She mounted the stairs and tapped at the door of Palmerston's attic chamber.
"Hullo!" said she looking in, "what's become of Geraldine?" (Mrs Bowldler's Christian name was Sarah, but the two children vied in inventing others more suitable to her gentility).
"If by Geraldine you mean Herm-Intrude," said Palmerston, sitting up in bed and grinning, "she's out in the grounds, picking—"
"Culling," corrected Fancy. "Her own word."
"Well then—culling lamb mint."
"I should ha' thought sage-an'-onions was the stuffin' relied on by this establishment."
"Seasonin'," corrected Palmerston. "But what have you been doin' all this time?"
"My dear, don't ask!" Fancy seated herself at the foot of the bed.
"If you must know, I've been playin' Meddlesome Matty life-size. . . .
These grown-ups are all so helpless—the men especially! . . .
Feelin' better?"
"Heaps. 'Tis foolishness, keepin' me in bed like this, and I wish you'd tell her so. I'm all right—'xcept in my mind."
"What's wrong with your mind?"