“It was exquisite beyond description,” said Mrs. Seabrook, with animation.  “Mr. Seabrook was delighted with it, and so pleased to have Dorrie in it.  It was lovely of the juniors to take so much pains for her and make her the central figure.  The whole entertainment was a great success; your production was very bright and clever, and our guests from outside had nothing but praise for everything.  Oh! by the way, Miss Minturn, my husband sends his kindest regards to you by me.  He said it was all he could do until he could see you personally.”

After chatting a little longer she arose to go, saying she was expecting company to dine with her.

Then she paused and again gently touched the spotless handkerchief bound around Katherine’s hand.

“My dear,” she observed, searching her face with curious eyes, “I cannot reconcile your bright and happy appearance with this; to me it is a marvel, and I wish—­oh! how I wish—­”

She checked herself suddenly, but Katherine read her thought.

“I know,” she said, softly, “and my heart has been full of the same yearning for a long time.  It will come, dear Mrs. Seabrook, if we keep on wishing and praying.”

“If I only knew how to pray as—­as you do!” was the wistful response.

“The Lord’s Prayer meets every human need, particularly the clause, ‘Thy will be done on earth as in heaven;’ only we need to know it was never our Father’s ‘will’ that His children should suffer,” Katherine returned.

Tears rushed to the elder woman’s eyes.

“I wish I could understand,” she began, brokenly.  Then, bending forward, she left a light kiss on the girl’s cheek and abruptly left the room.

There were tears in Katherine’s eyes also, but a tender smile on her lips.

“Divine Love is preparing the soil for the seed,” she murmured to herself as she went back to her essay.

She kept herself aloof from the other students as much as possible until Monday, when she appeared as usual in her classes.  She had to run the gantlet of some inquiries regarding the extent of her injuries, hut she made light of them, and her comrades began to think they must have been greatly exaggerated, and so gave the matter no further thought.

Monday afternoon, when the duties of the day were over, she went to see Dorothy, who had sent her several pressing invitations during the last three days.

“I thought you would never come, Miss Minturn,” she exclaimed, the moment the door opened to admit her, “and I have so wanted to talk over that lovely—­lovely time with you.”

“I have been pretty busy, dear, since I saw you,” Katherine replied, bending to kiss the eager face.

“I expect you have, getting ready for exams, and everything, and I’ve tried to be patient,” said the child, with a sigh, as she recalled how impatient she had felt.  “Everybody says that was such a beautiful tableau!” she went on, with shining eyes, “and we know it was, don’t we?  I shall never forget it; only, it was too bad to have such a scare afterwards and my pretty chariot spoiled.  Wasn’t it lucky, though, that Uncle Phillip happened to come just when he did and—­” but she was obliged to pause here for breath.