ical Practitioner, rising reluctantly;
"but I think I'll take the liberty of calling again when you're more at
leisure. You won't object, I'm sure, to my coming in next week?"

"Yes," said Phillida; "I will not have anything to do with the matter
you propose, and I can not see you again. You must excuse me."

"Well, we never get offended, Miss Callender. Christian Science does not
argue. We never resent an affront, but live in love and charity with
all. That is Christian Science. Our success depends on purity and a
Christian spirit. I think I'll send you a little book," added Miss
Bowyer, as reluctantly she felt herself propelled towards the door by
the sheer force of Phillida's manner. "Just a little book; it won't take
long to read."

As Miss Bowyer said this she paused in the vestibule with her back to
Phillida. She was looking into the street, trying to think of some new
device for gaining her end.

"I won't read a book if you send it. Save yourself the trouble," said
Phillida, softly closing the inner door behind Miss Bowyer, leaving her
standing face outwards in the vestibule.

"You had a hard time shaking her off, didn't you, Philly?" said Agatha,
issuing from the back part of the dark hall, having come out of the back
room just in time to catch a glimpse of Eleanor Bowyer. "I declare, the
way you closed the door on her at the last was too good."

"Sh-h!" said Phillida, pointing to the shadow cast against the ground
glass of the inner door by the tall form of the Christian Scientist and
Metaphysical Practitioner in the light of the street lamp.

"I don't care whether she hears or not," said Agatha, dropping her
voice, nevertheless; "she ought to be snubbed. You're a little too easy.
That woman is meditating whether she sha'n't break into the house to
preach Christian Science. There, she's going at last; she won't commit
Christian burglary this time. I suppose she thinks burglary doesn't
really exist, since it's contrary to the unity of God. Anyhow, she
wouldn't commit burglary, because housebreaking is a physical thing
that's transacted on the mortal plane."

Agatha said this in Miss Bowyer's tone, and Phillida's vexation gave way
to laughter.

XXVII.

A BAD CASE.

Notwithstanding Phillida's efforts to the contrary, the most irrelevant
things were sufficient to send her thoughts flitting--like homing
pigeons that can ply their swift wings in but one direction--toward
Millard, or toward that