“Yes,” answered Gretel, delighted at finding an opening for conversation; “we came on the Norfolk steamer from New York; it was lovely.”
“We came by the train,” announced Geraldine; “I hate trains, and so does Jerry; they’re so hot and stuffy. We wanted to come by the boat, and Father was willing, but Mother wasn’t. Were you seasick?”
“No, not a bit. My brother and I sat on deck, and there was music, and we had such a good dinner. Higgins and I both slept so soundly that my brother had to wake us when it was time to get up in the morning. I was never on a steamer before, but I loved it.”
“Of course you did,” said Geraldine, with conviction; “we should have loved it, too. We’re going on a boat sometime, aren’t we, Jerry?”
“Yep,” responded Jerry, shortly. It was the first time he had spoken, and his voice was so very hoarse that Gretel looked at him in astonishment.
“Has your brother a bad cold?” she inquired sympathetically of Geraldine.
“It’s his tonsils,” Geraldine explained. “Father says they ought to be cut, but Mother’s using Mind Cure on him, and she thinks they’ll get well by themselves.”
“What’s Mind Cure?”
“Oh, don’t you know? It’s the thing people believe in when they don’t take medicine or have doctors. We had a doctor when we had scarlet fever, because Father said we must, but Mother thought it was all nonsense about the fumigating. Before Mother got to be a Mind Cure we had to take castor oil, and rhubarb, and lots of horrid things, but we never do now. We like it much better this way. Does your mother bring you up by the Law of Love?”
“My mother died when I was a baby,” said Gretel, sadly, “and my father is dead too. My brother takes care of me now, and he is very kind, but I don’t think I know what the Law of Love is.”