A CLINICAL REPORT.
Lucy was up--actually standing by the fire in her own room--and Lucy
was as saucy as ever.
"I believe you have grown," said Mona, regarding her critically.
"I should think I had! I must be two inches taller at least. What
do you think, Mona? I have had two offers of marriage this summer."
"That is not surprising. I never had much opinion of the
intelligence of the other sex. I hope you refused them."
"I did; but I will accept the next man who asks me, even if he is a
chimney-sweep, just to spite you."
"Poor chimney-sweep! But look here, Pussy, you should not stand so
long. Sit down in the arm-chair, and let me wrap you up in the
eider-down. And put your feet on the stool--so! Comfy?"
"Very comfy, thanks."
"When you are strong enough, I want you to give me a full,
particular, and scientific account of your illness. How came you by
acute rheumatism? You are not a beef and beer man."
"Well, when I went home I was in the most tearing spirits for the
first week, and then I gradually began to feel fit for nothing. No
appetite, short breath, and all the rest of it. I knew all I wanted
was a tonic, and I determined to prescribe one for myself, on the
strength of an intimate acquaintance with Mitchell Bruce. As a
preparatory step, in the watches of the night, I tried to run over
the ingredients and doses of the preparations of iron; but for the
life of me I could not remember them. Think of it! A month after
the examination! I could not even remember that _pièce de
resistance_--you know!--the 'cinchona bark, calumba root, cloves'
thing."
"Compound tincture of cardamoms and tincture of orange-peel,"
completed Mona mechanically.
"Of course. That's it. 'Macerated in peppermint-water,' wasn't it?
or something of that sort. However, it does not matter now that I
have passed."
"Not in the least!"
"Well, while I meditated, mother sent for the doctor, a mere
boy--ugh! If I had been seriously ill, I should have said, 'Welcome
death!' and declined to see him; but it was only a question of a
tonic, so I resigned myself. He prescribed hypophosphites, and said
I was to have a slice off the roast, or a chop or something, and a
glass of porter twice a day."
"_Ah!_" said Mona.
"It was no use telling mother that the infant knew less than I did.
He was 'the doctor,' and that was enough. His word was law. I will
say this for him, that I did get stronger; but just before I came
back to town, I began to feel ill in quite a different way;
indescribably queer, and fidgety and wretched. Mother made me stick
to the beef and porter, as if my soul's weal had depended on it, and
we all hoped the change to London might do me good. Just at first, I
did feel a little better, and one afternoon Marion Proctor asked me
to go down the river with her, and I went. My white dress was newly
washed, and I had just done up my hat for the sixth time this summer.
You may say what you like, Mona, but I did look awfully nice."
"I don't doubt it."
"I did not take my waterproof, because it completely spoilt the
general effect, and I was sure it would not rain; but, as I told you,
a tremendous thunderstorm came on, and we were drenched."
"Oh, Lucy!"
"When we got back here, there was not a fire in the house, and, do
what I would, I got thoroughly chilled. I was shivering so, and I
felt so feverish, that Marion insisted on spending the night with me.
She slept in the room you have, and I was to knock on the wall if I
wanted her."
Lucy stopped and shivered.
"There, dear," said Mona, "you will tell me the rest another time.
You are tiring yourself."
"No, I am not; I like to tell you. Mona, I woke at two in the
morning with these words in my mind, 'The sufferings of the damned.'
Don't call me irreverent. You don't know what it is. It took me
_three-quarters of an hour_ to get out of bed to knock for Marion,
and the tears were running down my face like rain."
"My poor baby!" Mona got up and knelt down beside her; but Lucy was
already laughing at the next recollection.
"Oh, Mona, I did not see the comedy of it then, but I shall never
forget that sight. The glimmering candle--Marion shivering in her
night-dress, her sleepy eyes blinking as she read from a medical
book, 'Rheumatism is probably due to excess of sarcolactic acid in
the blood'! as if I was not far past caring what it was due to! Good
old Marion! she dressed herself at once, and at six she went for Dr
Bateson. Of course with the dawn the pain just came within the
limits of endurance; but when the doctor gave me morphia, I could
have fallen down and worshipped her."
