rested, for
your mother told me--And the doctor--?"

"Is a very fine man," returned Eloise gravely, as he paused.

Bonnell's mental questions were answered by her manner. He put his hand
in the pocket of his sack coat and drew out a small, thin, black book.

Eloise took it. "'Unity of Good,'" she read on its cover. "I haven't
seen this one," she said eagerly.

"You will," he replied.

She looked up. "Do you know, I thought just now you were going to take
out your pipe?" she said naively. "That's where you used to keep it."

"My pipe doesn't like me any more," he rejoined quietly.

"Are you happy, Nat?" she asked, scrutinizing his face with childlike,
searching eyes.

"I was never a very solemn codger, was I?" he returned.

"But are you happier? Does the world look different? Of course it does,
with your mother well."

"Oh yes," he answered in a changed tone, tossing his head back, and
making a gesture as of throwing away something. "There was nothing in it
before, nothing in it."

"Yes, yes, I know," she returned comprehendingly.

Jewel had watched them, and now, as they paused, her voice broke the
silence in which the two friends looked into each other's faces.

"Cousin Eloise is going to church with me on Sunday," she announced.

"Oh, certainly." Bonnell smiled. "Wednesday evening meetings and all
now, Eloise. Haven't you attended yet?"

"No, I've only just learned. I've only just seen. I'm only beginning to
see, Nat. Your mother was healed. Oh, it is _true_, isn't it! It's so
wonderful to find that you, _you_, know more about it than I do, when I
supposed you would scorn it. I can't help expecting to wake up."

"That is just what you will do," returned Bonnell. "You will waken--to a
thousand things. So your mother objects."

"Poor little mother," returned Eloise, looking down with sudden sadness.

"My mother wants you and yours to make us a long visit at View Point
this summer."

The girl's lovely eyes raised hopefully. "The best thing that could
happen," she exclaimed.

"I think so," responded her companion.

When Mr. Evringham returned from golf that afternoon, only his
daughter-in-law was in sight. She inclined her head toward him with the
air of a Lady Macbeth.

"Have you seen anything of the girls?" she asked as he approached her.

"Nothing. Where are they?"

She slowly shrugged her shoulders. "I'm the last one to ask. They
wouldn't think of telling me," she returned.

"What's up