A beautiful color flushed up in Miss Morison's dark cheek; and Wynne realized how unconventional he had been in replying to a question which had not been spoken. "Is it a Catholic order?" she asked, with an evident effort not to look confused. "It is not Roman," he responded. "We believe that it is catholic." "Oh," said she vaguely; and the conversation lapsed. They walked a moment in silence, and then Maurice made another effort. "Has Mrs. Frostwinch been ill?" he asked. "Mrs. Staggchase spoke of her as a miracle." "Ill!" echoed Miss Morison; "she has been wholly given up by the physicians. She has some horrible internal trouble; and a consultation of the best doctors in town decided that she could not live a week. That was two months ago." "But I don't understand," he said in surprise. "What happened?" "A miracle," the other replied smiling. "You believe in miracles, of course." "But what sort of a miracle?" "Faith-cure." "Faith-cure!" repeated he in astonishment. "Do you mean that Mrs. Frostwinch has been raised from a death-bed by that sort of jugglery?" His companion shrugged her shoulders. "I don't think it would raise you in her estimation if she heard you. The facts are as I tell you. She dismissed her doctors when they said they could do nothing for her, and took into her house a mind-cure woman, a Mrs. Crapps. Some power has put her on her feet. Wouldn't you do the same thing in her place?" Wynne looked bewildered at Mrs. Frostwinch walking before him in a shimmer of Boston respectability. He had an uneasy feeling that he was passing from one pitfall to another. He was keenly conscious of the richness of the voice of the girl by his side, so that he felt that it was not easy for him to disagree with anything which she said. He let her remark pass without reply. "For my part," she went on frankly, "I don't in the least believe in the thing as a matter of theory; but practically I have a superstition about it, because I've seen Cousin Anna. She was helpless, in agony, dying; and now she is as well as I am. If I were ill"-- She broke off with a pretty little gesture as they came within hearing of the others, who had halted at Mrs. Frostwinch's gate. Wynne said good-by absently, and went on his way down the hill like a man in a dream. "Well," Mrs. Staggchase said, "you have seen one of Boston's ethical debauches; what do you think of it?" "It was confusing," he returned. "I couldn't make out what it was for." "For? To amuse us. We are the children of the Puritans, you know, and have inherited a twist toward the ethical and the supernatural so strong that we have to have these things served up even in our amusements." "Then I think that it is wicked," Maurice said.