For several days the relations between the roommates were somewhat strained, although Katherine bravely strove to ignore the fact and conduct herself as usual; but Sadie spent very little time in her room, except during study hours, when no conversation was allowed, and manifested in other ways that she had neither forgotten nor forgiven.

Meantime Dorothy had been ailing more than usual, and, at Dr. Stanley’s suggestion, a consultation of physicians was called, when the young man proposed and explained an operation which he had seen performed abroad, and which he had previously mentioned to his brother-in-law.

The matter was discussed at length, and Dorothy was subjected to a careful examination, and, though all shrank from such a trying ordeal for the delicate girl, the five learned M.D.s agreed that it was the one thing, humanly speaking, left to try.  That was all that could be said about it—­it might, or might not, prove a success.

It was a heart-burdened trio, composed of the father, mother and Dr. Stanley, that assembled in Prof.  Seabrook’s study, after the departure of the other physicians, to talk over the weighty matter.

“Well, Emelie, what have you to say about it?” the elder man inquired of his wife, in a voice that was husky from suppressed feeling.

“Oh, Will, pray do not put the responsibility of a decision upon me!” Mrs. Seabrook returned, with quivering lips.

“What does your heart dictate, dear?” her husband pursued, in a tender tone.

“Oh, my heart rebels against any further suffering,” she said, with a convulsive sob.

Tears started to the eyes of both men at this pathetic wail from the mother, and which found its echo in each heart.

“Suppose,” said Dr. Stanley, after a moment of painful silence, “we let Dorothy decide for herself.  She is thoughtful beyond her years, and I think she should have a voice in the matter.  Let the case be frankly stated to her, and we will abide by her decision.  To be plain with you, I could not bring myself to perform this operation without her consent.”

This proposal met with the approval of Prof. and Mrs. Seabrook, and both appeared relieved when the young man said he would take it upon himself to broach the subject to the girl.

This he did with great tact and tenderness, and, after a grave and quiet talk with her uncle, in whom she placed unbounded confidence, Dorothy said she was ready for anything that he regarded as necessary, for she knew that he had only her welfare at heart.

But Dr. Stanley said there must be a time of “building-up” to get adequate strength, meantime she must try to be as happy as possible and think only pleasant thoughts.

“I will try, Uncle Phillip,” said the girl, with a trustful look in her eyes, “but”—­a wistful expression sweeping over her thin face—­“don’t you think it is strange there is no such way of healing, nowadays, as when Jesus was here?”