He called to see her the next day, and the next. But his visits did not seem like professional ones. There was nothing said about medicine or symptoms. He only asked her about school and the good times she had been having, and the extra studying she had been doing. Then he sat and joked and talked with her and her mother, as had been his habit ever since Lloyd could remember. The third afternoon she was down in the drawing-room when he came. "We'll soon be having Miss Holly-berry back again," he said, playfully pinching her pale cheek. "And without taking any nasty old medicine," she answered. "I don't mind doctahs when they can cure people without giving them pills and powdahs." The Colonel looked up sharply. "What's that?" he asked. "Haven't you been giving her anything, Dick? It seems to me the child would get along faster if she had a good tonic." "I am going to prescribe one this morning," the doctor answered. "That's what I came up for." He laughed at the look of disgust on Lloyd's face. "It isn't bad," he assured her, with an indulgent smile. "Why, I know dozens of girls who would say that the tonic I am going to prescribe is the most agreeable that could be given. I've even had them beg for it. This is it, simply to lengthen your Christmas vacation. Didn't I hear a certain young lady wishing the other night that she could stretch hers out indefinitely?" Lloyd's dimples deepened. "How much longah will you make it? A week? If I stay out much longah than that, it will be such hah'd work to catch up with my classes that the game won't be worth the candle." "But I would make it so long that there would be no necessity of having to catch up, as you call it. You could simply make a fresh start in a new class." Lloyd looked up in alarm. "When?" she demanded. "Um--well, next fall, let us say," he answered, deliberately. "Yes, surely by that time you'll be well and sound as a new dollar." "Next fall!" she gasped, her face growing white and her eyes strangely big and dark. "You don't mean--you _couldn't_ mean that I must leave school." "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. You are overtaxing yourself and must stop--" "Oh, I can't!" interrupted Lloyd, speaking very fast. "I _won't_! It's cruel to ask it when I've worked so hard to keep from falling behind Betty and the girls. Oh, you don't _know_ what it means to me!" The old doctor looked up in amazement at this unexpected outburst. "No," he answered, slowly, after a moment's silence. "I don't suppose I do. I had no idea it would be a disappointment to you. I would gladly save you from it if I could. But listen to me, my little girl, and try to be reasonable. You are on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Nothing can mean as much to you as your health. What will keeping up with the other girls amount to if the strain and the overtaxing makes an invalid of you for life, perhaps?