CHAPTER XXIV.
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!”