"I did, sir."
"Very bad symptom, indeed, and must be stopped before a relapse! Here, I have cured three prophets and ten poets with this novel specific."
While thus speaking, he had got out his book and a globule. "Agaricus muscarius dissolved in a tumbler of distilled water—tea-spoonful whenever the fit comes on. Sir, it would have cured Milton himself."
"And now for you, my child," turning to Helen; "I have found a lady who will be very kind to you. Not a menial situation. She wants some one to read to her, and tend on her—she is old and has no children. She wants a companion, and prefers a girl of your age to one older. Will this suit you?"
Leonard walked away.
Helen got close to the Doctor's ear, and whispered, "No, I can not leave him now—he is so sad."
"Cott!" grunted the Doctor, "you two must have been reading Paul and Virginia. If I could but stay in England, I would try what ignatia would do in this case—interesting experiment! Listen to me—little girl, and go out of the room, you, sir."
Leonard, averting his face, obeyed. Helen made an involuntary step after him—the Doctor detained and drew her on his knee.
"What's your Christian name?—I forget."
"Helen."