"Well, well," said the doctor soothingly, "you can't know much about it here in London. Are you fond of needlework?"
I shook my head with a sense of disgust, and mother laughed a low, mirthless laugh. She knew how I detested needlework.
Dr. Algar refrained from further suggestions, and presently took his departure. When he had gone mother and I looked at each other for a moment, and then I fell to sobbing. All my strength seemed to have departed from me when I fainted, and I felt in a state of utter collapse. Dr. Algar spoke of it as "nervous prostration."
"Come, come, Nan, this won't do," said my mother severely; "you must be brave and face your trouble like a woman. It's a great disappointment, I know, but crying won't help matters, and it might be so much worse."
"I can't see how it could be worse," I cried perversely.
"Can't you?" said mother, with a quaver in her voice. "I can very clearly."
Then, as I continued to sob, she fetched me a glass of hot milk and a biscuit, for the doctor had advised my taking as much light nourishment as possible. Certainly I felt better when I had taken it, though the prospect of the future did not brighten.
"Mother," I said, "what nonsense Dr. Algar talks! How could you send me away into the country? And I am sure I do not want to go. I should be miserable away from you all."
"That would depend on where you went," said my mother. "I wish I could ask your Aunt Patty to take you; but with her husband so sadly she will not want another invalid on her hands."
"Oh, mother, don't call me an invalid!" I exclaimed impatiently.