One evening Laidlaw, looking sober as a deacon, came to the office and requested us to repair to an upper room for consultation. He looked so dignified we knew something was up. Closing the door upon us, and solemnly unbuttoning his coat, he revealed a fat mince pie. After we had discussed it to the last crumb, and I had voted it the best pie I ever ate, he informed me it was a brandied pie. In those days I refused pies or sauces if I knew they contained brandy or sherry. Having wheedled the cook to put a double dose in that pie, he and the others chuckled to see the little teetotaller partake of it so greedily. At that time I was gullible, fairly docile, and must have been rare sport for the more sophisticated three. The young men lectured me in a fatherly way, and really did me a good service in getting me over some of my unduly prim ways. The first college year I had been so “proper” I would not let my father see me in my “gym” suit; yet before the year was over Miss Thorndike and I, to shock Miss Wilkins, had had our tin-types taken in those suits! One morning at the breakfast table, at the hospital, I was shocked to find a pencil sketch of two young women gymnasts, a rough sketch which implied that the one who made it must have seen this tin-type. Knowing it to be the work of Fenton and Laidlaw, I was distressed to think they must have seen the original; but was greatly relieved to find that Dr. Thorndike and a girl friend had simply described it minutely to them, so they could make me think they had seen it. After that Miss Thorndike’s friend, seeing how I was given to straining at gnats and swallowing camels, made a clever sketch of a prim maiden sitting in a large chair, the arms and legs of which were covered with gloves and stockings, while a statue of Venus (draped) stood near, and the maiden, holding a fan between her face and the draped statue, was absorbed in a book of Zola’s! Though I had never read a word of Zola’s I saw what a clever hit this was at my inconsistencies. Still I did not consider myself prudish; I could discuss medical topics freely with any one without embarrassment; but did not like jesting about certain matters; and perhaps, when in dead earnest, _was_ rather slow in seeing the funny side of things. So the others claimed I needed some shocking and disciplining to get me over my squeamishness, and perhaps I did. I remember how Fenton scolded me one day for objecting when he started to brush the lint from my gown: “There’s no sense in your being so prim--I don’t want you to be as free and easy as Miss ---- is, but you certainly do carry modesty too far.” He was so fine and honest, I know I profited by that and other advice of his.