One night Tiddy found her in tears.
“What a soaker!” said Tiddy.
“I’m so miserable,” groaned Cicely.
“Why?”
“I’m such a failure, Tiddy.”
“Tosh! The real trouble with you, Cis, is excess of sentiment. You look at my patient, for instance, with sweet girlish pity. He hates that. He doesn’t want sweet girlish pity. Smiles buck him up, and strong language.”
“I thought I could count on your sympathy.”
“So did my patient. Sympathy can be shown without being sloppy. I made my patient laugh.”
“How?”
“I told him about the old woman who keeps our lodge. She left one doctor and went to another, but, being a bit of a pincher, she went on taking the medicine of the first with the medicine of the second, and a sort of earthquake took place inside her.”