My daughter looked at me no less sweetly because of my taunt, and responded: "In time we shall all be able to heal ourselves. It is simply a question of strength and degree. Some of us have more power than others at present, but as the world grows the number of those sufficient unto themselves will increase." "What makes you think so?" "I know it, father." "From Mrs. Titus?" "Mrs. Titus knows it too; but I know it not merely because she knows it, but because I can feel that it is so." "But, my dear child, surely you do not mean to tell me that if I were to have typhoid fever, I shouldn't have it?" "I know that you would think you had it." "Well, supposing I died, wouldn't I be dead?" Winona hesitated for an instant, but it was only in order to avoid committing herself to one heresy while seeking to avoid another. "You would be dead, though perhaps not as we now understand being dead. You would not have died of typhoid fever, but of the belief that you were suffering from typhoid fever induced by the hallucination of error." "I see," I answered, though to tell the truth I did not, and it was very evident to me that Winona thought so too, for her serene smile revealed just a tinge of amusement. Even a real philosopher would be apt to feel nettled were he to suspect that he was making himself ridiculous in the eyes of his most beautiful daughter. I said a little sternly: "I wish you would explain to me, in the first place, what you mean by saying that I might not be dead as we now understand being dead." Winona folded her hands. "I said that, father, because we Christian Scientists are not yet certain as to what is the precise nature of death. There are some who deem death also an hallucination, and the apparent annihilation of matter consequent upon it merely a reflex confirmation of the truth that there is no matter, only spirit; and it may well be that as the world grows in faith, death will disappear in that we shall cease to think we see matter. Mrs. Titus holds this view, but I am not yet sufficiently free from error to be sure that I believe it." "But you are sure you believe that I should not have typhoid fever?" "Perfectly." "But what if the doctors said I had?" "They would be mistaken, father." I stroked my chin in order to bridle my tongue. "How old are you, Winona?" I asked. "Just eighteen, father." "You have never studied medicine, I believe?" "No." "Nor had any special advantages or opportunities to investigate the nature of disease?" "Only through Mrs. Titus." "Precisely. And yet you are willing to call yourself wiser than the men who have devoted their lives to its study--the physicians of London, Paris, Berlin, and Vienna, to say nothing of those of New York and Boston." A faint flush overspread Winona's face. "The doctors have been mistaken many times before, father. You remember Harvey and the circulation of the blood. The doctors laughed at him at first."