By and by one of them said to Bess: "Mamma says you are a Christian Scientist. Are you?"
"I'm trying to be one," said Bess, carefully.
"Is Chester one?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he doesn't understand it," said Bess. I started to say something about that reply, and then I decided to think about it a little first. I think now, that it was a mighty good answer,—a mighty good one.
"Then why doesn't he learn it, the way we learn lessons?"
Bess shook her head. "It's odd," she said. "Folks are willing to study all sorts of other things, like arithmetic, and music, and how to be doctors and lawyers, and house-builders,—they spend years and years at it; but they don't seem to think it's worth while to study how to do the wonderful things that Jesus did. They seem to think that if it is possible to do these very greatest things in the world, they ought to be able to do them without studying or practising at all,—and because they can't, they don't seem to like it because other people do. I don't see why; when
