Philip allowed himself to be kissed on the forehead by his uncle and preceded Mrs. Carey upstairs.  He had got the information he wanted.  His little room was icy, and he shivered when he put on his nightshirt.  But he always felt that his prayers were more pleasing to God when he said them under conditions of discomfort.  The coldness of his hands and feet were an offering to the Almighty.  And tonight he sank on his knees; buried his face in his hands, and prayed to God with all his might that He would make his club-foot whole.  It was a very small thing beside the moving of mountains.  He knew that God could do it if He wished, and his own faith was complete.  Next morning, finishing his prayers with the same request, he fixed a date for the miracle.

“Oh, God, in Thy loving mercy and goodness, if it be Thy will, please make my foot all right on the night before I go back to school.”

He was glad to get his petition into a formula, and he repeated it later in the dining-room during the short pause which the Vicar always made after prayers, before he rose from his knees.  He said it again in the evening and again, shivering in his nightshirt, before he got into bed.  And he believed.  For once he looked forward with eagerness to the end of the holidays.  He laughed to himself as he thought of his uncle’s astonishment when he ran down the stairs three at a time; and after breakfast he and Aunt Louisa would have to hurry out and buy a new pair of boots.  At school they would be astounded.

“Hulloa, Carey, what have you done with your foot?”

“Oh, it’s all right now,” he would answer casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

He would be able to play football.  His heart leaped as he saw himself running, running, faster than any of the other boys.  At the end of the Easter term there were the sports, and he would be able to go in for the races; he rather fancied himself over the hurdles.  It would be splendid to be like everyone else, not to be stared at curiously by new boys who did not know about his deformity, nor at the baths in summer to need incredible precautions, while he was undressing, before he could hide his foot in the water.

He prayed with all the power of his soul.  No doubts assailed him.  He was confident in the word of God.  And the night before he was to go back to school he went up to bed tremulous with excitement.  There was snow on the ground, and Aunt Louisa had allowed herself the unaccustomed luxury of a fire in her bed-room; but in Philip’s little room it was so cold that his fingers were numb, and he had great difficulty in undoing his collar.  His teeth chattered.  The idea came to him that he must do something more than usual to attract the attention of God, and he turned back the rug which was in front of his bed so that he could kneel on the bare boards; and then it struck him that his nightshirt was a softness that might displease his Maker, so he took it off