"I may answer your question if you ask it merely as a friend of the patient, but not as recognizing your standing as a practitioner," he said.
Phillida answered with a quick flush of pain and surprise, "I am not a practitioner, Dr. Beswick. You are under some mistake. I know nothing about medicine."
"I didn't suppose you did," said the doctor with a smile. "But are you not what they call a Christian Scientist?"
"I? I hate what they call Christian Science. It seems to me a lot of nonsense that nobody can comprehend. I suppose it's an honest delusion on the part of some people and a mixture of mistake and imposture on the part of others."
"You have made a pretty good diagnosis, if you are not a physician," said Dr. Beswick, laughing, partly at Phillida's characterization of Christian Science and partly at his own reply, which seemed to him a remark that skillfully combined wit with a dash of polite flattery. "But, Miss Callender,—I beg your pardon for saying it,—people call you a faith-doctor."
"Yes; I know," said Phillida, compressing her lips.
"Did you not treat this Schulenberg girl as a faith-healer?"
"I prayed for her as a friend," said Phillida, "and encouraged her to believe that she might be healed if she could exercise faith. She did get much better."
"I know, I know," said the doctor in an offhand way; "a well-known result of strong belief in cases of nerve disease. But, pardon me, you have had other cases that I have heard of. Now don't you think that the practice of faith-healing for—for—compensation makes you a practitioner?"
"For compensation?" said Phillida, with a slight gesture of impatience. "Who told you that I took money?"