Katherine's first Sabbath at Hilton Seminary dawned a perfect winter morning, and, starting forth in good season, she sought the little hall on Grove Street, where the few Scientists of the city met each week to enjoy the service which has become so dear to the heart of every student of God's word, as spiritually interpreted according to Christian Science.

She had carefully studied the lesson during the week, and was therefore prepared to enjoy to the utmost each section as its point was clearly brought out by the readers, to teach and bless; and so, when she again turned her steps homeward, she felt calmed, refreshed and strengthened for the duties that lay before her.

As she was about to enter the building she encountered Prof. and
Mrs. Seabrook, who also had just returned from church.

The former glanced askance at her books, lifted his hat to her with frigid politeness, and passed on to his study.

Mrs. Seabrook, however, paused and greeted her most cordially, whereupon Katherine inquired for Dorothy.

"She was not quite as well this morning," replied the mother, an expression of care and weariness flitting over her sweet face. "My brother, Dr. Stanley, has been with her while we were at church, and I hope to find her better, for he always does her good. Dorothy was greatly attracted to you yesterday, Miss Minturn," she added, smiling, "and I hope you will find time to drop in to see her now and then."

"Indeed I will; it will be a pleasure to me, for I love children," Katherine replied, cordially, and much gratified to have yesterday's invitation repeated, while there was a feeling of deep tenderness in her heart for the long-suffering woman as she passed on to her room.

After dinner she looked over the Bible lesson for the afternoon. She was dreading this ordeal somewhat, for she well knew how widely different is the old theological exposition of the first chapter of Genesis from its spiritual interpretation, as she had been taught it according to Christian Science, But she tried to feel that, if she was called upon to express an opinion, she would be led to speak wisely and yet be obedient to Prof. Seabrook's command not to "flaunt her views before the school."

She hoped that he would ignore her altogether, and thus avoid an awkward situation for them both.

When the class convened she was surprised to find Dorothy seated in her chair beside her father, and learned afterward that the girl was often present during the lessons, always giving the closest attention to what was said, even asking questions occasionally that puzzled wiser heads than hers.

As was his custom, Prof. Seabrook opened the exercises with prayer, followed by a familiar hymn. Then he gave a short talk upon the first chapter of Genesis, as a whole, preliminary to a more general discussion of it.

He showed himself to have been a critical student of the Bible, and his remarks were extremely interesting along the line of his own views. His rhetoric was flawless, his figures apt and beautiful, his points well made, and he held the undivided attention of everyone to the end.

"I have given you this talk upon creation as a whole," he remarked, in conclusion, "because the subject is too intricate and vast to be discussed in detail—that would require much study and many sittings—and we will spend the remainder of the hour upon two questions: What is God? What is man and his relation to God? Miss Walton, will you tell us what God is, from your point of view?"

Miss Walton instantly became confused. She had no clear ideas about God, and after nervously turning the leaves of her Bible for a moment and blushing furiously, finally said so. The principal called upon several others, with a similar result. Everyone loved to listen to him, for his graceful diction was like music in their ears, but when called upon to express their own opinions they were all, with a few exceptions, literally tongue-tied. Two or three of the more thoughtful ones made an attempt to define Deity, but their definitions, for the most part, were the hackneyed ones of old theology.

The professor began to look rather weary, especially as he detected, here and there, a yawn behind an uplifted book. All at once a peculiar gleam leaped into his eyes.

"Miss Minturn, what is your conception of God?" he inquired, turning abruptly to her.

The question came almost as an electric shock to Katherine and brought the quick color to her cheeks.

But she quelled this sense of disquiet instantly.

"God is Spirit," she quietly replied.

"You mean that God is a spirit," quickly corrected the professor. "That definition has already been given several times; but I am trying to ascertain your own conception of Deity. Why did you omit the article?"

Katherine lifted her earnest brown eyes to him, and in them he read an expression of mingled surprise and appeal, and he knew, as well as if she had voiced her thought, that she remembered he had forbidden her to express her peculiar views and wished to obey him to the letter.

But having put the question, he intended to have an answer of some kind, while he also experienced some curiosity as to whether she could give a comprehensive explanation of the term she had used.

"If you purposely omitted the article," he resumed, as she was not quick to reply, "you must have had a reason for so doing; and,"— with a more courteous inflection—"as there is supposed to be perfect freedom in the class, both in asking questions and expressing opinions, we would like you to explain your position."

"The term 'a spirit' implies one of a kind, or, one of many, does it not? But I understand God to be Infinite Spirit," Katherine replied, with quiet self-possession.

"Well, what do you mean by 'infinite spirit?' Define 'spirit,' if you please."

Katherine was amazed that he should thus pursue the subject. She wondered if he could be utterly ignorant of the scientific definition of God. She had supposed that he must have read something on the subject of Christian Science, or he would not have been so bitterly opposed to it, or, was he only trying to drive her into a corner?

