“I wish to add, Miss Katherine,” her principal here interposed, “that your special contribution to the programme of last Friday evening was exceedingly entertaining; and”—­his eyes resting very kindly on her—­“having learned the circumstances that inspired it, I heartily appreciate the spirit with which you met and mastered them.  Now, Dorrie, I will not keep you from your talk with her any longer,” and, with a genial smile and bow, the gentleman left the room.

Katherine remained an hour with Dorothy and allowed her to expatiate upon her “good time” to her heart’s content, after which she went out into the grounds for a little quiet meditation by herself.

She was very happy because of what Prof.  Seabrook had said to her and the marked change in his manner towards her.  He had addressed her by her first name, too, for the first time, a thing which he never did in speaking to students in public; but there were a favored few whom he sometimes greeted thus when he chanced to meet them informally, and it now seemed as if she were henceforth to be numbered with them.

All the same, she knew that, in his heart, he was not one whit more tolerant of her religious views, and the skeptical gleam in his eyes, while inspecting her hand, had told her that he had no faith whatever that she had made a “demonstration” over a severe burn.  But it was evident there had been a radical change in his attitude towards her; he no longer entertained any personal repulsion, and thus, with the little fire of Friday night, all “barriers had been burned away” and a bond of true sympathy re-established between them.  So, with a smile on her lips and a song in her heart, she made her way to a favorite spot, beneath a mammoth beech tree, where, drawing forth a pocket edition of “Unity of Good” [Footnote:  By Mary Baker G. Eddy.], that tiny book, that multum in parvo which, to every earnest student of Christian Science, becomes a veritable casket of precious jewels, she was soon lost to all things material in the perusal of its pages.

She had been reading fifteen minutes, perhaps, when a muffled step on the heavy greensward caused her to glance up, to find Dr. Stanley almost beside her.

“All inquiries regarding a certain lady’s health, I perceive, are quite unnecessary,” he observed, as he searched her glowing face.  “Pray pardon me if I have startled you, but I would like to know how that poor hand is getting on, if it is permissible to mention it.”

“It is not a ’poor hand’—­it is a very good hand, indeed, thank you, Dr. Stanley; at least, for all practical purposes,” she demurely returned, but keeping it persistently out of sight, among the folds of her dress, where it had fallen when she arose to greet him.

“Miss Minturn, aren’t you going to shake hands with an old friend?” he gravely queried, extending his hand to her, but with a roguish sparkle in his handsome eyes.

Katherine laughed out musically, and reluctantly laid hers within his palm.