"I think she will," said Doris; "I hope she will. And there's one thing: after I'm gone (I shall have to run away from my reputation) you must own up about your ankle--and _me_ to Miss Darter and poor, trusting Miss Bigelow. She's such a good soul! Mrs. Darter--well, you will know when it's safe to tell Mrs. Darter." "Humph!" said Conner, "Emmy'll be grateful! I guess we'll go slow on the Widow Darter; and as to Ann Bigelow--" "I do feel sneaky about her," sighed Doris. "It's touching, her faith. She's a simple-hearted creature. I hate to uproot her." "Oh, you needn't be afraid," said Conner, grinning; "she won't be uprooted. She will say it's jest as much mental healing as if you done it in earnest. And ain't Mrs. Darter healed? she'll say." "Well," Doris mused aloud, "I dare say she's right. It certainly was a mental healing, and how far the power of the mind to heal goes none of us can say. Perhaps, after all, she is right, and it _is_ a bit of a miracle, although it was only a miracle play!"