tember I hope to be well enough to go back to town, even if I'm not well enough to think of work. What do you advise?"
"I advise you to put away all thoughts of work. That is imperative. Haven't you been at work all your life long? Can't you spare a pitiful little twelve-month to health and idleness and pleasure?"
"Ah, pleasure, pleasure!" said Mason, ironically.
"Yes, pleasure," said the Doctor. "What has she done to you that you should speak of her in that manner?"
"O, she bothers me," said Mason.
"You are very fastidious. It's better to be bothered by pleasure than by pain."
"I don't deny it. But there is a way of being indifferent to pain. I don't mean to say that I have found it out, but in the course of my illness I have caught a glimpse of it. But it's beyond my strength to be indifferent to pleasure. In two words, I'm afraid of dying of kindness."
"O, nonsense!"
"Yes, it's nonsense; and yet it's not. There would be nothing miraculous in my not getting well."
"It will be your fault if you don't. It will prove that you're fonder of sickness than health, and that you're not fit company for sensible mortals. Shall I tell you?" continued the Doctor, after a moment's
