"You would know better how to sing, to wit?" said the doctor.
"And to pray -" I said half under my breath.
"Daisy, I haven't a schedule of the cases here; and if I told you, you might forget, among so many, which was which. Anyhow, I have not the schedule."
"No, but you could do this for me. To-night, Dr. Sandford, when you go round, you could indicate to me what I want to know, and nobody else be the wiser. When we come to any case that is serious, but with hope, take hold of your chin, so; if any is serious without hope, just pass your hand through your hair. You do that often."
"Not when I am going my rounds, Daisy," said the doctor, looking amused.
"Only this time, for me," I pleaded.
"You would not sing as well."
"I should - or I might - know better how to sing."
"Or you might not be able to sing at all. Though your nerves are good," the doctor admitted. "Women's nerves are made of a material altogether differently selected, or tempered, from that of masculine nerves; pure metal, of some ethereal sort."
"Are there such things as masculine nerves?" I asked.