FullReads

“Yes’m,” said Emmy; “but please go on; mother is listening.”

“Well, I stood there dazed, you may say; and just then in came Miss Keith. She’s a little slim thing, but such eyes! They seem to look you through and through! I’d have known she was a healer even if Mrs. Conner hadn’t told me the night before when she was over in our house. She stood there, just simply looking at Mrs. Conner, not saying a word for a minnit. Then she says in the kindest voice–I can’t tell you how soft and kind her voice was!–she says, ‘Have you the impression of great pain, Mrs. Conner?’ And Mrs. Conner–you know how–well abruptly–she speaks, she said: ‘ Impression of pain? I only wish you had something jabbing you like a hot iron, I guess you’d be impressed. Ain’t anybody going to take off my stocking? It’s swelling every minnit!’ Miss Keith only looked at her, and lifted her hand for me and the girl to keep still. I expect she was giving her silent treatment, for in a moment or two she said: ‘Well?’ in such an inspiring, cheerful tone; and Mrs. Conner said, ‘Why, it’s better!’ surprised as could be; and I had to clap my hands for joy. But Miss Keith told us both to go out for a while and so we did. We waited half an hour by the clock, and that girl was the most restless being you ever saw. I had all I could to keep her quiet. Then the door opened–” Miss Bigelow made a wave of her plump hands, indicating the opening of a door, and paused with hands and voice. Mrs. Darter had ceased to groan.

“What happened?” said Emmy.

Miss Bigelow’s hands met in a clap. ” Mrs. Conner came walking out with Miss Keith, that’s what happened! ” said she, in a low, solemn voice.

“On her sprained ankle?” cried Mrs. Darter.

“On her sprained ankle, her that couldn’t move it without nearly 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–“