Sophie set her lips. "I have no time to be ill!" The doctor looked at her with deliberate sternness. "You will have all your life to be ill, if you do not take care now! I will do what I can to help you; we will arrange the times most convenient to you. You might come to me at first direct from school on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Later on the system will accustom itself, and you will probably feel no bad effects. I should like to undertake your case myself. My charge to you will be a quarter of my ordinary fee." "Thank you very much," stammered Sophie, "but--" Claire jumped up, and hastily interposed. "Thank you so very much! We are most grateful, but it's--it's been rather a shock, and we have not had time to think. Will you allow us to write and tell you our decision?" "Certainly. Certainly. But be quick about it. I am anxious to help, but every week's delay will make the case more difficult. Try to arrange for Wednesday next." As he spoke he led the way towards the door. He had been all that was kind and considerate, but there were other patients waiting; all day long a procession of sufferers were filing into that room. He had no more time to give to Sophie Blake. The two girls went out into the street, got into a taxi and were driven swiftly away. Neither spoke. They drew up before the door of Sophie's lodgings, entered the cosy sitting-room and sat down by the fire. "Well!" Sophie's face was flushed, her eyes were dry and feverishly bright. "I hope you are satisfied, my dear. I've been to a specialist to please you, and a most depressing entertainment it has been. Arthritis! That's the thing people have who go about in Bath chairs, and have horrible twisted fingers. It was supposed to be incurable, but now they have `an occasional cure,' so I must hope for the best! I do think doctors are the stupidest things! They have no tact. He could tell me that in one breath, and in the other that it was most important that I should have hope. Well! I _have_ hope. I _have_ faith, but it's not because of his stupid injections. I believe in God, and God knows that I need my health, and that other people need it too. My little sister! What would happen to her if I crocked now? I don't believe He will _let_ me grow worse!" "That's all right, Sophie dear, but oughtn't you to use the means? I don't call it trusting in the right sense if you set yourself against the help that comes along. God doesn't work miracles as He did in the old way; the world has progressed since those old times, and now He works through men. It is a miracle just the same, though it shows itself in a more natural fashion. Don't you call it a miracle that a busy doctor should offer to treat you himself, at the hours most convenient to you, and to do it at a quarter of his usual fees?"