“You are quite well?” he asked, handing her a chair.
“Quite, I am thankful to say. No hope of finding another patient in me, doctor,” she returned laughingly. “But what of Aunt Nannette?”
“I think she needs a change of air and scene. I have been trying to persuade her to go to Europe for the summer; or if she would stay a year, it would be better.”
“Preposterous idea!” wheezed the patient. “Hardly able to ride down town, how could I think of undertaking to cross the ocean? Suppose there should be a shipwreck; immensely heavy, unwieldy, helpless as I am, I’d go to the bottom like a lump of lead. No, no, home’s the only place for me.”
“You will get no better here, Madame,” said the doctor shortly.
“And we need not anticipate a shipwreck,” said Ethel. “The sea air might do you great good.”
“I tell you it’s nonsense to talk of it!” returned the Madame impatiently.
The doctor rose and bowed himself out. Ethel ran after him, stopped him in the hall, and talked eagerly for a few moments.
“By all means, if you can persuade her; anything for a change,” he answered, bidding the young girl a smiling adieu.
She stood musing a moment when he had left her; then rousing herself, hastened back to her aunt, who said reproachfully: