Patty did not think it necessary to explain that it was a Welsh-rabbit party on each occasion, so she merely sighed and looked out of the window. "Is your appetite good?" "Yes," said Patty, in a tone which belied the words; "it seems to be very good." "Um-m," said the doctor. "I'm just a little tired," pursued Patty, "but I think I shall be all right as soon as I get a chance to rest. Perhaps I need a tonic," she suggested. "You'd better stay out of classes for a day or two and get thoroughly rested." "Oh, no," said Patty, in evident perturbation. "Our room is so full of girls all the time that it's really more restful to go to classes; and, besides, I can't stay out just now." "Why not?" demanded the doctor, suspiciously. "Well," said Patty, a trifle reluctantly, "I have a good deal to do. I've got to cram for an examination, and--" The word "cram" was to the doctor as a red rag to a bull. "Nonsense!" she ejaculated. "I know what I shall do with you. You are going right over to the infirmary for a few days--" "Oh, doctor!" Patty pleaded, with tears in her eyes, "there's _truly_ nothing the matter with me, and I've _got_ to take that examination." "What examination is it?" "Old English--Miss Skelling." "I will see Miss Skelling myself," said the doctor, "and explain that you cannot take the examination until you come out. And now," she added, making a note of Patty's case, "I will have you put in the convalescent ward, and we will try the rest cure for a few days, and feed you up on chicken-broth and egg-nog, and see if we can get that appetite back." "Thank you," said Patty, with the resigned air of one who has given up struggling against the inevitable. "I like to see you take an interest in your work," added the doctor, kindly; "but you must always remember, my dear, that health is the first consideration." Patty returned to the study and executed an impromptu dance in the middle of the floor. "What's the matter?" exclaimed Priscilla. "Are you crazy?" "No," said Patty; "only ill." And she went into her bedroom and began slinging things into a dress-suit case. Priscilla stood in the doorway and watched her in amazement. "Are you going to New York?" she asked. "No," said Patty; "to the infirmary." "Patty Wyatt, you're a wretched little hypocrite!" "Not at all," said Patty, cheerfully. "I didn't ask to go, but the doctor simply insisted. I told her I had an examination, but she said it didn't make any difference; health must be the first consideration." "What's in that bottle?" demanded Priscilla. "That's for my appetite," said Patty, with a grin; "the doctor hopes to improve it. I didn't like to discourage her, but I don't much believe she can." She dropped an Old English grammar and a copy of "Beowulf" into her suit-case. "They won't let you study," said Priscilla.