“What passage is that?” he asked.
“Why, this about if you have faith you can remove mountains.”
“If it says so in the Bible it is so, Philip,” said Mrs. Carey gently, taking up the plate-basket.
Philip looked at his uncle for an answer.
“It’s a matter of faith.”
“D’you mean to say that if you really believed you could move mountains you could?”
“By the grace of God,” said the Vicar.
“Now, say good-night to your uncle, Philip,” said Aunt Louisa. “You’re not wanting to move a mountain tonight, are you?”
Philip allowed himself to be kissed on the forehead by his uncle and preceded Mrs. Carey upstairs. He had got the information he wanted. His little room was icy, and he shivered when he put on his nightshirt. But he always felt that his prayers were more pleasing to God when he said them under conditions of discomfort. The coldness of his hands and feet were an offering to the Almighty. And tonight he sank on his knees; buried his face in his hands, and prayed to God with all his might that He would make his club-foot whole. It was a very small thing beside the moving of mountains. He knew that God could do it if He wished, and his own faith was complete. Next morning, finishing his prayers with the same request, he fixed a date for the miracle.
“Oh, God, in Thy loving mercy and goodness, if it be Thy will, please make my foot all right on the night before I go back to school.”