"Oh, indeed he is," said Miss Lydia; "he is a dear, good boy. I hope he is doing you good?" she ended, with eager kindness.
"Yes, I think so," he said, anxiously. And then he gave his symptoms with a detail that made poor Miss Lydia get very red. "And I don't sleep very well," he ended, sighing. "Willy told me to try repeating the kings of England backward, but I couldn't remember them; so it didn't do any good."
"When I don't sleep," said Miss Lydia, "I just count my blessings. That's a splendid thing to do, because you fall asleep before you get to the end of 'em."
William sighed. "The kings of England was a foolish prescription; yet I paid Willy $1.50 for that call. Still, I must say I think he is doing me good; but he recommends many expensive things—perhaps because he is young. He wished me to hire a vehicle and drive every day. Now just think of the expense of such a thing! I suggested to him that instead of hiring a conveyance, I would go out with him in his buggy whenever he calls. He is a very young man to treat an important case," William ended, sighing. Then he asked Lydia about her health, with an exactness which she thought very kind.
"Yes, I'm always well; and so sorry for the poor people who are sick," she said.
"You are a good nurse, aren't you, Lydy?" he asked.
"I'm always glad when I can do anything for a sick person. I'm so sorry for 'em," Miss Lydia said, kindly.
"And you are economical, aren't you, Lydy?" Mr. Rives inquired, in his mild voice, "and not fond of dress?"
"Bless you!" said Lydia, "how can I be anything but economical? And as for being fond of dress—I'm fond of my old dresses, William."
"That is an excellent trait," said William Rives, solemnly. Then, catching sight of his own portrait—the slim, anæmic young person in a stock and tight-waisted coat, with very small feet and very large hat, he got up to look at it. "I—have changed a little," he said, doubtfully.