am weaker than I was a week ago."

"I dare say," said Jan.

"You dare say!" echoed Lionel. "When a man has turned the point of an
illness, he expects to get stronger, instead of weaker."

"That depends," said Jan. "I beg your pardon, Miss Lucy; that's my foot
caught in your dress, isn't it?"

Lucy turned to disentangle her dress from Jan's great feet. "You should
not sway your feet about so, Jan," said she pleasantly.

"It hasn't hurt it, has it?" asked Jan.

"Oh, no. Is there another skein to hold, Decima?"

Decima replied in the negative. She rose, put the paper of silk upon the
table, and then turned to Jan.

"Mamma and I had quite a contention yesterday," she said to him. "I say
that Lionel is not being treated properly."

"That's just my opinion," laconically replied Jan. "Only West flares up
so, if his treatment is called in question. I'd get him well in half the
time."

Lionel wearily changed his position on the sofa. The getting well, or
the keeping ill, did not appear to interest him greatly.

"Let's look at his medicine, Decima," continued Jan. "I have not seen
what has come round lately."

Decima left the room and brought back a bottle with some medicine in it.

"There's only one dose left," she remarked to Jan.

Jan took the cork out and smelt it; then he tasted it, apparently with
great gusto, as anybody else might taste port wine; while Lucy watched
him, drawing her lips away from her pretty teeth in distaste at the
proceeding.

"Psha!" cried Jan.

"Is it not proper medicine for him?" asked Decima.

"It's as innocent as water," said Jan. "It'll do him neither good nor
harm."

And finally Jan poured the lot down his own throat.

Lucy shuddered.

"Oh, Jan, how could you take it?"

"It won't hurt me," said literal Jan.

"But it must be so nasty! I never could have believed any one would
willingly drink medicine. It is bad enough to do it when compelled by
sickness."

"Law!" returned Jan. "If you call this nasty, Miss Lucy, you should
taste some of our physic. The smell would about knock you down."

"I think nothing is worse than the smell of drugs," resumed Lucy. "The
other day, when Lady Verner called in at your surgery to speak to you,
and took me with her, I was glad to get into the open air again."

"Don't you ever marry a doctor, then, Miss Lucy."

"I am not going to marry one," returned Lucy.

"Well, you need not look so fierce," cried Jan. "I didn't ask you."

Luc