"Of course you are," was the cheery response, with a happy heart- throb at the old familiar form of address.
"That was a right smart rumpus, though," Sadie added, in her
Southern phraseology.
"The less said about it the better," was the brief reply.
"Why?"
"Because it is nothing now, and you neither need nor wish to live it over."
"I reckon I don't. But, do you believe you cured me?"
"I know that I did not; but I also know that God healed you."
"But you did something."
"Yes—what I did was—well, you may call it prayer, if you like. But I think we must not talk about it because of Prof. Seabrook's command, which I am inclined to think I may have already broken in the letter if not in the spirit," said Katherine, gravely.
"Well—I don't—know. It all seems very queer to me!" Sadie observed, reflectively, as she slipped out of bed and began to dress. "I wouldn't have believed I could feel so well this morning though. I'm as fresh as a daisy, and my face isn't at all swollen. I can't understand it. I'm inclined to think that—after all, the ache just ached itself out and left of its own accord."