n in it," remarked Miss
Mehitable, piously taking credit to herself, "and now that it's
settled, I want to speak of Araminta."

"She's getting well all right, isn't she?" queried Thorpe, anxiously.
He had a tender place in his heart for the child.

"That's what I don't know, not bein' allowed to speak to her or touch
her. What I do know is that her immortal soul is in peril, now that
she's taken away from my influence. I want you to get a permit from
that black-mailing play-doctor that's curing her, or pretending to, and
go up and see her. I guess her pastor has a right to see her, even if
her poor old aunt ain't. I want you to find out when she'll be able to
be moved, and talk to her about her soul, dwellin' particularly on
hell."

Thorpe bowed again. "I will be very glad to do anything I can for
Araminta."

Shortly afterward, he made an errand to Doctor Dexter's and saw Ralph,
who readily gave him permission to visit his entire clientele.

"I've got another patient," laughed the boy. "My practice is
increasing at the rate of one case a month. If I weren't too
high-minded to dump a batch of germs into the water supply, I'd have a
lot more."

"How is Araminta?" asked Thorpe, passing by Ralph's frivolity.

"She's all right," he answered, his sunny face clouding. "She can go
home almost any time now. I hate to send her back into her cage--bless
her little heart."

It was late afternoon when Thorpe started up the hill, to observe and
report upon the state of Araminta's soul. He had struggled vainly with
his own problem, and had at last decided to read a fiery sermon by one
of the early evangelists, from a volume which he happened to have. The
sermon was lurid with flame, and he thought it would satisfy his
congregation. He would preface it with the statement that it was not
his, but he hoped they would regard it as a privilege to hear the views
of a man who was, without doubt, wiser and better than he.

Miss Evelina came to the door when he rapped, and at the sight of her
veiled face, a flood of pity overwhelmed him. He introduced himself
and asked whether he might see Araminta.

When he was ushered into the invalid's room, he found her propped up by
pillows, and her hair was rioting in waves about her flushed face. A
small maltese kitten, curled into a fluffy ball, slept on the snowy
counterpane beside her. Araminta had been reading the "story book"
which Doctor Ralph had brought her.

"Littl