an end, she
proposed to return to her High School in London. Zeal for the higher
mathematics devoured her. But she still looked so frail, and coughed so
often--a perfect _Campo Santo_ of a cough--in spite of her summer of
open-air exercise, that I positively worried her into consulting a
doctor--not one of the Fortescue-Langley order. The report he gave was
mildly unfavourable. He spoke disrespectfully of the apex of her right
lung. It was not exactly tubercular, he remarked, but he 'feared
tuberculosis'--excuse the long words; the phrase was his, not mine; I
repeat _verbatim_. He vetoed her exposing herself to a winter in London
in her present unstable condition. Davos? Well, no. _Not_ Davos: with
deliberative thumb and finger on close-shaven chin. He judged her too
delicate for such drastic remedies. Those high mountain stations suited
best the robust invalid, who had dropped by accident into casual
phthisis. For Miss Petheridge's case--looking wise--he would not
recommend the Riviera, either: too stimulating, too exciting. What this
young lady needed most was rest: rest in some agreeable southern town,
some city of the soul--say Rome or Florence--where she might find much
to interest her, and might forget the apex of her right lung in the new
world of art that opened around her.

'Very well,' I said, promptly; 'that's settled, Elsie. The apex and you
shall winter in Florence.'

'But, Brownie, can we afford it?'

'Afford it?' I echoed. 'Goodness gracious, my dear child, what a
bourgeois sentiment! Your medical attendant says to you, "Go to
Florence": and to Florence you must go; there's no getting out of it.
Why, even the swallows fly south when their medical attendant tells them
England is turning a trifle too cold for them.'

'But what will Miss Latimer say? She depends upon me to come back at the
beginning of term. She _must_ have _somebody_ to undertake the higher
mathematics.'

'And she will get somebody, dear,' I answered, calmly. 'Don't trouble
your sweet little head about that. An eminent statistician has
calculated that five hundred and thirty duly qualified young women are
now standing four-square in a solid phalanx in the streets of London,
all agog to teach the higher mathematics to anyone who wants them at a
moment's notice. Let Miss Latimer take her pick of the five hundred and
thirty. I'll wire to her at once: "Elsie Petheridge unable through ill
health to resume her duties. Ordered to Florence. R