fainting for the pain. She said it hardly pained her at all; and she's
going right on with her preserving this minute. I said to sister it was
simply mirac'lus. I can't find a better word."
"Maybe her ankle was not sprained so badly as she thought," Emmy
suggested.
"Her face was white as a sheet," said Miss Bigelow; "and we all know
Mrs. Conner isn't one to cry before she's hurt, or make a fuss; and we
all know her prejudices about mental healing. She says she don't believe
a _bit_ more in it than she did, 'but,' says she, 'that girl's a wonder!
I wish,' says she, 'Mrs. Darter could have her.' I never lisped, but I
made up my mind to go and tell you right straight."
"She couldn't do mother any good," said Emmy, wearily. At which Mrs.
Darter spoke for herself in a good, round voice of contradiction. "_Why_
couldn't she? How much does she charge, Miss Ann?"
"_Not one cent!_" replied Ann, with a thrill of triumph; "_if_ she'll
come, she'll come free; but I don't know whether she will come."
"Emmy, you go and ask Mrs. Conner to ask her to come; ask Mrs. Conner to
come too," said Mrs. Darter, resuming her feeble voice. "I want to see
if that ankle _is_ cured. You'll stay with me, Miss Ann?"
So, almost too quickly for her to realize the position, Emmy found
herself on her way to the Conners'. A fragrant odor wafted Mrs. Conner's
occupation through the open kitchen door before Emmy crossed the
threshold to behold her skimming a great kettle of plum jam. "Landy,
land! it's Emmy Darter already!" she cried, with a jolly laugh. "I
thought I could git that plum jam ready to take off before you'd come. I
knew it wouldn't be long when I saw Miss Ann Bigelow trotting across
lots. Your ma's sent for Miss Keith, I guess. Well, it's lucky Conner
has the hosses hitched in the wagon, and he can take us right over. I'll
call Hedwig to take off the jam, and Miss Keith--"
"But, Mrs. Conner, please tell me about yourself," urged Emmy. "_Did_
she cure you?"
Mrs. Conner's left eyelid twitched in company with the left corner of
her shapely mouth. "You ask me no questions, Emmy, and I'll tell you no
lies; but you can make up your mind Miss Keith can cure your ma--if
she's _let_!" These orphic sentences were dropped with a slow and
ponderous nod of the head, and ceased at the entrance of Miss Keith. The
young lady looked very pretty in a crisp pink and white dimity frock
and a large white hat with pink roses. She had none of the airs of an
adept or a seer. There was nothing occult or intruding on the
imagination in her presence. She sat on the front seat beside Mr. Conner
and talked about cantaloupe melons. Mrs. Conner was amazingly silent; it
was plain, however, from no unkindly motives, since often she cast an
affectionate glance on Emmy, and, as the wagon stopped in front of the
Darter gate, she patted the girl's shoulder, saying: "It's all going to
come right, _I_ guess. Jest you mind us and keep still."
Emmy's bewilderment deepened, but she said, "Yes'm," in her docile way,
and followed Mrs. Conner and Miss Keith down the walk, leaving Mr.
Conner to chuckle over some unknown mirth of his own, in the wagon.
Mrs. Darter, so Miss Bigelow told them, had been dozing all the while
Emmy was gone. Her greeting to Miss Keith was a feeble moan. But on Miss
Keith's part there was an amazing transformation. She bent her brows
above eyes which shone out of them in a level, intent gaze. Emmy
recalled Miss Ann's description, and understood it with a thrill. For a
few seconds Miss Keith stood motionless, shedding that steady,
unblinking gaze at the drawn face on the pillow. Mrs. Darter appeared to
feel it through her eyelids; she winced, she ceased whimpering. Miss
Keith smiled gently. She spoke, and her voice was like silk. "You have
suffered very much!"
Mrs. Darter opened her eyes; she gazed up at the eyes above her; her
chin quivered and two tears slowly ran down her cheeks--the first tears
seen on her cheeks during all her lamentations. "Oh, I have," she
murmured, "and nobody believes it--not my oldest friend, not my own
children!"
"_I_ believe it," said the girl; "yet it is all a mistake." Without
turning her eyes, she made a little motion with her hands toward the
door, and instantly Miss Ann marshaled the others out of the room. Mrs.
Conner shut the door.
In spite of herself, Emmy began to feel her nerves twitch with the
excitement and mystery. "Oh, Mrs. Conner," she entreated that stanch
friend, "is it possible she _can_ cure mother?"
"Jest you keep quiet," said Mrs. Conner, "and set still. I'm going out
to the kitchen to heat this beef tea." For the first time, Emmy observed
that Mrs. Conner carried a glass jar insufficiently wrapped in
newspaper. Directly she was heard clattering among the saucepans. Miss
Ann stiffened into a rigid attitude, and her face assumed a rapt
expression. Emmy locked her fingers and sat still. At this moment she
was startled by a soft noise outside, and a young fellow pushed a
handsome, flushed face into the triangle between the window curtains and
beckoned with a look of entreaty. Emmy's heart jumped into her throat.
It was Albert. She didn't care whether he rode with Susan Baker or not;
it was Albert who loved her; she knew it. If she could only go out to
him! But Miss Ann shook her head and laid a mystic finger on her lips.
