mbering something.

"I have done such a stupid thing!" she exclaimed, with an expression of
annoyance. "I believe I am losing my memory!"

"What is it?" asked Veronica, naturally.

"I sent my maid out, just before I came to you, with a number of errands
to do, and I forgot two things that I wanted very much. There was some
medicine which I was to take before luncheon, and some jet beads that I
needed. I do not care so much about the beads, but I need the medicine.
I feel so horribly tired and weak, all the time."

"Send one of the men," suggested Veronica.

"A man could not buy jet things," objected Matilde. "You could not let
Elettra go out for me, could you? It is a fine morning, for a wonder,
and she need not be gone more than half an hour."

"Certainly," answered Veronica, promptly. "She has nothing to do, and
the walk will be good for her."

She rose and rang for her maid.

"I will go and get the recipe," said Matilde, rising, too. "It is an old
one, given me by our poor doctor who died last year, and I kept it
because it did me so much good. They will make it up in ten minutes. She
can go and buy the jet, and stop for it on the way back. Will you tell
her that she may go?"

Elettra had entered the room, and Veronica explained to her what she was
to do.

"Put on your hat, Elettra," said Matilde, "and then please come to my
room, and I will give you the recipe. I must find it among my things. I
will be back presently, dear," she said to Veronica.

She went out, followed by the maid, who did as she was bidden and then
went to Matilde's room. The countess explained exactly what sort of jet
she wanted, and then gave her the recipe.

"Tell the chemist that this is only for two doses," she said, "but that
I wish him to make up twenty doses, because I am going to take it
regularly. Say that it is for me, and go to Casadio for it, where we get
everything. Have it put down on the bill. Do you understand? Here are
twenty francs for the jet, but you will not need so much. You
understand, do you?"

"Yes, Excellency."

Elettra stuck the little slip of paper, on which the recipe was written,
into her shabby pocket-book without looking at it. She could read and
write fairly well, and had been used to helping her husband the
under-steward with his accounts at Muro, but even if she had looked at
the recipe she would have understood nothing of the doctor's
hieroglyphics and abbreviated Latin words. The prescription