"Same principle, recognizing the omnipresence of all things good, and acknowledging the gift as already given," interrupted Mr. Hayden, shutting his book and rising to put it away.

"How would you construe the pa.s.sage where it says, 'with prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to G.o.d?'" asked Kate.

"Oh, but you have not quoted it all: 'With prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving let your requests be made known,'" replied Mr. Hayden, smiling. "It means, continue to ask, and expect to receive and give thanks, not only by word, but by proper use of what you already have.

'If ye continue in my word,' was the condition, so it must be that we continue to ask and give thanks, even if our pet.i.tion is not visibly answered at once."

Mr. Hayden had some advantage in his study over the girls, for these things had been more or less considered by himself and Mrs. Hayden ever since her recovery, and it was no wonder he could explain so readily.

"After all, how would you apply this way of praying to giving treatments?" asked Grace. "I am anxious for the practical application."

"Why, it is all practical, as far as the individual is concerned, but the application to others we have yet to learn, though I imagine it is the same. It is simply being negative to false conditions, thus putting them off, and affirmative to true conditions, absorbing them as the flower does the light and heat."

"Well, it is a beautiful idea of prayer at any rate," remarked Grace.

They soon went home, still discussing and deeply pondering the subject.

"Grace, what do you suppose I did to-day?" cried Kate, breathlessly, as she rushed in the next evening.

"Can't imagine, unless you cured little Tim, the newsboy," laughed Grace, making her guess extravagant enough.

"No, but really, I treated Fannie for a dreadful headache. Of course I said nothing to her, but she was stumbling so over her music, I asked her what was the matter, and when she told me I treated her. In just a few moments she brightened up and said she felt better, and before we got through it was all gone. Wasn't that delightful?"

"Very, and I am so glad. How did you do it?"

"Well, I can hardly tell, but the talk we had yesterday with Mr. Hayden gave me a clearer idea than I had before, and I just denied the headache and acknowledged the truth that she was spiritually well; then waited a few moments and gave thanks that it was so."

"How glad we ought to be for the privilege of reading Mrs. Hayden's letters," said Grace, thoughtfully, as she smoothed her hair and washed her hands.

"Yes, and what a goose I was about it," Kate replied. "I would scarcely take the chance when it was offered, and if it had been any one but Mrs.

Hayden, I do believe I should have refused point blank."

"We know so little what is right when we judge in the old way," said Grace. "Now, if I actually hadn't seen that woman cured, and known positively how she was before, nothing would have induced me to spend my time on this, although, from the first, I rather liked the theory."

"Where is my gingham ap.r.o.n?" called Kate, looking in the dark closet where she had hung it.

"Kate, I'm thoroughly reformed, as you will know when I tell you I am perfectly willing to perform the culinary duties to-night, and I will be the cook while you discourse some music for my edification," laughed Grace, as she emerged from the studio with her sleeves rolled back, and the lost ap.r.o.n pinned around her.

"What!" cried Kate, holding up both hands with a mock-tragic air. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course, and I will show you what a talent I have for poaching eggs and making toast."

The girls were in the habit of dividing their work according to their personal tastes. Kate liked to prepare dainty meals and wash dishes, while Grace preferred to sweep and dust, and arrange things to suit her artistic eye. Each disliked the other's part of the work, so they were well content to have it so divided.

"Go on, now," ordered Grace, "and play for me. I want some music; but, first of all, tell me where the eggs are, and how long should they boil?"

"The eggs are in the tin pail on the third shelf in the closet. They should boil till they are a pretty blue white."

"Very well, now I can dispense with your company."

Kate laughed merrily, and sitting down to the piano, played till Grace called her out to dine.

"It seems rather nice to come home and play lady," she remarked, as she went out where Grace was.

"Well, really, Kate, I was thinking this afternoon that there is not so much difference in the kinds of work as there is in the thoughts you have when you work, and I resolved, that to refrain from certain duties because one does not like them is selfish, and makes a person one-sided.

Then I could see no reason why I should dislike to cook, and concluded to try it."

"I believe you are right about the one-sidedness," said Kate, soberly.

"I do want to grow into a rounded character, and am just realizing the necessity of doing things that lie nearest us, whether it is washing dishes, painting or scrubbing. If I get so I can think right about things I'm sure I shall like them."

"That is true. I have already noticed a vast difference in my patience in giving lessons. You know some days I would be so nervous and get so exasperated with Fannie Thornton and Jenny Miles, I didn't know what to do with myself, but the last few days I have not minded them at all, in fact I got along better with Fannie than ever before, and it was just because I kept from thinking she was contrary and stupid."

"Well, that is a practical application of your lesson. I think we ought to apply it to everything we do," replied Grace.

"One of the chief beauties of this Christianity is that it goes into every thought and action," said Kate, thoughtfully, adjusting her hair.

"Oh!" she added a moment later, "I forgot to give you the letter that came to-day." She pulled it out of her pocket all crumpled and gave it to Grace, who glanced at her name on the envelope and then grew white about the mouth as she hastily put it into her pocket, remarking in an ordinary tone, "It will keep a little longer."

Little was said by either for some time. Grace was preoccupied and Kate furtively watched her face, for this was an unaccountable procedure, although occasionally Grace had been affected the same way before.

She insisted on washing the dishes, and was glad indeed that she had it to do, while Kate poured her thoughts into music, feeling that she could best show sympathy for her friend by this, to her, most expressive way.

As for Grace, she waited till she had quite finished her work and then sat down to read the letter. She well knew it was from Leon Carrington, a suitor, whom she had rejected on the plea that she wished to be wedded solely to her art. Pride had forbidden her being frank enough to tell him the real reason, caused by an impeachment made against his character, by one whom she implicitly trusted as a friend. Her bitter resolve was the result, and while it was true she loved and desired to spend her life in pursuing her art, she had compelled herself to think she loved it best, and so told him it was first choice.

Hers was a proud, deep nature, and rather than admit that she had loved or could love one whom she considered unworthy, she cut the matter short by a decided rejection. It had cost her a mighty effort to come to this decision, and when she came out of the trial, she had lost her faith in all men.

On all other points but this, Grace was sound and sweet in her general disposition, but any talk on marriage she would never tolerate even with Kate.

This was the third letter he had written in the two years since he went away, and as in the preceding, he fervently begged her to reconsider.

CHAPTER XXV.

"Life hath its Tabor heights, Its lofty mounts of heavenly recognition, Whose unveiled glories flash to earth munition Of love, and truth, and clearer intuition: Hail! mount of all delights!"

--_I. C. Gilbert._

"MARLOW, September ----.

"Good morning, dear ones all! I must tell you a little of yesterday before I go to the lesson to-day. We were not in cla.s.s, and I staid in my room all day trying to solve the many questions that present themselves to us all, and to claim a little more understanding. Many points became very much clearer after my long meditation in the silence.

In the evening I ran down to see Mrs. Dawn, who is several blocks away.

We were so interested, so completely absorbed in telling our thoughts and experiences, that it was after eleven o'clock when I arose to go, and then she accompanied me home, only intending to come part way, but as we pa.s.sed a little low house about half way home, the door suddenly opened and a little girl of ten or twelve years ran out sobbing, 'The baby is dying! the baby is dying!'