"I never give way to them, Aunt Jane. I try to be patient," answered Iris.
Mrs. Dolman tied on her own bonnet with her usual vigor. She then took one of the hot little hands in hers, and, a few moments later, the aunt and niece were standing outside Dr. Kent's door in the pretty little village street.
Dr. Kent was at home. He was a young man, and a clever doctor, and he gave Iris a good overhauling. He listened to her lungs and heart, put several questions to her, was kind in his manner, and did not express the least surprise when he heard that the little girl could neither eat nor sleep.
"I perfectly understand," he said. "And now, my dear, I hope soon to have you as right as a trivet; but, in the meantime, I should like to have a little talk with your aunt. Can you find your way into my dining room? You have only to turn to the left when you leave this room."
"Thank you," answered Iris. She went to the door, opened it, and shut it behind her.
"Now, what do you think about her?" said Aunt Jane. "Out with the truth, please, Dr. Kent. You know I never can stand any beating about the bush."
"There is nothing of the ordinary nature the matter with your little niece," began the doctor.
Mrs. Dolman raised her brows in surprise and indignation.
"How can you say that?" she remarked. "The child looks seriously ill."
"Please allow me to finish my speech. There is nothing the matter with the child in the form of organic or any other disease; but just at present there is such a severe strain on her mind that, if it is not completely relieved, she is very likely to die."