“But they maintain that it is founded on the Bible.”

“True; and that is wherein it is most harmful.  It is the false teaching calculated to ‘deceive the very elect.’  Emelie, it irritates me to talk about it; let us drop it, please,” and with a frowning brow the man arose and restlessly paced the floor.

“Then you will not consent to try the healing for Dorothy?” and there was a plaintive note in the weary mother’s voice which smote painfully upon the husband’s ears.

“No.”

That ended the conversation, and with a heavy heart Mrs. Seabrook went back to her child to take up her accustomed night vigil, but with a secret sense of injustice and rebellion such as she had seldom experienced.

That same evening, after supper, when Katherine went to her room she found Sadie dressing to go out.

The girl looked flushed and excited, a condition so at variance with her usual composure and languid manner that Katherine regarded her with surprise.  She was also making a rather elaborate toilet, and she wondered where she could be going.

“Oh! honey,” she exclaimed, as her chum appeared in the doorway, “don’t you want to come with me?”

“Where?  Is there a theater party on the tapis?” Katherine inquired, as she watched a labored effort to tie a coquettish bow at her throat.

“Oh! no; I have to go down to Madam Alberti’s for my new hat.  I want it for church to-morrow,” Sadie explained.  “I have permission, but can’t go alone, you know.  Annie Fletcher was going with me, but her brother has just come—­so that’s off.”

“Why, yes; I’d like the walk,” said Katherine, with animation.  “But I supposed, from the ‘fuss and feathers’ you are putting on, that you were bound either for the theater or to make a fashionable call.”

“Well—­you know it doesn’t get dark very early now, and one meets so many people on the street, especially on Saturday evening, one must look passable,” Sadie returned, but the flush on her cheeks grew brighter while she spoke.

Katherine hastily donned her hat, and, taking a light wrap on her arm, signified her readiness to accompany her.

On their way downstairs Miss Minot stopped at Miss Williams’ door.

“I’ve got to tell her that Annie can’t go, and I am taking you in her place,” she said, as she rapped for admittance.

“Of course, Miss Minturn can go if she has no special duties,” Miss Williams observed, when the matter was explained to her.  “And,” she added, archly, “I think the change is all for the best, for when I allow two mischief-loving girls, like you and Annie, to go off by themselves, I sometimes have rather more of a sense of responsibility than is comfortable.”

“Now, Miss Williams, that is rather hard on Annie and me,” drawled Sadie, while the quick color flew to her face again, “though I’m sure it’s a right smart compliment to Katherine.  But thank you all the same for permission, and—­I reckon you’ll feel perfectly ’com-fortable’—­you’ll not be afraid there’s any mischief brewing now,” she concluded, demurely.