Patty walked gloomily down the corridor, lost in meditation. Her way led past the door of the doctor's office, which was standing invitingly open. Three or four girls were sitting around the room, laughing and talking and waiting their turns. Patty glanced in, and a radiant smile suddenly lightened her face, but it was instantly replaced by a look of settled sadness. She walked in and dropped into an arm-chair with a sigh.
"What's the matter, Patty? You look as if you had melancholia."
Patty smiled apathetically. "Not quite so bad as that," she murmured, and leaned back and closed her eyes.
What's the matter, Patty?
"Next," said the doctor from the doorway; but as she caught sight of Patty she walked over and shook her arm. "Is this Patty Wyatt? What is the matter with you, child?"
Patty opened her eyes with a start. "Nothing," she said; "I'm just a little tired."
"Come in here with me."
"It's not my turn," objected Patty.
"That makes no difference," returned the doctor.