"I do not recognize Christian Science, so-called, as a religion," he retorted, with a sharpness in marked contrast to Katherine's sweetness. "In my opinion, it is simply a device and snare of Satan himself to deceive the very elect; and Miss Minturn"—this with frowning emphasis—"I will not, for a moment, tolerate the promulgation of its fallacious teachings in this school. I trust I make myself understood."
Katherine had not once removed her clear, brown eyes from his countenance during this speech, but there was not the slightest manifestation of resentment on her own—only an expression of tender regret, as if she were sorry for him, because of the sense of discord that seemed to hold possession of him.
"You mean that I am not to talk it here?" she said.
"Exactly; nor flaunt it in any way."
"I will not, sir," with gentle gravity; then a little smile curving her red lips, she added: "Christian Science, Prof. Seabrook, is a religion of Love, and I will simply try to live it."
The principal of Hilton flushed to his brows before this unassuming girl, a circumstance unprecedented in the annals of the institution.
Her look, her tone, the softly spoken words—all radiated love, and his arrogant spirit felt the gentle rebuke.
"Have you that book, 'Science and Health,' with you?" he curtly demanded.
Katherine's heart leaped within her. Did he mean to deprive her of her daily bread?
"Yes, sir," with unfaltering glance and voice.