MRS. FAYTH (_cheerily_). Oh, I expect to be flat to-morrow. But it’s worth it--to go somewhere with one’s husband ... after six years. I’m going to the Fifteen Cent Museum next--when I get a little farther along--some big, noisy, healthy, shabby place. Fred has promised to take me. He dotes on the gorillas.... Well, I only ran in. The horses are getting cold. I must go. Give my love to the Doctor--Helen! I’m going to church when I get well. I want to hear the _Te Deum_.... It’s a good while since I did that. They won’t let me. They put it off till the last. Fred said I must begin with the Hospital Fair and work up through the gorillas to re-li-gious dis-si-pa-tion. The Doctor says I’m to get well in a sci-en-ti-fic manner; on the Law of Ev-o-lution. Poor dear Doctor! He doesn’t care about the _Te Deum_.--Helen, I wish your husband believed. He is so good--so kind. He ought to be a re-li-gious man.
MRS. THORNE (_sadly, with almost imperceptible bitterness_). He is a doctor.
MRS. FAYTH. He is so great, you see. He is almighty to so many miserable people.... I can understand that. His mind stops there. He is so strong, so powerful; he works the miracles himself.
MRS. THORNE. My husband has no time to study these questions, Mary. All his life is given up to science, you know. I thought--when we were first married--I could influence him in these ways. But a doctor’s wife learns better than that.
MRS. FAYTH. What he needs is to be half-dead. Then he would _have_ to believe. He is too much alive, poor Doctor.... It is such a joy to be alive, Helen! I thought I must run in and tell you.
MRS. THORNE (_smiling affectionately_). I’ll tell him to be sure and see you to-morrow. You’ll need it.
MRS. FAYTH. Well, Fred can tel-e-phone. I dare say I shall be sick enough. Good-by, dear--Helen? What ails _you_? You don’t look right to-night.
MRS. THORNE (_arousing_). Laddie doesn’t seem well at all. I can’t make Esmerald believe that anything ails him. But that’s the way, you know.... I am not allowed to be anxious. The mother of a doctor’s child can never be that.
MRS. FAYTH (_with quick sympathy_). Oh, I am so sorry! I know just how you feel--
MRS. THORNE. You never had a child, Mary.
MRS. FAYTH. But sick people understand everything. Oh, we know!