azed, you may say; and just then in came Miss
Keith. She's a little slim thing, but _such_ eyes! They seem to look you
through and through! I'd have known she was a healer even if Mrs. Conner
hadn't told me the night before when she was over in our house. She
stood there, just simply looking at Mrs. Conner, not saying a word for a
minnit. Then she says in the _kindest_ voice--I can't tell you how soft
and kind her voice was!--she says, 'Have you the impression of great
pain, Mrs. Conner?' And Mrs. Conner--you know how--well abruptly--she
speaks, she said: '_Impression_ of pain? I only wish you had something
jabbing you like a hot iron, I guess you'd be _impressed_. Ain't
anybody going to take off my stocking? It's swelling every minnit!' Miss
Keith only looked at her, and lifted her hand for me and the girl to
keep still. I expect she was giving her silent treatment, for in a
moment or two she said: 'Well?' in such an inspiring, cheerful tone; and
Mrs. Conner said, 'Why, it's better!' surprised as could be; and I had
to clap my hands for joy. But Miss Keith told us both to go out for a
while and so we did. We waited half an hour by the clock, and that girl
was the most restless being you ever saw. I had all I could to keep her
quiet. Then the door opened--" Miss Bigelow made a wave of her plump
hands, indicating the opening of a door, and paused with hands and
voice. Mrs. Darter had ceased to groan.

"What happened?" said Emmy.

Miss Bigelow's hands met in a clap. "_Mrs. Conner came walking out with
Miss Keith, that's what happened!_" said she, in a low, solemn voice.

"On her sprained ankle?" cried Mrs. Darter.

"On her sprained ankle, her that couldn't move it without nearly
fainting for the pain. She said it hardly pained her at all; and she's
going right on with her preserving this minute. I said to sister it was
simply mirac'lus. I can't find a better word."

"Maybe her ankle was not sprained so badly as she thought," Emmy
suggested.

"Her face was white as a sheet," said Miss Bigelow; "and we all know
Mrs. Conner isn't one to cry before she's hurt, or make a fuss; and we
all know her prejudices about mental healing. She says she don't believe
a _bit_ more in it than she did, 'but,' says she, 'that girl's a wonder!
I wish,' says she, 'Mrs. Darter could have her.' I never lisped, but I
made up my mind to go and tell you right straight."

"She couldn't do mother any good," said Emmy, wearily. At which Mrs.
Da