“Nan,” she called, and Nan came flying in from the next room.
“I’m awful hungry,” said Patty, “and I am pretty tired, but the play is over, isn’t it, Nan? I can’t seem to remember about last night.”
“Yes, it’s over, Patsy, and everything is all right, and you haven’t a thing to do but get rested. Will you have your breakfast now, or your luncheon?—because you’ve really skipped both.”
“Then I’ll have them both,” said Patty with decision. “I’m hungry enough to eat a house.”
Later, Patty insisted on dressing and going downstairs for dinner, declaring she felt perfectly well, but the exertion tired her more than she cared to admit, and when Dr. Martin came in the evening, she questioned him directly.
“I’m not really ill, am I, Dr. Martin? I’ll be all right in a day or two, won’t I? It’s so silly to get tired just walking downstairs.”
“Don’t be alarmed,” said the old doctor, “you will be all right in a day or two. By day after to-morrow you can walk downstairs, or run down, if you like, without feeling tired at all.”
“Then that’s all right,” said Patty. “I suppose I did do too much with my school work, and the play, and everything, but I couldn’t seem to help it, and if I get over it in a week I’ll be satisfied. In fact, I shan’t mind a bit, lounging around and resting for a few days.”
“That’s just the thing for you to do,” agreed Dr. Martin, “and I’ll give you another prescription. After a week or two of rest, you need recreation. You must get out of the city, and go somewhere in the country. Not seashore or the mountains just yet, but away into the country, where you’ll have plenty of fresh air and nothing to do. You mustn’t look at a book of any sort or description for a month or two at least. Will you promise me that?”
“With great pleasure,” said Patty, gaily, “I don’t think I shall care to see a book all summer long; not a schoolbook anyway. I suppose I may read storybooks.”