“Yes, and I’ve a better idea now of what Miss Katherine once said about God—­that He is Mind and perfect, and if we would let this perfect Mind rule us we would be well.  What was that you read me from your little book about it feeding the body?” the girl earnestly inquired.

“’Mind constantly feeds the body with supernal freshness and fairness,’” [Footnote:  “Science and Health,” page 248.] quoted Mrs. Minturn.

“Yes, that was it; if that is true, people should never be sick,” said Dorothy, with a little sigh.  “No, and they would not be if they only knew how to let the divine Mind control them.  You are going to learn how, Dorothy, and so find yourself growing strong and well with every day,” said Mrs. Minturn, with a cheery smile.

“I wish I knew more about it,” Dorothy wistfully observed.  “Mamma, why cannot we have a book like Mrs. Minturn’s?”

“We will have, dear,” was the prompt response.  “Have you had enough?”—­as the girl gently put away the half-eaten slice of toast.

“Yes, when I have had the milk.”  She drank it all and then lay back, smiling contentedly.  “It is so nice not to have any pain,” she added; “it makes me love everybody.  Ha!  Uncle Phil”—­for the man was peering in at the door, unable to keep away a moment longer—­“come here and I will kiss you ‘good-morning.’”

Mrs. Seabrook could bear no more and stole away with her tray to hide the tears she could no longer restrain.

Mrs. Minturn followed her.

“I am going now,” she said, “but I shall continue to work for Dorrie all day, at intervals, and will run over now and then.  All is going well, so ‘be not afraid, only believe.’”

“How can I ever express what is in my heart?” faltered Mrs. Seabrook, tears raining over her face.

“You do not need to try, for I know it all, having once been almost where Dorrie seemed to be last night,” her friend returned.  “But do not make a marvel of it—­just know that God’s ways are ‘divinely natural,’ and that it is unnatural for anything but health and harmony to exist in His universe.  I have left my book, and you can read to her if she expresses a wish to have you do so.”

There were very grateful, reverent hearts in the Hunt cottage that day and during the days that followed, for Dorothy continued to improve rapidly and steadily, and there was no return of the old pain that had made life so wretched for her for years.

The fourth day after her long night-watch Mrs. Minturn sent a roomy carriage—­the back seat piled with down coverlids—­“to take them all for a drive.”

Dr. Stanley, still governed largely by the “old thought,” would have vetoed such a suggestion under different circumstances, and claimed that the child was still too weak to attempt anything of the kind.  But he felt that he, himself, was now under orders, and meekly refrained from even expressing an opinion.