"There, there, there!" broke in the doctor. "How do you know that we are not both of us sowing that we may reap? One never knows how useful it may be to be friends with a man in your profession," he chuckled.
Madame Varenne made her adieux and left with a rather wistful look at Floriot as she pressed his hand. She promised to come back the first thing in the morning.
"And now, friend Floriot," said the doctor, looking at him gravely, "as the boy is out of danger, you begin taking care of yourself."
Floriot stared at him in surprise.
"Why, there's nothing the matter with me!" he exclaimed.
"Oh, yes, there is!" retorted the man of medicine. "And a great deal more than you think!"
"Nonsense!" said Floriot, lightly. "I'm a little tired, but a few days' rest will——"
"No, no, no!" interrupted the doctor, with an energetic shake of the head. "You are working too much and you are taking too little exercise. You brood and worry over things and you must take a cure!"
"What sort of a cure?" inquired Floriot, with an uneasy glance.
"Every morning, no matter what the weather is, you must take a smart two hours' walk."