"Poor child! There, I don't want to scold you," and he took her hand and kept it gently in his own as he spoke; "but if you have any real regard for your mother, and don't want to bring endless trouble and expense upon her, you must obey my orders. One of my daughters had to spend the best part of a year on her back once. You shall have the loan of her board for as long as you require it. If you could go to the seaside for a month, it would do you all the good in the world. Couldn't it be managed?"
His last words were addressed to Mrs. Grainger, who had been an anxious listener to the conversation between him and Dora.
"Whatever is necessary shall be done," she said, quietly.
"Well, well, I'll tell my man to bring round the board," said the kind-hearted doctor, "and I'll look in again in a few days to see what effect the lying down and the medicine have taken," and bidding them good-bye, he bustled away.
No sooner had he gone than Dora broke down completely. So violent was her weeping that when at length her sobs ceased she was quite exhausted. Perhaps it was because she was too weak to resist, that she suffered herself to be led to her room. Then having darkened the window, her mother sat down by her side, and gently bathed her heated forehead.
"Oh, mother, and this is the end of it!"
They were the first words she had spoken since the doctor had left. Only too well did Mrs. Grainger understand them.
"I should not wonder," she replied softly, "if in the future you will look back to this time and say, very happily, 'That was the beginning of it all.'"
"That could not be. See the trouble I have brought upon you when I only tried to be a help."
"Dora, you would not take the rest Nature demanded, and as her laws bring their own punishment if disobeyed, you must pay the penalty. Be thankful it is no worse."