"I beg your pardon--what did you say?" asked Mr. French, dropping his pen and turning in his chair.
"The child's not a cripple at all. She can walk as well as I can."
"Walk! Why, she's been a cripple for years! Walk! Why, Mrs. Driscoll never lets her on her feet by any chance!"
"Yes, but when she's alone she runs about the room, and she's as sound on her legs as I am."
"But Dr. O'Malley said with his own mouth she was a cripple for life!"
"Seen her lately? Why, he's been in his coffin three years come next October!"
"Have you had no other doctor to see her?"
"Sure, there's no one else but Rafferty at Cloyne, and he's a fool--and she won't see doctors; she says they are no use to her."
"Well, all I can say is that I've seen her walking. She can run, and she tells me she has been able to for years, only no one will believe her. Whenever they see her on her feet she says they pop her back on the couch. The poor child seems to have become so hopeless of making any one believe her that she has submitted to her fate. I believe she half believes herself that she oughtn't to walk, that it's a sort of sin; she does it more out of perversity than anything else. She's been coddled into invalidhood, and I'm going to coddle her out of it," said Miss Grimshaw. "And if you will come upstairs with me now, I'll show you that she's as firm on her legs as you are yourself."
They went upstairs. As Miss Grimshaw turned the handle of the door of Effie's room a scuffling noise was heard, and when they entered, the child was sitting up on the couch, flushed and bright-eyed.
"Why, what's all this, Effie?" cried her father. "What's all this I've been hearing about your running about the room? Stick your legs out, and let me see you do it."
"I will," said she, "if you promise not to tell Mrs. Driscoll."
For three years the unfortunate child had been suffering from no other disease but Mrs. Driscoll's vivid imagination and the firm belief held by her that the child's back would "snap in two" if she stood on her legs. Vivid and vital, this belief, like some people's faith, refused to listen to suggestion or criticism.
"I won't tell," said Effie's father. "Up with you and let's see you on your pins."
"Now," said Miss Grimshaw, when the evolutions were over, and Miss French had demonstrated her soundness in wind and limb to the full satisfaction of her sire, "what do you think of that?"