“An operation could be attempted,” said Jeannie, “but it would be very dangerous, and not hopeful.”
“I am glad of that,” said Miss Phœbe, “for you must know, Miss Avesham, that I am a terrible coward, and if there is one thing I dread it is being pulled about by a professional man. I have three teeth now that ought to come out. Would you think it very cowardly of me if I preferred not to have the operation?”
“Oh, thank God you bear it so well!” cried Jeannie, suddenly. “No, I should not think it cowardly. I think you are right. You a coward!” she said; “you are the bravest woman I ever saw.”
Miss Clifford’s face brightened with pleasure.
“I prayed God to let me not be very foolish about it,” she said. “Tell me one more thing. Would there have been a chance if I had gone to a doctor sooner?”
“There would,” said Jeannie, simply.
“Then will you promise me something?” asked Phœbe.
“Anything.”
“Don’t let poor Clara know that,” said Phœbe. “And oh, Miss Avesham, supposing she puts it to you rather directly, do you think you could go so far as to—well, to tell her just a little fib about it? It would save Clara a great deal of distress, for she would reproach herself for not having insisted on my seeing a doctor.”
“I will lie to any extent,” said Jeannie; “and I promise you that Dr. Maitland shall, too.”