"Eh?" was the reply, spoken in a thin and high voice.
"What has been troubling you?"
Cuckoo, who was wholly unaccustomed to answer a doctor's questions, started violently. She fancied from his words that he had divined the lie she had told when she said that she was ill, and knew that she came for a mental reason. Instinctively she connected the word "trouble" with the heart, in a way that was oddly and pathetically girlish. Acting upon this impulse she exclaimed:
"Then you know as I ain't ill?"
Doctor Levillier was still more surprised. Not understanding what was in her mind, he entirely failed to keep pace with its agility.
"Why do you come to me, then?" he asked.
"Oh," she returned, with a quickly gathering hesitation, "I thought as perhaps you knew."
"I! But we have never met before."
The doctor bent his eyes on her searchingly. For a moment he began to wonder whether his visitor was quite right in her head. Cuckoo shuffled under his gaze. The very kindliness of his face and gentleness of his voice made her feel hot and abashed. A prickly sensation ran over her body as she cleared her throat and said, monosyllabically:
"No."