"It is a mystery, I confess; but what makes you think that Jesus intended that His way of healing should be continued after His ascension?" inquired her uncle, who was deeply interested in the child's reasoning.
"Why, you see, just before He went away He had a talk with His disciples and gave them some last commands. He told them to go everywhere and preach to everybody—to 'heal the sick, raise the dead, and cast out sin or devils.' Now, Uncle Phil, that command is all one—the first part of it says 'heal the sick, raise the dead,' then comes the rest of it—'cast out sin;' and I don't see what right people have to pick it to pieces and say He didn't mean them to obey any but the last part of it."
"I see," nodded the young man, as she paused to impress her thought upon him.
"Well, then He told them that everybody who believed what He preached would be able to do the same things. Don't you remember He said—'Teach them to observe'—and observe means to practice— 'all things whatsoever I have commanded you.' Those were His very words. Now don't you think that meant to heal in His way instead of using drugs and all sorts of queer things that the Bible doesn't say anything about?" and Dorothy bent an eager, inquiring look upon her uncle.
"Where do you find all that?" questioned Phillip Stanley, and thus evading a direct reply.
But what she had said had set him thinking of arguments along the same line which Mrs. Minturn had used, during some of their discussions on board the Ivernia.
Dorothy shot a roguish glance up at him.
"I guess you don't know your Bible very well, do you, Uncle Phillip?" she said, laughing. "But when you go home please read the last six verses of the last chapter of Mark, and then the last two verses of the last chapter of Matthew, and see for yourself if what Jesus said about healing the sick isn't just as strong as what He said about preaching to sinners."
"All right, I will; but, by Jove, Dorrie! what a profound little theologian you are getting to be!" laughingly returned the man as, with a caressing hand, he smoothed back the golden hair from her forehead. "What makes you bother your brain with such perplexing questions?"
"I suppose one reason is because I've been sick so long and nobody does me any real good. Oh! I shouldn't have said that to you, when you try so hard," Dorrie interposed, flushing. "But I like to talk about such things, and you are very good to talk with me. Papa used to; but, lately, he doesn't seem to like to. You ought to hear Miss Minturn, though."