It was all very exciting, and now his mother was working morning
and night at the old cottage, to prepare for the arrival of her son.
Such scrubbing and scouring! Such taking up of carpets and laying them
down again, as if the darling old thing were expecting a prince!
"It ought to be Sunny Lodge indeed before she's done with it," said the
Doctor.
"I'm sure it will," I said. "It always was, and it always will be."
"And how are we ourselves," said the doctor. "A little below par, eh?
Any sickness? No? Nausea? No? Headache and a feeling of lassitude, then?
No?"
After other questions and tests, the old doctor was looking puzzled,
when, not finding it in my heart to keep him in the dark any longer, I
told him there was nothing amiss with my health, but I was unhappy and
had been so since the time of my marriage.
"I see," he said. "It's your mind and not your body that is sick?"
"Yes."
"I'll speak to Father Dan," he said. "Good-bye! God bless you!"
Less than half an hour after he had gone, Alma came to me in her softest
mode, saying the doctor had said I was suffering from extreme nervous
exhaustion and ought to be kept from worries and anxieties of every
kind.
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