TWO weeks elapsed before Mrs. Ogden would consent to any further examination of Milly's lungs. At first she refused on the ground that Milly was only in need of rest, and when Joan persisted, made other excuses, all equally futile. She seemed determined to prevent Doctor Thomas's visit, and it struck Joan that her mother was secretly afraid. Doctor Thomas was getting old. He had attended the Ogdens as long as Joan could remember. He attended most of the residents of Seabourne, though it was said that the summer visitors preferred a younger man, who had recently made his appearance. Joan herself would have preferred the younger man, but on this point Mrs. Ogden was obdurate; she would not hear of a stranger being called in, protesting that Doctor Thomas would be deeply hurt. Doctor Thomas came, and rubbed his cold hands briskly together; he smiled at the assembled family as he had smiled on all serious occasions throughout his career. A wooden stethoscope protruded from his tail-pocket; he took it out and balanced it playfully between finger and thumb. "Let _me_ explain," said Joan peremptorily, as Mrs. Ogden opened her lips to speak. She had to raise her voice somewhat, for the doctor was a little hard of hearing. "Eh, what? What was that?" he inquired from time to time. Milly's lip curled. She shrugged her shoulders and complied with an ill grace when told to remove her blouse. "Take a deep breath." Doctor Thomas pressed his stethoscope to her chest and back; he pressed so hard with his large, purplish ear that the stethoscope dug into her bones. "Ow! That hurts," she protested peevishly. "Say 'ninety-nine'!" "Ninety-nine." "Again, please." "Ninety-nine." "Again." "Oh! Ninety-nine, ninety-nine, ninety-nine!" For a young woman about to be twenty-one years old, Milly was behaving in an extraordinarily childish manner. The doctor looked at her reproachfully and began tapping on her back and chest with his notched and bony fingers. Tap, tap, tap, tap: Milly glanced down at his hand distastefully. "And now say 'ninety-nine' again," he suggested. Milly flushed with irritation and coughed. "Ninety-nine," she exclaimed in an exasperated voice. The old doctor straightened himself and looked round complacently. "Just as I thought, there's nothing seriously wrong here." "Then you don't think----?" began Joan, but her mother interrupted. "That's just what I thought you'd say, Doctor Thomas; I felt sure there could be nothing radically wrong with Milly's lungs. Thank God, she comes from very healthy stock! I suppose a good long rest is all that she needs?" "Exactly, Mrs. Ogden. A good rest, good food, and plenty of air; and no more practising for a bit, Miss Milly. You must keep your shoulders back and your chest well out, and just take things easy." "But for how long?" Milly asked, with a catch in her voice. "How long? Oh, for a few months at least."