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 will find that the whole book stretches, a smooth, perfect skein before you, instead of an unmeaning tangle of twists and snarls, as you seem to see it now. It isa flawless, continuous thread, when you have made sufficient effort to grasp the right end, and follow it through its length. That is what other people have done;—aren't you capable of doing it?"

I ran the leaves of the book through my fingers. I knew that, in a way, Uncle Rob was right about my looking for trouble; that is, I didn't exactly look for it, but when I found something that seemed unreasonable or contradictory, I pounced upon it and wished that Bess was there so that I could show her how absurd it was. I could see, too, that it was mighty conceited for me to say that nobody understood it, just because I didn't. Someway I didn't feel very proud of myself.

"What's the main difficulty?" asked Uncle Rob.

"Contradictory."

"How?"

"Says there is no such thing as sickness,—and then says how to cure it. It can't consistently tell how to cure it, when it says there isn't any."