“Will that you won’t be sick, and you won’t be,” quoth a volunteer adviser.
“It’s my will itself that is sick,” replied a real sufferer.
I’M sure I should.”
Mrs. Cultus turned quickly, to find the speaker, a placid-looking person, sitting near, presumably a lady, yet who had evidently been eavesdropping. A person of matronly aspect, whose voice and expression suggested a desire to tell others something that might be of benefit to them. Not at all one whose appearance suggested mysticism in any degree; on the contrary rather ingenuous, consequently a surprise to all present when she launched at them the following dogmatic statements:
“The practice of healing, of course I mean metaphysical healing, is based upon certain ethical and religious principles, because we know that mind holds utter control over matter.”
Mrs. Cultus, at first taken aback, then much amused, replied promptly: “Mind over matter! well, I should hope so. But it strikes me mind often controls matter better than it controls itself—h’m!” and Mrs. Cultus gave a little cough, as if the very idea had produced “something-the-matter” in her own anatomy.
Miss Winchester whispered to Adele: “My dear, we have found another—metaphysical specimen this time. The ship is full of them.”
“No more cures for me,” retorted Adele. “That magnesium powder is not out of my head yet—I mean my hair.”
“Never mind that, dear. Your head will save your hair; beg pardon, I mean your heels.”
“Well,” thought Adele, laughing, “even if this individual is another new-science-expert, she can’t possibly be of the loud, vociferous variety.” Adele judged by the placid manner and quiet voice, insinuating even when making such positive and surprising assertions. She had yet to learn how extremes sometimes meet in the same personality. The Doctor could have told her that the woman’s hands showed a most ardent temperament, and that in some types suppressed zeal could assume the appearance of placidity personified.
Mrs. Thorn regarded the matronly lady with especial interest, because new mental impressions of any kind, from any source, might at any time be of use to her. Her smile was bland, mild, courtesy itself, with just a humorous tinge for business with it, as she leaned forward to catch every word. Some new point in the game might be played at any moment. This when the placid matron remarked: “No medicines are now needed, no such disturbances as we have had on board. The true method by which mind may overcome all disease in suffering humanity we have now learned.”