However, she saw there was no escape but to follow his lead. He had now given her license to speak, and she felt that she had no right to neglect her opportunity.

"Spirit is Mind, Intelligence, Life," she said, using some of the terms she had employed in talking with Miss Reynolds the previous day, and which she thought would be readily understood by the class.

"Why, Prof. Seabrook," here interposed one of the seniors, her face aglow, her eyes alight, "I like that definition of God. I never heard it before, but it appeals to me."

The gentleman flushed slightly and acknowledged the observation with a grave bow, then inquired of Katherine: "And are you satisfied with that concept of God, Miss Minturn?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't you think it rather a vague, visionary idea of the Almighty?" queried the gentleman, with a scornful dilation of his thin nostrils. "Do you associate no thought of individuality or personality with Him?"

"Do you mean as human beings are personal and individual?"
Katherine respectfully inquired.

"Well, I must at least have something more tangible than an unknown quantity for my God," he replied, evasively, as he hurriedly began to turn the leaves of his Bible in search of a text. "He is spoken of as a king, ruler, judge, and so forth, and those terms certainly convey the idea of personality."

"But can you limit or outline Deity, sir? Would not that destroy the omnipresence of God?"

Again the man changed color a trifle, while, as he continued to search the pages of his Bible, he became conscious of a sudden inward shock.

The question had started a new train of thought. Certainly, infinity, omnipresence, could neither be limited nor outlined; those were self-evident facts.

There was no yawning in the class now. The attention of everyone was riveted upon the speakers, while Dorothy leaned forward in her chair, her earnest eyes glancing from one face to the other, her eager ears drinking in their every word.

"But what do you say to this passage from Hebrews, Miss Minturn, where Paul, speaking of Christ, calls Him the express image of His—God's—person?" [Footnote: Hebrews, 1-3.] demanded the professor—having found the text he was looking for—with a note of triumph in his tone which indicated that he had now propounded an unanswerable argument.

"I have been told that the Greek word, which has been translated 'person' in the text you have read, really means character, and it is so rendered in my Bible, which is the revised version," Katherine replied, as she opened her book and found the passage.

Now Prof. Seabrook, although he prided himself upon being strictly up to date in everything pertaining to his profession, had neglected to provide himself with the revised version of the New Testament. However, now that his attention was called to the fact, he remembered having heard this text and its change discussed among brother professors, but it had for the moment escaped his memory.

Yet he was equal to the occasion, and no one would have suspected from his manner that he was deeply chagrined to find this young girl so well versed in the Scriptures and able to so logically sustain her position upon every point.

"Ah!" he observed, after a moment of thought, and in his blandest tone, "I have a Greek Testament in my study and will look up the word later. I find we cannot take up the other question to-day, as our time has expired, and"—closing his books—"we will leave it for another lesson. The class is dismissed."

He arose as he concluded, and the young ladies filed quietly out of the room; but, once beyond hearing, they gathered in groups to talk over the interesting discussion that had been so suddenly cut short.

Katherine paused beside Dorothy's chair on her way out, and made some pleasant reference to their meeting of the previous day, and then would have passed on, but the girl threw out her hand and caught hers, thus detaining her.

"You must have studied the Bible a great deal, Miss Minturn, to get such lovely thoughts about God," she said, in an eager tone.

Katherine flushed, for she knew Prof. Seabrook was listening, and felt that she had already said enough regarding her views.

"Yes, I am very fond of studying the Bible," she simply returned.

"Papa," continued Dorothy, turning to him, "how could you say that
Miss Minturn's idea of God is vague and visionary?"

"It certainly seems so to me, dear," her father briefly returned.

"Well, it doesn't to me," was the positive rejoinder; "not half so—so queer as to think of Him as a man, or three men all mixed up together in one, and able to be everywhere at once," and there was a look of thoughtfulness in the girl's large, blue eyes which betrayed a mind on the alert.

"I think we will not talk any more about that now," said her father. "You must be tired from sitting here so long, and ought to rest."

"You know I never get tired in the Sunday class, papa," cried Dorothy, and still clinging to Katherine, who had tried to release her hand, for she was anxious to escape further argument. "And," she added, "I want to ask Miss Minturn another question."

"I think I will have to run away, dear," Katherine interposed, "for it is almost tea time, you know."

"Please—please! haven't you time to tell me just one thing more?"

"Yes, I have time for that, but—" and she lifted a doubtful look to her principal.

"Papa, may I ask her?" pleaded the girl, intuitively realizing that her new friend feared his disapproval.

The man never refused his child anything in reason, and he could not now, although he felt secretly antagonistic, and his look was almost stern as he responded:

"Very well, dear, if Miss Minturn will kindly have patience with you."

"Well, then," and Dorothy eagerly turned again to Katherine, "if
God is Mind, Intelligence and Life, as you said, how can man be
His image and likeness?"

For a moment Katherine was dismayed, in view of the depths involved in this query, and at a loss how to reply in a way to clearly convey the truth to this inquiring mind, while a slightly ironical smile curved the lips of the learned professor, as he said to himself:

"This is a poser for the young woman."

