“Eloise has mounted the new hobby, and is riding for dear life away from common sense, away from everything that promised such happiness.”
“Do you mean Christian Science?”
“Of course I do.”
“It's a strange thing, Madge. Do you know, it captures people with good heads.” Mr. Evringham seated himself near his daughter's chair. “I came out on the train with my friend Reeves. He was talking about young Bonnell, of whom you spoke last night. Said his mother was cured when the doctors couldn't do anything. You know her, eh?”
“As well as if she were my own flesh and blood.”
“Is it a fact, what they say?”
“She was considered incurable. I know nothing about the rest of it. Nat was telling me yesterday. Now he is probably infatuated also, and, sooner or later, Eloise is sure to meet him.”
“H'm, h'm. An old flame, you said,” remarked Mr. Evringham. “Indeed! In—deed! I trust for your sake, Madge, that his is not objectionable to you.”
“He is,” snapped Mrs. Evringham. “A poor fellow, with his way to make in the world. He's been out of college a couple of years and hasn't done anything worth speaking of yet.”
“Reeves is going to take him into the business,” returned Mr. Evringham. “I don't know why or wherefore, but the mere fact is decidedly promising.”