Katherines Sheaves | Page 9

gently.
"Humph! 'At all times and under all circumstances overcome evil with
good,'" [Footnote: "Science and Health," page 571.] she read from the
page to which she had opened. "That's just another version of the
'golden rule,' isn't it?" Then, turning a leaf, she read from the next page:
"'Love fulfills the law in Christian Science.' Humph!" she ejaculated
again, as she put the volume down, "so you are a Christian Scientist! I
heard about it downstairs."
"Yes," quietly returned Katherine.
"And do you really believe all they tell about the wonderful cures
and--and the rest of it?" Sadie demanded, with curling lips.

"Yes."
"Tell me about some of them," said the girl, eagerly, her curiosity
aroused.
"Excuse me, Miss Minot; I cannot, for Prof. Seabrook has forbidden me
to say anything about the subject here," Katherine returned.
"Yes, I heard that, too," said Sadie, with a nod. "Well, the professor is
dead set against it, and I'm down on it right smart myself. You
see"--with a superior air--"I'm an Episcopalian; my grandfather was an
Episcopalian clergyman, a rector, you know, and"--with a shrug and
laugh--"I'm afraid he wouldn't rest easy in his grave if he knew I had
such a rank heretic for a roommate. But"--leaning forward and smiling
into her companion's eyes-- "aside from that I like you right well, Miss
Minturn, and if we leave this subject alone I reckon we'll get along
pretty comfortably together; what do you say?"
"I am sure we will," cordially assented Katherine, "and"--with a merry
twinkle in her eyes--"if you do not broach it, you may confidently rely
upon my discretion."
"I own up," good-naturedly returned her chum. "I did broach it this
time; but"--flushing slightly--"something had to be said to get it out of
the way, don't you know? And may I--would you like me to call you
Katherine?"
"With all my heart, Sadie."
The two girls smiled into each other's eyes; the last vestige of formality
was swept away, and the atmosphere was clear.
CHAPTER III.
DOROTHY.
The midwinter term at Hilton Seminary had opened on Wednesday,
and the remainder of the week passed quickly and uneventfully as

Katherine fell easily into the ways of the institution and found herself
getting well started in her various studies.
Her relations with her roommate were most harmonious, but the
majority of the students either ignored her altogether or treated her with
a coldness that, had she not had her "Science" to sustain and comfort
her, would have made her lot hard indeed to bear.
She had not met the professor again, except in the class room, where he
had seemed to be wholly absorbed in his duties as instructor and
oblivious of the personality of the students.
On Saturday afternoon she was introduced to Mrs. Seabrook while
strolling in the grounds with Miss Reynolds, between whom and
herself a growing friendliness was asserting itself. The professor's wife
was walking beside a wheel-chair, which was being propelled by a
nurse in cap and apron, and in which was seated-- propped up by
pillows--a young girl who appeared to be about seven or eight years of
age, although her serious, pain-lined face and thoughtful eyes seemed,
by right, to belong to an older person.
Miss Reynolds paused on meeting this trio and introduced Katherine to
Mrs. Seabrook, who greeted her with a sweet cordiality that at once
won the girl's heart.
"I heard that we had a new student among us," she said, as she warmly
clasped Katherine's hand, "and I hope you are going to be very happy
with us, Miss Minturn."
"Thank you; not 'going to be'--I already am happy here," she cheerily
and truthfully replied, for she had become deeply interested in her work,
and, as she dearly loved to study, she was content to leave her social
relations to be governed by the love she was "trying to live."
"This is my daughter," Mrs. Seabrook continued, as she turned a fond
look upon the pale, pinched face among the pillows. "Dorothy, this is
the young lady whom you have been wishing to see."

Katherine bent down, took the small mittened hand that was extended
to her and smiled into the grave, searching eyes that were earnestly
studying her face.
"And I also have been wishing to see Dorothy," she said, with a note of
tenderness in her tone that caused the slender fingers inside the mitten
to close more firmly over her own. "I am very fond of little people."
"I should not be so 'little' if I were well," Dorothy returned, with a faint
sigh. Then, glancing up at her attendant, she added: "This is my nurse,
Alice, and she has to wheel me about because I cannot walk."
Katherine bestowed a friendly look and nod upon Alice; then a great