."

He held out his hand, which his brother-in-law grasped and wrung.

"You are a faithful friend, Phil. Don't think for a moment that I do not appreciate you; but I believe I've been out of sorts for several days," said the professor, with a deprecatory smile.

"It's all right, old boy; good-by," was the cheery response, as the young man went out, softly closing the door after him, but with a weary look in his eyes which the other did not see.