"You poor little girl! How I wish I had been here! Let me go, dear,
a minute. It is time for your medicine.'
"Nasty bitter-sweet stuff--I wish I could stop _that_!"
"Why? I am sure it has worked wonders. How I wish we knew exactly
how it acts!"
Lucy laughed. "You are as bad as Marion," she said. "If you were on
the rack, you would not trouble yourself to understand the mechanism
that stopped the wheels, so long as they were stopped. I leave it to
you, dear, to cultivate the infant bacillus on a nice little nutrient
jelly, and then polish him off with a dilute solution of salicin."
"What we want now," said Mona meditatively, stroking the curly red
hair, "is to get back our baby face. How do we mean to set about it?"
Lucy made a little _moue_. "Dr Bateson said something about the
south of France--such a waste of time! And Father says when I come
back to London I am to live at the College Hall again."
"I am very glad to hear it. I always thought your leaving was a
great mistake."
"Why, you lived in rooms yourself!"
"Oh, _I_! I am an old granny full of fads, and quite able to take
care of myself."
"Your best friend could not deny that you are full of fads; and that
reminds me, Mona, it is your innings now. I am 'clagging' to hear
all about Borrowness, and the shop and your cousin. Your last letter
fell very flat on expectant spirits."
Mona went leisurely back to her chair. "You see, dear," she said, "I
am in rather a difficult position. It would be very amusing to give
you a piquant account of my doings; but I went to Borrowness of my
own free will, and even an unvarnished story of my life there would
be disloyal to my cousin. Borrowness is not a pretty place. The
country is flat, but the coast is simply glorious. The rocks----"
"Thanks--I don't mind taking the rocks for granted. I want to hear
about your cousin and the shop."
"I will give you a rough outline of my cousin, and leave the details
to your vivid imagination. She is very kind, very pious, very
narrow, and very dull."
"_Good Lord deliver us!_" murmured Lucy gravely. "And the shop?"
"The shop is awful. You can imagine nothing worse than the truth."
"A nice sphere for Mona Maclean!"
"Oh, my dear, there is sphere enough in all conscience--only too much
sphere! I never saw so clearly in my life before that nothing
depends on what a man does, but that everything depends on how he
does it. Even that twopenny-halfpenny shop might be made a centre of
culture and taste and refinement for the whole neighbourhood."
"You would have to get rid of your cousin first."
"I don't know. One would rather have quite a free hand. But she is
wonderfully liberal about things that must seem sheer nonsense to
her."
"She well may be!"
"That is absurd. Why should she pay in appreciation for qualities
that she does not in the least want, and would rather be without?
You must not judge of my suitability to her by my suitability
to--you, for instance."
"Then she does not even appreciate you?"
Mona meditated before replying. "She likes me," she said, "but she
thinks me absurdly 'superior' one minute, and gratuitously frivolous
the next. She has not got hold of the main thread of my character,
so of course she thinks me a bundle of inconsistencies."
"Why do you stay?"
Mona sighed. "We won't go into that, dear. I have committed myself.
Besides, my cousin likes me; she was very unwilling to part with me,
even for a week."
"Selfish brute!" said Lucy inconsistently. "Is there any society?"
"No; but if there were, it would consider itself a cut above me."
"Any men?"
There was a momentary pause. "My dear, do I ever know anything about
the men in a place?"
"I was hoping you had started a few of your Platonic friendships.
They would at least save you from moping to death."
"Moping to death!" said Mona, springing to her feet "My dear child, I
never was farther from that in my life. I botanise, and once in a
way I meet some of the greatest living scientists. I do the best
sketches I ever did in my life, and I have developed a greater talent
for millinery than you can even conceive!"