"Install one of the housemaids as nurse, to see that she takes her medicine. No, Lady Muriel! As your physician, I insist that you go out for some fresh air. I have your health to consider as well as that of your young guest. She'll be in no danger while you are away."
The medicine arrived shortly after the doctor's departure—much too soon, in Aldred's opinion. It was a huge bottle, and was labelled: "Two tablespoonfuls to be taken every two hours". Anything more absolutely disgusting Aldred had never tasted; it seemed a combined mixture of every disagreeable drug in the pharmacopœia. Burke, an elderly servant, had been placed on duty in the sick-room, and informed her patient that she had received express orders from Dr. Rawlins himself not to omit a single dose.
"He told me most particularly, miss, that you were to have it," she announced, in reply to Aldred's violent objections. "He said it was most important, and if I couldn't get you to take it I was to telephone for him, and he'd come himself and make you!"
Aldred swallowed her nauseous draught at a gulp. She was not anxious to receive another professional visit. She had gathered from the doctor's manner that he diagnosed the nature of the case, though he did not care to offend Lady Muriel by expounding his opinion. It was ill-natured of him, the girl thought, to give her so severe a punishment; he could not understand her motives, and he might have treated her with more consideration. The one redeeming point of the medicine was that it utterly spoilt her appetite, and took away all desire for food; and she was enabled to show a genuine lack of interest in the beef-tea and jelly that were sent up for her.
Another long, long day dragged itself out. Aldred was in the very lowest of low spirits. She had ventured to beg for a book, but Burke promptly replied that the doctor had forbidden either reading or conversation, and had recommended her to keep perfectly quiet. So there was nothing for it but to lie with half-closed eyes, listening to the everlasting click of Burke's knitting needles, an irritating sound in itself, and made worse by its monotony. Aldred counted the spots on the muslin blinds and the roses on the chintz bed curtains, and tried to imagine faces in the pattern of the wall paper; she recited in her mind every piece of poetry that she knew, and as much as she could remember of the play the girls had acted at Christmas. She was even reduced to repeating French verbs, to relieve her utter boredom; and hardly knew whether to be glad or apprehensive when Mabel paid her a visit at seven o'clock.
"We've had a glorious afternoon," said the latter. "The road was free, so we spun along, and got to Evington in an hour and a half. Cousin Marion was so delighted to see us! She'd have been very disappointed if we hadn't gone."
"I'm so glad you did!" put in Aldred.
"But she was fearfully disappointed not to see you, darling, and so sorry when we told her you were ill. We talked about you for quite a long time. Didn't your ears burn this afternoon?"
"I didn't notice."
"Well, I'm sure they ought to have done so. I won't tell you all we said, because you don't like to be praised, but you'd have been very flattered if you'd heard. Cousin Marion remembers you quite distinctly."