Doctor's Orders by Eleanor Farnes Page A

had no idea you were coming today,” said Diana, “or I would have waited in for you. I do hope you haven’t had to wait long.”
    “I did not come to see you and Anthea,” he said. “I called upon my very old friend, Madame de Luzy; and as I am here, I cannot go without seeing how my patient is getting on. Does she feel the benefit of the mountain air?”
    “Well, you know, that is something that I should like to discuss with you, Dr. Frederic.”
    “Then let us come into the small room, and we can talk in private.”
    He was obviously quite at home in this place. He led Diana into a small sitting room. The Morgenberg, in common with many hotels on the Continent, especially those which dealt chiefly with their own compatriots and not the foreign tourists, did not boast a large lounge. That was something that English people felt the need of, but was not always necessary. The occupants of this hotel sat in the dining room and chatted, or went to their rooms, or met on the long balcony on one side of the building. This was yet another source of annoyance to Anthea. The small sitting room, a concession to people who must have such a thing, was very comfortable but had the rather desolate air of rooms that were little used.
    “Now,” said the doctor, “what is it you wish to discuss?”
    “Whether it was a wise move to bring Anthea to this place. I do not wish, of course, to seem to question your advice. As far as her bodily health goes, I am sure it was the best. But she is so utterly bored, so desperately bored. She is really unhappy here. She cannot settle to anything; she does not like to read, or to walk. She can only talk to the people who speak English, and not all of them do. She seems so out of place and so miserable that I really wonder whether it is a good thing to keep her here?”
    “Is it possible,” asked Dr. Frederic, looking at Diana in a reflective way, “that a young woman can really have so few resources?”
    “Only too possible, I’m afraid,” replied Diana.
    “And is it possible that, after such expensive schools and language mistresses, she cannot make conversation in any language but her own?”
    “That’s only too possible also,” Diana told him.
    “What a waste,” he said, shaking his head. “But if she is as miserable as you say, then perhaps a move would be advisable. If, however, her health has benefited, and I think it would benefit yet more from a prolonged stay, then I think she should stay, bored or not. Has she no hobbies, nothing to occupy her?”
    “Apparently not.”
    “Well, I will see her, and make an examination first.”
    Diana went away to find Anthea, and went unsuccessfully from point to point. Anthea, on a different route, returned to the hotel while Diana was searching, and met Dr. Frederic herself. They began to talk. Dr. Frederic had been a little surprised to hear that Diana spoke of Anthea as if she did not know her very well—he had imagined them old friends. If not, why had Diana accompanied such a wilful, and possibly disagreeable young woman across Europe?
    “Miss Pevrill tells me you are not happy here,” the doctor said, after preliminary greetings had been exchanged.
    “Well, it’s rather a dull hole, isn’t it?” asked Anthea, but automatically bringing forth a charming smile, reacting to the most handsome man she had seen for more than a week.
    “I think it a very beautiful place,” he said. “But your friend tells me you are desperately bored.”
    “Perhaps she’s bored,” suggested Anthea mischievously. “I wondered how long she would stand it.”
    This was a new point of view for the doctor. Indeed, he thought, it is just as probable that she is bored, as that this one should be. He said:
    “If I find that you are no better here, perhaps arrangements can be made for you to move; but if your health has improved, I think you should stay here—at least, to give it a longer trial. Will you agree to that?”
    Anthea shrugged her