not believe in the miraculous
character of the cure, how should he explain it? That Wilhelmina had
been shamming was incredible, that her ailments were not imaginary was
proven by the fact of her recovery being but partial. To deny the
abstract possibility of such a cure seemed illogical from his own
standpoint. Even the tepid rector of St. Matthias had occasionally
homilized in a vague way about the efficacy of faith and the power of
prayer, but the rector seemed to think that this potency was for the
most part a matter of ancient history, for his illustrations were rarely
drawn from anything more modern than the lives of the Church fathers,
and of the female relatives of the Church fathers, such as Saint Monica.
Millard could not see any ground on which he could deny the reality of
the miracle in the Schulenberg case, but his common sense was that of a
man of worldly experience, a common sense which stubbornly refuses to
believe the phenomenal or extraordinary, even when unable to formulate
a single reason for incredulity.

After an internal debate he decided not to call on Phillida this
afternoon. It might lead to a scene, a scene might bring on a
catastrophe. But, as fortune would have it, Phillida was on her return
from the Mission, and her path coincided with his, so that he
encountered her in Tenth street. He walked home with her, asking after
her health and talking commonplaces to escape conversation. He went
in--there was no easy way to avoid it, had he desired. She set him a
chair, and drew up the shades, and then took a seat near him.

"I've been at Aunt Martin's to-day," he said.

"Have you?" she asked with a sort of trepidation in her voice.

"Yes." Then after a pause he edged up to what he wished to say by
adding: "I had a curious talk with Uncle Martin, who has got his head
full of the greatest jumble of scientific terms which he can not
remember, and nonsense about what he calls Christian Science. He says he
learned it from Miss Bowyer, a Christian Science talker. Do you know
her?"

"No; I have only heard of her from Mr. Martin, and I don't think I ought
to judge her by what is reported of her teaching. Maybe it is not so
bad. One doesn't like to be judged at second-hand," she said, looking at
him with a quick glance.

"Especially when Uncle Martin is the reporter," he replied.

Meantime Phillida's eyes were inquiring whether he had heard anything
about her present course of action.

"I saw Wi