"Nothing, except to know that 'G.o.d is an ever-present help in time of trouble.'"

"Do you mean to tell me that you applied no lotion or salve? that you did nothing but 'demonstrate mentally,' as you Scientists express it?"

"That was all, Dr. Stanley. I had no lotion or salve."

"How long did you suffer from the pain? I suppose you shrink from being questioned thus by a doctor," he interposed, as he observed her heightened color; "but please tell me--I want to know."

"The burning sensation was all gone at the end of three-quarters of an hour, by the clock, though I confess the time seemed much longer than that," she admitted, with a faint smile. "I was conscious that my hand was sore and very tender as long as I was awake; but in the morning that also was a belief of the past."

"It is beyond me!" muttered the physician, with a puzzled brow.

"But," he added, frankly, "I am heartily glad you did not have to suffer many hours, as I felt sure you would, after seeing the condition of your hand that night. I went to your room with my sister, after attending to Dorothy, but, as you know, failed to find you. An hour later Miss Reynolds astounded me by telling me that you were in her room, asleep."

"Yes, she kindly took me under the shelter of her wing."

"Miss Minturn"--accusingly--"you ran away from me; you did not want me to find you;" but he smiled as he said it.

"It was far better for me, with our conflicting opinions. It would only have prolonged my suffering if you had found me and insisted upon dressing the burns, even though your motive was most kind,"

Katherine gently explained.

"I am almost tempted to believe that, after what I have heard and seen," he thoughtfully admitted.

"I hope you do not feel that I did not appreciate your kindness,"

Katherine observed, a note of appeal in her voice. "I know that you would have done your best for me, in your way. And now, let me thank you again for the lovely Jacks. I have not seen such beauties for a long time. I hope you received my note of acknowledgment."

"Yes, and wondered how you had managed to hold a pen, much more write your natural hand."

For a moment Katherine wondered how he could know her "natural hand"; then she remembered that he had asked an exchange of cards from herself and her mother the day before they landed the previous fall. She had just given her last one away, so had been obliged to write her name and address on a blank card.

"What is this little book, in which you were so absorbed as I came upon you?" he resumed, as he picked it up from the seat where she had laid it and turned to the t.i.tle page. "U-m! another production by that remarkable woman! Do you understand it?"

"I am growing to understand it better every time I read it. There is much that is beautiful and helpful in it."

"Well, one would need to read over and over to comprehend what she teaches, and"--reflectively--"I am not sure but what it would be well worth one's while. But I must go. Dorrie will think I am very late this afternoon. An, revoir, Miss Minturn," and slipping the book into Katherine's hands, he lifted his hat and went his way, while she looked after him with shining eyes.

"Mamma sowed better than she knew, there; the soil is good and the seed is taking root," she told herself as she turned with a light heart back to her book.

CHAPTER XVIII.

SADIE RECEIVES AN OPPORTUNE INVITATION.

The last weeks of the school year just seemed to melt away until only one remained, and this was filled full with many duties, various cla.s.s meetings, preparations for graduating day, cla.s.s receptions, etc.

For some time Katherine had observed that Sadie appeared absent- minded and depressed; in fact, wholly unlike herself, and twice of late she had surprised her in violent weeping. But the girl would give no reason, made light of it as "nervousness," and evaded all questions.

One day, while looking over their personal belongings and packing away things no longer needed, preparatory to their flitting, Katherine abruptly inquired:

"Sadie, where are you going to spend your summer?"

The girl started violently and turned a vivid scarlet.

"I--I don't know, honey. I reckon I may travel some," she said, after a moment of hesitation.

"With your guardian and his family?"

"N-o; they're going to Europe, but I don't care to go with them."

"But you surely cannot travel by yourself," Katherine observed, in surprise, while she regarded the averted face opposite her curiously, an unaccountable feeling of uneasiness taking possession of her.

"I--I suppose I can't; perhaps I shan't, after all," Sadie stammered. "I may go to some quiet place and board."

"Even in that case you would need a chaperon," Katherine objected.

"Well, Mr. Farnsworth wants me to go to his sister in Genesee County. She's a stiff, little old maid who lives by herself, and he says if I will not go to Europe I must stay with her. But I might as well be shut up in a convent, and--I won't," and there was a resonant note of defiance in Miss Minot's voice as she concluded.

"But what is your objection to the European trip, Sadie? I should think you would like it; I am sure you could have no better opportunity than to go with the Farnsworths," argued Katherine, who was more and more perplexed by her roommate's strange caprice.

"Oh! well, I'm not going, anyway, and that settles the matter!"

sharply retorted the girl from the depths of her trunk, but her voice was thick with tears.

Katherine suddenly sat erect, a startled expression sweeping over her face. She dropped the subject, but before an hour had pa.s.sed a hastily written, special delivery missive was on its way to Mrs.

Minturn.

The next evening, after supper, she burst into her room, her face beaming with joy, an open letter in her hand, to find Sadie drooping over a note she had been writing and nibbling at the stem of her pen, apparently in the most disconsolate frame of mind.

She hastily drew a blank sheet of paper over the written page to hide it, a circ.u.mstance which did not escape the observing eye of her chum, and, looking over her shoulder, inquired:

"What is it, Katherine? You look as if you'd had good news."

"I have--at least good news to me, and I hope it will be to you also," was the cheery reply.

Sadie sat up and looked interested.

"To me! How so?" she said, in surprise.

"Well, I wrote mamma yesterday that you seemed to be in something of a quandary about your summer, and as I have the privilege of inviting some one to spend my vacation with me, I asked her if I might have you--that is, if you would like to come. Would you, dear?" Katherine pleaded, with an anxiously beating heart. "We have a cottage at Manchester-by-the-Sea, in Ma.s.sachusetts, which we make our headquarters, then take little trips here and there, as the spirit moves us. Papa cannot be with us all the time, on account of business, but he comes and goes, bringing some of his friends now and then; and, Sadie, we do have very nice times. Now will you be my guest for the summer? I have a special delivery from mamma, who also wants you."

The girl had remained motionless, almost breathless while Katherine was speaking, a peculiar look on her face, which grew red and white by turns. She did not at once reply when she concluded, but seemed irresolute, almost dazed, in fact, by what she had heard.

Then, all at once, she started to her feet, threw her arms around Katherine, bowed her head upon her shoulder and burst into a pa.s.sion of tears.

"Oh! how good of you, Katharine! How good of you! It will seem like heaven to me!" she sobbed, with more feeling than she had ever manifested before during all the months they had spent together. "Ah! I have been so lonesome, so homesick, so--so wretched, and I would love to go if--if you really want me."

"I certainly do, Sadie, or I would not have asked you," Katherine heartily responded, and now feeling very sure that she had done a wise thing, for she was convinced that the girl's "wretchedness"

had proceeded from an entirely different cause than a choice between a European tour and a sojourn with an "old maid in Genesee County."