"'Appropriating?'"

"Yes, knowing that all good belongs by right to us, as God's dear children; and acting as if we knew it, by gratefully accepting it," Katherine explained. Then observing the puzzled look on her teacher's face, she went on:

"Let me illustrate. You asked for your dinner. I have brought it and set it before you. All you have to do is to reach out and partake of it to satisfy your hunger. How inconsistent it would be if you should ignore these facts and keep on saying, 'Katherine, I want my dinner; please, oh, please give me some food, for I am starving.'"

"How ridiculous that sounds!" said Miss Reynolds, laughing. "I begin to comprehend what you mean and that the old way of praying is only a halfway prayer, while begging and supplicating God to keep His promises impugns His righteousness."

"Exactly," Katherine assented, then added: "Prayer is really twofold--asking and taking, praying and doing; knowing that God's promises mean what they say, and confidently expecting their fulfillment."

"Do you always have this confidence when you have difficulties to meet, Kathie? I should think it would not always be easy to 'know,'" thoughtfully observed Miss Reynolds.

"No, it is not always easy to have perfect trust; in that case every demonstration, or answer to prayer, would be instantaneous. One needs to be patient and persistent, the same as one needs to go over a difficult mathematical problem many times before getting a correct answer, but never doubting that it will follow right effort," Katherine explained. "Of course, there is a great deal more that might be said about the subject," she added, "and if you will read the chapter on 'Prayer' in our text-book you will get a far better idea of it than I have given you."

"I will read it this afternoon if you are not going to use your book," Miss Reynolds replied.

"I have another copy, and you may keep this one for a while," and Katherine flushed with pleasure at the woman's manifest interest in her beloved Science.

"Thank you; and now"--glancing archly at the almost empty dishes before her--"don't you think I have done ample justice to the generous repast you brought me? I only hope it won't bring on the fever again."

"Oh, faithless and perverse generation!" quoted Katherine, with smiling reproof. "It will not," she added, positively; "remember your 'God-given dominion.'"

"I will try, dear; I am very grateful to you, Kathie, and to God, for the wonderful transformation of the last few hours," said Miss Reynolds, with starting tears. "If it were not for this feeling of weakness I believe I could dress and go down to supper to-night."

At that instant there came a tap on the door, and on going to answer it Katherine found Mrs. Seabrook and Miss Williams, another teacher, without.

Both ladies exclaimed in astonishment upon seeing the supposed invalid up and dressed, while Mrs. Seabrook viewed with grave disapproval the tray before her, with its remnants of a hearty dinner.

"My dear! are you crazy that you dare eat meat, potatoes and vegetables--yes, and pie!--with such a fever?" she cried, aghast.

"I have no fever," said Miss Reynolds, giving her a cool, normal hand. "I am very much better, and I was hungry, so asked Miss Minturn to bring me something nice to eat."

"All the same, you are very injudicious," was the severe rejoinder. But the transgressor only smiled serenely and began to talk of other things, while Katherine removed the offensive tray, taking it below, after which she sought her own room.

CHAPTER X.

MRS. SEABROOK'S PROBLEM.

Katherine spent a while chatting with her roommate, after which she made some change in her dress, then sought Mrs. Seabrook's apartments to make her promised visit to Dorothy.

The child was reclining on a couch and propped up by numerous pillows. She looked pale and worn from recent suffering, although, just then, she was comparatively comfortable.

Prof. Seabrook was sitting beside her, reading from an entertaining book, to pass the time during his wife's absence on her round of visits to the sick.

Katherine flushed slightly as she entered the room, for, try as she would, she had not yet quite overcome a sense of reserve whenever she met her principal. His manner to her was always marked by the most punctilious politeness; but it was such frigid courtesy and so entirely at variance with his affability during their first interview, that she also seemed to freeze when in his presence.

The moment the door opened Dorothy uttered a cry of joy, extending eager hands to her, and, after saluting Prof. Seabrook, Katherine went to her side, a cheery smile upon her lips as she greeted her.

"I'm so glad, Miss Minturn! Mamma said you were coming, and I've been watching the door ever since dinner. Can you stay a long time?" exclaimed the girl, in glad tones.

"Perhaps I am interrupting something interesting," Katherine observed, as she glanced at the book in the professor's hands.

"Well, papa has been reading to me, and it was interesting," Dorothy truthfully admitted. "But he has an engagement pretty soon, and is only staying with me till mamma comes back, for Alice is out. Mamma has gone up to see Miss Reynolds. Do you know she is awful sick?"

"She is much better to-day. I came from her room only a little while ago," said Katherine, "and I can stay an hour, or more, with you if you like. I will go on with the reading, Prof. Seabrook, if it will relieve you," she added, courteously turning to him.

"Oh, I'd rather talk with you," Dorothy interposed. "Mamma can finish the story by and by. Now, papa, you can go and leave me with Miss Minturn."

Prof. Seabrook arose.

"It is very good of you, Miss Minturn," he said, addressing her with studied politeness. "I do feel anxious to get away to an important appointment. Well, Dorrie, what shall I bring you from the city?" he questioned, as he bent over the girl, his tones softening suddenly to yearning tenderness.

"Oh! papa, it's Saturday, you know," she said, with a wise look.

"Sure; I almost forgot, and the inevitable cream chocolates for Sunday will have to be forthcoming, I suppose," he laughingly rejoined. "Anything else?"

"No, I guess not; only tell Uncle Phil, if you see him, to be sure to come out to-morrow."

"Very well," then kissing her fondly, he bowed formally to Katherine and quietly left the room.

Ten minutes later Mrs. Seabrook returned, and Katherine persuaded her to go out for a walk, a privilege which the closely confined woman was glad to avail herself of, and Dorothy was soon absorbed in the description of a moonlight fete on the Grand Canal in Venice, and which Katherine had participated in during her recent tour abroad.

Meantime Mrs. Seabrook was walking briskly towards the highway, but with a very thoughtful expression on her refined face.

It was one of those soft, balmy days of May that almost delude one into the belief that it is June; that thrill the heart with tenderness for every living thing, and quicken responsive pulses with their unfolding beauty. She had been shut up the whole week with Dorrie, while, with Miss Reynolds alarmingly ill and several of the students threatened with as many different ailments, her time had been more than full, and her mind heavily burdened with care and anxiety. So it was with a sense of freedom and grateful appreciation that she pursued her way, breathing in the pure and refreshing air, basking in the genial sunshine and feasting her eyes upon the loveliness all around her; but thinking, thinking with a strange feeling of awe deep down in her heart.

She had just passed the entrance to the grounds of the seminary, when she saw her brother, Dr. Stanley, approaching from the opposite direction.

She hurried forward to greet him.

"I am more than glad to see you, Phillip," she said, as she slipped her hand, girl fashion, into his, as it hung by his side. "Come and walk with me. I want to talk to you."

"I am on my way to Dorrie," he replied. "I met William in a car, as I was returning to town from a visit to a patient, and he told me she had been very poorly to-day. So I took the next car back to see her."

"Yes, she had a very bad night, but has grown more comfortable within the last few hours. Miss Minturn offered to sit with her and let me out for a breath of air," his sister explained.

"I owe Miss Minturn my personal thanks. But perhaps I ought to go on and take a look at Dorrie," said the physician, thoughtfully.