She lay prone and, plucking a blade of grass, fell to playing with an ant-hill under her nose. I watched her, lazy and peaceful, basking in the June sunshine.
"Have you seen Doctor Copin lately?" I asked.
"No. He may come down to-day, though. I hope he will."
"Oh, you like him, then?" I said, giving my voice the inflections of mock jealousy.
"Not as well as I do you," she said, rolling a little nearer me to tickle my ear with her straw.
"What makes you think he'll come?"
"I telephoned to him this morning, and he said he might. He's just got back to town and wants to see me. He runs down when he likes."
"On business, I suppose?"
"Yes, about my memory. He makes diagram things and tries experiments on me."
I was interested. "Experiments? What kind?"