hero-worship. "Well, and there was one more, the greatest of all,
who didn't found any asylums, or lead any crusade--" She paused.

"Surely," said the doctor, quietly. "Surely. I suppose that curing
the lame here, and the blind there, and giving the people their fill
of wine one day, and of bread and fishes the next, might be called
'dabbling' in these days. But the love that went with those things
is warming the world yet!"

"Well, but what can we DO?" demanded Mrs. Brown after a short
silence.

"That's for us to find out," said Mrs. Burgoyne, cheerfully.

"A correct diagnosis is half a cure," ended the doctor, hopefully.




CHAPTER IX

Barry was the last guest to reach Holly Hall on the evening of Mrs.
Burgoyne's first dinner-party, and came in to find the great painter
who was her guest the centre of a laughing and talking group in the
long drawing-room. Mrs. Apostleman, with an open book of
reproductions from Whistler on her broad, brocade lap, had the
armchair next to the guest of honor, and Barry's quick look for his
hostess discovered her on a low hassock at the painter's knee,
looking very young and fresh, in her white frock, with a LaMarque
rose at her belt and another in her dark hair. She greeted him very