"So we have, dear, but not to-day, nor yet to-morrow. I won't have my coming throw you back. You are to eat all the milk and eggs and nursery pudding that you possibly can, and I will read you the last new thing in three-volume novels." Lucy resigned herself to this _régime_ the more readily as she was too weak to talk; and she certainly did make remarkable progress in the next day or two. She was very soon able--rather to her own disappointment--to do without morphine at night; and when, a few days later, Mona read the last page of the novel, Lucy was lying in a healthy natural sleep. Mona stole out of the room, listened outside the door for a minute or two, and then ran down-stairs. "I hope you are going out?" said Mr Reynolds, looking up from his _Guardian_. "You have been shut up for three or four days now." "Yes; I told Lucy that if she went to sleep I would go for a run. She is to ring as soon as she wakes." "Well, don't hurry back. I expect the child will sleep all the afternoon; and if she does not, she may content herself with the old man's company for an hour or two." "Lucky girl!" said Mona, looking at him affectionately. "I should think 'the old man's company' would more than make up to most people for being ill." Lucy's fellow-students had called regularly to enquire for her, and this Friday morning a bright young girl had come in on her way to the Medical School, at the same moment as Doris Colquhoun. "I only wish I were going with you," Doris had said to her; and Mona had thankfully availed herself of the opportunity so to arrange matters. "I will go and have tea with Doris now," she thought, "and hear all her impressions before their edge has worn off." She set off in high spirits. After all, it was very pleasant to be in London again, especially in this bright cold weather. The shop-windows still had all their old attraction, and she stopped every few minutes to look at the new winter fads and fashions, wondering what pretty things it would be well to take back to Borrowness; for Rachel had reluctantly consented to the investment of a few pounds in fresh stock-in-trade. "Whatever I buy will be hideously out of keeping with everything else," thought Mona; "but a shop ought to be a shop before it professes to be a work of art. At present it is what Dr Dudley would call 'neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor guid red herrin'.'" She had taken the measure of her _clientèle_ at Borrowness pretty correctly, and she had a very good idea what things would appeal to their fancy, without offending her own somewhat fastidious taste; but she took as much pride in making the most of those pounds as if her own bread and cheese had depended on it. "We will do nothing hastily, my dear," she said to herself. "We will exhaust all the possibilities before we commit ourselves to the extent of one shilling. Oh dear, I am glad I have not to go to the School after all! I am in no mood for fencing."