and sister were thrown into consternation. In the afternoon
Dr. Gunstone came again. He listened to the heart, he examined the
lungs, he made inquisition for symptoms and paused baffled. The old
doctor understood the mind-cure perfectly; balked in his search for
physical causes he said to Mrs. Callender:

"Perhaps if I could speak with Miss Callender alone a few moments it
might be better."

"I have no secrets from mama," protested Phillida.

"That's right, my child," said Dr. Gunstone gravely, "but you can talk
with more freedom to one person than to two. I want to see your mother
alone, also, when I have talked with you."

Mrs. Callender retired and the doctor for a minute kept up a simulation
of physical examination in order to wear away the restraint which
Phillida might feel at being abruptly left for a confidential
conversation with her physician.

"I'm afraid you don't try to get well, Miss Callender," he said.

"Does trying make any difference?" demanded Phillida.

"Yes, to be sure; that's the way that the mesmerists and magnetizers,
and the new faith-cure people work their cures largely. They enlist the
will, and they do some good. They often help chronic invalids whom the
doctors have failed to benefit."

Dr. Gunstone had his hand on Phillida's wrist, and he could not
conjecture why her pulse increased rapidly at this point in the
conversation. But he went on:

"Have you really tried to get well? Have you wanted to get well as soon
as possible?"

"On mama's account I ought to wish to get well," she said.

"But you are young and you have much happiness before you. Don't you
wish to get well on your own account?"

Phillida shook her head despondently.

"Now, my child, I am an old man and your doctor. May I ask whether you
are engaged to be married?"

"No, doctor, I am not," said Phillida, trying to conjecture why he asked
this question.

"Have you been engaged?"

"Yes," said Phillida.

"And the engagement was broken off?"

"Yes."

"Recently?"

"Yes, rather recently. This last winter."

"Now, tell me as your doctor, whether or not the circumstances connected
with that interruption of your love-affair have depressed you--have made
you not care much about living?"

Phillida's "I suppose they have" was almost inaudible.

"Now, my child, you must not let these things weigh upon you. The world
will not always look dark. Try to see it more lightly. I think you must
go away. You must have