“Then what makes you say it ain't a wonder?”
“Because it's a thing; anybody could do,” replied the doctor.
“Charm a smashed shoulder well?”
“No,” replied the doctor, “rotate a dislocated joint into place. When Sol Shreave caught his ax in the grapevine he twisted the ball on the big hone of his arm out of the socket of the shoulder, and when the School-teacher took hold of his arm and rotated it around in the right way it went back into place.”
The miller crossed her hands over her apron. She took hold of the palm of her left with the fingers of her right. She gave her head a little jerk. Her eyebrows contracted.
“I don't know about that,” she said.
She remained for a moment looking down at the mill porch, then she looked up.
“Doctor,” she said, “did you ever hear of anybody that was dead bein' brought back to life?”
“Yes,” said the doctor, “I have heard of it ever since I could remember.”
“Then it has happened?”