"That's just my opinion," laconically replied Jan. "Only West flares up so, if his treatment is called in question. I'd get him well in half the time." Lionel wearily changed his position on the sofa. The getting well, or the keeping ill, did not appear to interest him greatly. "Let's look at his medicine, Decima," continued Jan. "I have not seen what has come round lately." Decima left the room and brought back a bottle with some medicine in it. "There's only one dose left," she remarked to Jan. Jan took the cork out and smelt it; then he tasted it, apparently with great gusto, as anybody else might taste port wine; while Lucy watched him, drawing her lips away from her pretty teeth in distaste at the proceeding. "Psha!" cried Jan. "Is it not proper medicine for him?" asked Decima. "It's as innocent as water," said Jan. "It'll do him neither good nor harm." And finally Jan poured the lot down his own throat. Lucy shuddered. "Oh, Jan, how could you take it?" "It won't hurt me," said literal Jan. "But it must be so nasty! I never could have believed any one would willingly drink medicine. It is bad enough to do it when compelled by sickness." "Law!" returned Jan. "If you call this nasty, Miss Lucy, you should taste some of our physic. The smell would about knock you down." "I think nothing is worse than the smell of drugs," resumed Lucy. "The other day, when Lady Verner called in at your surgery to speak to you, and took me with her, I was glad to get into the open air again." "Don't you ever marry a doctor, then, Miss Lucy." "I am not going to marry one," returned Lucy. "Well, you need not look so fierce," cried Jan. "I didn't ask you." Lucy laughed. "Did I look fierce, Jan? I suppose I was thinking of the drugs. I'd never, never be a surgeon, of all things in the world." "If everybody was of your mind, Miss Lucy, how would people get doctored?" "Very true," answered Lucy. "But I don't envy them." "The doctors or the people?" asked Jan. "I meant the doctors. But I envy the patients less," glancing involuntarily towards Lionel as she spoke. Jan glanced at him too. "Lionel, I'll bring you round some better stuff than this," said he. "What are you eating?" "Nothing," put in Decima. "Dr. West keeps him upon arrowroot and beef-tea, and such things." "Slops," said Jan contemptuously. "Have a fowl cooked every day, Lionel, and eat it all, if you like, bones and all; or a mutton--chop or two; or some good eels. And have the window open and sit at it; don't lounge on that sofa, fancying you can't leave it; and to-morrow or the next day, borrow Mrs. Verner's carriage----" "No, thank you," interposed Lionel. "Have a fly, then," composedly went on Jan. "Rouse yourself, and eat and drink, and go into the air, and you'll soon be as well as I am. It's the stewing and fretting indoors, fancying themselves ill, that keeps folks back."