It seemed almost droll——droll enough, at any rate, to interest my mind, and I would say funny things to the others to make them laugh, and this seemed to make them try to be cheerful and to cheer me on. The third day, I remember that I ate the same kind of a breakfast——just a little——and at night asked them to boil a beet! I would have only one vegetable at a time, lest I might be tempted to overeat and lose my appetite, and so spoil everything.[35] I was impressed with the idea of ‘earning my living’ at outdoor work——‘by the sweat of my brow’——and not to eat more than I earned by the exercise. I had renounced my coffee and tea; I ate no grease of any kind, nor meat——bread, fruit, and vegetables only——no salt or spices, pastry, pie, puddings, nor cake, nor ‘sweets’ of any sort, except the natural, _whole_ sweet furnished by nature, in the form of vegetables and sweet fruits. The prescription said that some people ate too much soft food,——bread and milk, puddings, and the like,——and that while such dishes were better than many others in common use, still they were not the best, especially for sick people with weak stomachs, but that dry (farinaceous) food was every way better; and so I ate bread, or unleavened biscuit, which, after a little practice, the girl could make very nice,——just the meal and water well mixed and moulded stiff and baked in a hot oven,——and I ate them very slowly, chewing each mouthful thoroughly. You can tell, perhaps, doctor, just why this should make a difference:[36] I only know that it seemed to agree with my stomach better. They bathed me every morning in the same way, only after a while they did not have to work so slowly and cautiously. I could exercise more and more, from day to day, and with less and less fatigue, and I laughed to myself that father’s joke would prove something more than a joke; I was bound to undo all his nice work; and I knew he wouldn’t care, so that I could get well. After a while I could raise myself up and sit erect, and dig a little, first on one side and then on the other; and by the time my ‘six weeks’ were up——and I told father so one day——I could dig a pretty good grave for myself, if they wanted to bury me; only, it wouldn’t be quite deep enough to hold me down——for I had actually raised myself to my feet, stood alone, and walked a few steps without help. On the eighth week I could walk about——would walk off a dozen steps, come back, sit down——perhaps lie down. The more I did, the more I could do——always taking care not to exhaust myself——and the more I could eat; but I took even more care not to overeat than not to overwork: I found that the real thing was to eat little enough——not to see how much I could eat——so that I could increase the amount regularly, rather than to lose my appetite and eat nothing some days, or eat without an appetite, and next day eat enormously, perhaps, as mother used to; I wouldn’t have them ‘fix up’ anything——I was afraid of being put back.