There is a monument, too, to a Margaret Fotheringham on the opposite wall. She died young. I am so glad she did, for I have always loathed her, because Aunt Amelia used to tell me I ought to try to follow her good example. There is a long list of her virtues, and then it says:— ’This monument was erected by her afflicted father who, when he looks upon this place, knows that he gazes on an angel’s tomb.’ But then, as Ross used to say when we were seven and I was extra specially fed up with my angelic ancestress, ’I don’t suppose she really was as good and holy as all that, Meg, all men are liars; it says so in the Bible.’ Monica once said I ought to be proud of such ancient lineage, but I don’t see why. We all go back to Adam. ’Yes,’ said Monica, tilting up her chin, ’but it isn’t every one that has written down how they did it.’ Of course I _do_ see that these things _do_ link one up to one’s family. ’Just as varicose veins do to the centuries, little ’un,’ father laughed, but he didn’t condescend to explain what he meant. He is sometimes intentionally ambiguous. *CHAPTER IX* I fainted the day before yesterday, and I feel anxious about my health. I have been since I had the ’flu twice last winter. They say the after effects are worse than the disease. I have delusions: I find centipedes in my sponge. There was another yesterday, and I felt my condition was getting serious, so I spoke to Ross about it. ’Lawks, got ’em _again_,’ he said, ’would you like a gun to shoot ’em with?’ I mentioned it to father, but, he, too, seemed to think I only thought I saw them. I went downstairs and found him mending a riding-whip. ’Do you ever see centipedes walking out of your sponge, father?’ ’Never, I’m thankful to say,’ he replied, dropping the whip suddenly and looking at me anxiously. ’But, Meg, what other symptoms have you? Does your head ache? Do you vomit? Does everything revolve? How many fingers am I holding up? Am I ever twins?’ ’Do be serious, father.’ ’I am,’ he replied, trying to feel my pulse; ’I think it’s frightfully serious. I shall get Toby to see you to-day and take you up to a specialist to-morrow. I understand it’s frightfully on the increase amongst women.’ Well, I have heard of people with an _idee fixé_, and if there is such a thing as an insect fixe I must have it, and pretty badly, too, for another dropped out just before lunch when I was going to wash my face. Nannie came in then and said, ’Dearie, why don’t you keep your sponge on the top of your water jug instead of by the window; that’s the fourth centipede I’ve found in your basin this week.’ She is a comfort.