en on the street as 'the woman doctor that can make you
well by praying over you.' Then there was the wife of the crockery-store
man in Avenue A. She had hysterical fits, or something of the sort, and
she got well after Miss Callender visited her three or four times. And
another woman thought her arm was paralyzed, but Miss Callender made her
believe, and she got so she could use it. But old Mr. Greenlander, the
picture-frame maker in Twentieth street, didn't get any better. In fact,
he never pretended to believe that he would."

"What was the matter with him?" asked Millard, his lips compressed and
his brows contracted.

"Oh, he had a cataract over his eye. He's gone up to the Eye and Ear
Hospital to have it taken off. I don't suppose faith could be expected
to remove that."

"It doesn't seem to work in surgical cases," said Millard.

"But several people with nervous troubles and kind of breakdowns have
got better or got well, and naturally they are sounding the praises of
Miss Callender's faith," added his aunt.

"Do you think Phillida likes all this talk about her?"

"No. This talk about her is like hot coals to her feet. She suffers
dreadfully. She said last Sunday that she wondered if Christ did not
shrink from the talk of the crowds that followed him more than he did
from crucifixion itself. She is wonderful, and I don't wonder the people
believe that she can work miracles. If anybody can in these days, she is
the one."

Millard said nothing for a time; he picked at the lining of his hat, and
then put it down on the table and looked out of the window. His
irritation against Phillida had by this time turned into affectionate
pity for her self-imposed suffering--a pity rendered bitter by his
inability to relieve her.

"Do you think that Phillida begins to suspect that perhaps she has made
a mistake?" he asked after a while.

"No. I'm not so sure she has. No doctor cures in all cases, and even
Christ couldn't heal the people in Nazareth who hadn't much faith."

"She will make herself a byword in the streets," said Millard in a tone
that revealed to his aunt his shame and anguish.

"Charley," said Mrs. Martin, "don't let yourself worry too much about
Miss Callender. She is young yet. She may be wrong or she may be right.
I don't say but she goes too far. She's a house plant, you know. She has
seen very little of the world. If she was like other girls she would
just take up with the ways of other people an