Emmy, too, laid a finger on her lips; but her finger trembled and her
eyes swam in tears. Albert stood passive and bewildered. The moments
dragged on. Really there were not so many of them; a scant half an hour
covered the flight of time; but to Emmy, uncertain whether her greatly
tried lover might not have to go back to an expected train at any one of
them, and to Albert, who did have a train on his mind and had ridden
swiftly up to his sweetheart's for the briefest of interviews, those
minutes seemed an hour. Yet Albert knew better, having his watch in
hand and waving it and pointing at it, the better to explain his hurry.
Once Emmy mustered courage in an access of desperation to rise to her
feet, but the look of horror on Miss Ann's features dropped her like a
club.
Albert's mind darted blindly from one conjecture of disaster to another.
At one minute he was ready to march in rashly before Miss Ann and demand
what was the matter; at another he was cold at the thought of blundering
in on a deathbed.
He gasped with relief when the door opened and Miss Keith came out,
smiling and calling: "Mrs. Conner! Mrs. Conner! hurry up that beef tea,
and make some strong coffee as soon as you can!"
Then he did venture to come into the room, essaying a general bow and
smile.
"I hope Aunty Darter is better!" he stammered. The children of the old
friends had always given them a brevet relationship. Mrs. Darter was
"Aunty Darter" to Albert, and Mrs. Glenn "Aunty Lida" to the Darter
girls.
"Mrs. Darter will be well to-morrow," said Miss Keith, quietly; "she is
going to take some coffee--"
"And some toast and plum jam," interrupted Mrs. Darter herself. "I know
Mrs. Conner has been making jam. The times I've hankered after jam these
last months! I'm going to eat everything I didn't dast to--"
"By degrees," said Miss Keith, "as the mental power grows stronger."
"Is that Albert?" said Mrs. Darter. "Albert, lift me up while I drink
that beef tea."
Albert and Emmy held her while Mrs. Conner fed her a cup of the tea.
They laughed hysterically, with tears in their eyes, as Mrs. Darter
sighed weakly. "Oh, but that's good!" while Mrs. Conner radiated
satisfaction and Miss Ann rocked to and fro, announcing that it was
"mirac'lus!" They did not comprehend what had happened; they could not
look into the future and a time when Mrs. Darter should throw herself
with energy into preparing for Emmy's marriage; they only dimly foresaw
her recovery and reconciliation with the common pleasures of life; but
it was enough for Emmy that her mother's black hour had passed, and for
Albert that he was close to Emmy, and that there was a vague omen of
happiness in the atmosphere.
Mrs. Darter took her tea. She went to sleep, as Miss Keith directed her;
and she partook with relish of coffee, toast, and jam that selfsame day,
so rapidly had her state improved by evening. It was after this last
meal, she being vastly strengthened by the food and drink, that she
received Albert's messages from his mother--rather, that she cut them
short.
"No, Albert, your ma shan't keep on feeling bad. She was right. It was
all in my mind. All disease is in the mind, I guess. But I wasn't
putting it on--"
"Oh, she _knows_; she didn't mean--"
"We didn't, either of us, mean all we said; the truth is, I felt so bad
and so hungry I couldn't see straight, anyway; and as to Dr. Abbie
Cruller, I guess your mother wasn't far out. She said I never had had a
well day since I knew that woman, and I do believe that's so; but I've
got a wonderful new doctor now; don't charge a cent; and you tell your
mother to come over and see me and stay to tea. My hand's out making
blueberry cake, but I'm going to try."
But this interview was hours after Doris Keith and the Conners had
driven away. Mrs. Conner gave her husband a graphic account of the
"miracle." "Ann Bigelow will have it's no less," says she.
"Thing pleased me," chuckles Conner, wrinkling his eyes out of sight in
his ironic enjoyment--"thing pleased me was the way she'd go on 'bout
Miss Keith's eyes piercing her right through, after Miss Keith had
practysed them eyes on you 'n' me all the evening, jest from my
description of that Indian doctor. Well, she done it well; but I wish I
could have seen it!"
"Will Mrs. Darter keep right on and not back-slide, think?" said Mrs.
Conner.
"I think she will," said Doris; "I hope she will. And there's one thing:
after I'm gone (I shall have to run away from my reputation) you must
own up about your ankle--and _me_ to Miss Darter and poor, trusting Miss
Bigelow. She's such a good soul! Mrs. Darter--well, you will know when
it's safe to tell Mrs. Darter."
"Humph!" said Conner, "Emmy'll be grateful! I guess we'll go slow on the
Widow Darter; and as to Ann Bigelow--"
"I do feel sneaky about her," sighed Doris. "It's touching, her faith.
She's a simple-hearted creature. I hate to uproot her."
"Oh, you needn't be afraid," said Conner, grinning; "she won't be
uprooted. She will say it's jest as much mental healing as if you done
it in earnest. And ain't Mrs. Darter healed? she'll say."
"Well," Doris mused aloud, "I dare say she's right. It certainly was a
mental healing, and how far the power of the mind to heal goes none of
us can say. Perhaps, after all, she is right, and it _is_ a bit of a
miracle, although it was only a miracle play!"