"You do not think the account of the creation of man as God's image and likeness refers to this imperfect mortal or physical body, do you, Dorothy?" she inquired, after a moment of thought.

"Why, yes; I've always supposed it did. I've thought that perhaps God made him perfect in the first place and then, somehow, He let him get all wrong. I can't see how or why, though I've heard ministers and other people say 'it was for some wise purpose.' It's a great muddle, I think," Dorothy concluded, with a sigh.

"No, God never let any of His children 'get wrong.' He could not, for 'all His ways are perfect,' you know. The man of God's creating is the spiritual image and likeness of Himself," Katherine explained.

"Oh-o! I begin to see. Why, papa, don't you see? That must be what that verse means—the express image of His person—His character!" and Dorothy turned to her father, her face all aglow as she grasped this new thought.

"No, don't go just yet," she pleaded, as Katherine made another effort to release her hand. "Tell me this, please: if everybody became good, perfect in character, would their bodies grow perfect, too? would sick people get strong and well and happy?"

"I believe God's Word teaches us so," said Katherine, softly, and wondering why Prof. Seabrook did not put a stop to a conversation which he must know was trespassing upon forbidden ground.

"How could they? I wish I knew how," said the child, plaintively.

"You know Paul tells us, 'Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind,' and to 'put off the mortal and put on the immortal.'"

"'Put off the mortal,'" repeated the girl, with a look of perplexity, "but how?"

"It is a growth, dear; it is to put out of mind, one by one, every wrong thought, and think only good thoughts—God's thoughts—and in this way one grows good, pure and perfect. Let us take a simple illustration," Katherine continued, as she saw how eagerly the child was drinking in her words. "You have seen a lily bulb?"

Dorothy nodded.

"It is not at all pretty, and one would throw it away as of no account, if he did not know of the precious little germ and its possibilities hidden away inside. We know how, when the warm sunlight shines upon the spot where it has been put away in the earth, when the dews and soft rains fall upon it, something begins to happen down there in the dark; the ugly bulb begins to change, to soften and melt away; one by one the brown husks drop off and disappear as the tiny germ within, awakening to a new sense of life, starts upward to find more light and freedom and a purer atmosphere. Then two small leaves of living green—harbingers of better things—begin to unfold; after that a sturdy stalk, with a bud of promise, appears, and all the time reaching up, up towards the brightness beyond and above, until at last the pure, perfect and fragrant lily bursts into bloom."

"That was very prettily told, Miss Minturn; but your figure is incomplete, for, after all, you have only a material flower—it is far from being spiritual or immortal," Prof. Seabrook here interposed.

"Ah!" said Katherine, lifting a pair of sweetly serious eyes to him, "it is only a simple illustration—a little parable pointing to spiritual development and perfection, and the pure and flawless lily is but the type of that which mortal 'eye hath not seen.' The homely bulb corresponds to the mortal man, wrapped up in the density and husks of materiality; the tiny 'germ is the symbol of that ray or spark of immortality that is in every human consciousness and which, governed by the perfect law of Life, 'whose eternal mandate is growth,' [Footnote: "Science and Health," page 520.] and nourished by the sunlight of divine Love, puts off, one by one, the husks, or the mortal man's wrong ways of thinking and living, and, ever reaching Godward, puts on or unfolds first the tiny leaves of living green, then the stalk and bud, and, last, the white flower of purity, which is the image and likeness of God; and this image and likeness is immortal."

"Oh, what a lovely—lovely story!" breathed Dorothy, with luminous eyes. "Then, if one never had any but good thoughts, perfect thoughts, one would grow to be perfect and spiritual."

"That is what I think the Bible teaches."

"I think it is beautiful. I never heard anybody talk like this before!" cried the child, with a joyful ring in her tones. "And now tell me how—"

Katherine laughed out musically, and, stooping, kissed the small hand that she was still holding.

"You dear child! do you know how long we have been talking?" she said. "I think we must stop right here, and—I hope Prof. Seabrook does not think I have said too much," she concluded, glancing at the man who stood like a statue, with an inscrutable look on his high-bred face.

He made no reply, and the situation might have become awkward if
Dorothy had not exclaimed:

"No, indeed; you haven't said half enough; and will you tell me some more things that you believe, another time?"

"If—your father gives me permission," Katherine replied, with heightened color. "Now I must go, for I am sure the bell will ring in a few minutes."

"Will you—may I kiss you before you go?" begged the girl, who was used to much petting from everyone, and lifting her pale face to the bright one looking down upon her and which seemed to radiate love.

"Yes, indeed," said Katherine, and heartily returned the caress.

"Now, good-by," she added, and, with a respectful bow to her principal, left the room, whispering to herself as she tried to put out of thought the misshapen little figure in the chair:

"God never made one of His children imperfect. He made man upright, and there is no power apart from God."