It--I take pleasure in it, and find the exercise
beneficial. But Vesta is entirely unfit for it, as I have repeatedly
pointed out to her. She persists--" the little lady paused for breath.
The young doctor took the cloth from the girl's hand, and opened the
door.
"You would better go and lie down, Miss Blyth," he said, abruptly.
"I'll see to this--" he said "tomfoolery," but not aloud.
The colour crept into Vesta's white cheeks, the first he had seen
there. "I don't want to lie down, thank you!" she said, coldly.
"Give me the cloth, please!"
Their eyes measured swords for an instant. Then--
"You can hardly stand now," said Geoffrey, quietly. "If you faint I
shall have to carry you up-stairs, and that--"
She was gone, but he still saw her face like a white flame. He
looked after her a moment, then turned to Miss Vesta, who was still
on her knees. His look of annoyance changed to one of distress.
"Dear Miss Vesta, will you please get up this moment? What can you
be doing? Are you praying to Saint Beeswax?"
"Oh, no, Doctor Strong. We never--the Orthodox Church--but you are
jesting, my dear young friend. I--a little healthful exercise--oh,
please, Doctor Geoffrey!"
For two strong hands lifted her bodily, and set her down in her own
particular armchair. "Exercise is recommended for me," said the
little lady, piteously.
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