"That letter," he said, "is from the Vicar of B-- asking me to give in his Parish Room the lecture which I gave at B--." "Oh!" There was an accent of pain in Mrs. Burton’s voice. "You are not going to?" "Why do you object? The lecture was well received, you remember." "Yes, but even at the time when the people laughed and applauded, it seemed to hurt me. I couldn’t help thinking if these people, who call themselves Christian Scientists, believe so absolutely in the Christ healing, it was what the early Christians believed, and practised, and they were persecuted. When Christ spoke to Saul of Tarsus, he did not say, ’Why persecutest thou my followers?’ He said ’Why persecutest thou _me_?’ "So I felt that night that the laughter and ridicule of all in the room were as stones thrown not at people, but at the Christ. Don’t tell me, dear, that you are going to give that lecture again." "I am not. That boy’s radiant face would come between me and any audience I might think to address. I have commenced a letter to the Vicar, telling him I feel I cannot lecture on the subject again." "And I may take Eloise to Willmar Court?" "You may. Should she regain the use of her legs, as a result of the visit, I will espouse the Cause I once derided. After witnessing Carol’s marvellous recovery, it does not seem impossible." CHAPTER XVIII.--HAPPY THOUGHTS. After Mrs. Burton left Carol, Edith came and had tea with him, and after tea all his cousins were allowed to visit him for a little time. They could not understand how the sadness and gloom in the house had been dispelled. It was like the sun shining through clouds on a rainy day. He was so bright and happy, just their own dear Carol again. There was one subject of which he never spoke to his cousins; so they could not know why, the day before, the house was hushed, and he could not be seen because he was so ill, and to-day there seemed nothing at all the matter with him. When Mrs. Mandeville went the round of the children’s rooms after dinner, she found Carol waiting for her in the old way, just as if there had been no break, no agony of sorrow and suspense. "I hoped to find you asleep, darling," she said. "Has it been too much excitement having so many in your room?" "Oh, no, Auntie. I loved to see them all again. I have had such happy thoughts. Isn’t it nice to be kept awake by happy thoughts? Happy thoughts are good thoughts, and good thoughts come from God. Shall I tell you, Auntie, dear, what I have been thinking about?" "Wouldn’t it be better to tell me in the morning, dearie? It is rather late for a little boy who was an invalid only yesterday to be kept awake even by happy thoughts." "I would rather tell you to-night, Auntie. You do not quite understand, do you, that when error is cast out, it is done with, and we do not need to remember anything about it." "Then tell me, love, what you have been thinking about." "I began first of all, Auntie, thinking about Peter."