"I hadn't been sleeping," explained Jean with dignity.
Mabel thought of some sleepless nights.
"The best cure is always to believe that it can't last," said she. "Do you remember papa's telling us how Carlyle comforted Mrs. Carlyle when she had toothache? He said it wouldn't be permanent."
"What a brute," said Jean.
"Well, it sent me to sleep once or twice when I remembered that," said Mabel. "But you never were ill like this before. You couldn't believe in getting well, could you?"
"I was sure I was going to die," said Jean in a hushed voice.
Mabel's heart had ached. Could she tell Jean of that ache and how she had been obliged to cover it up by making herself believe that it could not possibly be permanent.
"Jean, do you know, I think it's so jolly being here, getting to know the best way of doing things, and all that sort of thing, I think I shall ask papa to let me stay longer. Do you think they would let me?"
"Well, they let me--and then I didn't want to," said Jean.
"And I didn't want to and now I do," said Mabel. "Let's try it for a week or two anyhow."