There was a new treatment
which, within his own experience, had had excellent results. It was not
a certainty; it was very far from a certainty, but it was a chance, and
it had this merit, that a month or six weeks would prove its efficacy in
any special case. If this failed, something else must be tried, but
most cures were very long, very costly. He would propose in the first
instance giving two injections a week; later on three or even four.
There might be a certain amount of reaction.

"What do you mean by reaction?" Sophie asked.

"Fever, headache. Possibly sickness, but not lasting for more than
twenty-four hours."

Sophie set her lips.

"I have no time to be ill!"

The doctor looked at her with deliberate sternness.

"You will have all your life to be ill, if you do not take care now! I
will do what I can to help you; we will arrange the times most
convenient to you. You might come to me at first direct from school on
Wednesdays and Saturdays. Later on the system will accustom itself, and
you will probably feel no bad effects. I should like to undertake your
case myself. My charge to you will be a quarter of my ordinary fee."

"Thank you very much," stammered Sophie, "but--"

Claire jumped up, and hastily interposed.

"Thank you so very much! We are most grateful, but it's--it's been
rather a shock, and we have not had time to think. Will you allow us to
write and tell you our decision?"

"Certainly. Certainly. But be quick about it. I am anxious to help,
but every week's delay will make the case more difficult. Try to
arrange for Wednesday next."

As he spoke he led the way towards the door. He had been all that was
kind and considerate, but there were other patients waiting; all day
long a procession of sufferers were filing into that room. He had no
more time to give to Sophie Blake. The two girls went out into the
street, got into a taxi and were driven swiftly away. Neither spoke.
They drew up before the door of Sophie's lodgings, entered the cosy
sitting-room and sat down by the fire.

"Well!" Sophie's face was flushed, her eyes were dry and feverishly
bright. "I hope you are satisfied, my dear. I've been to a specialist
to please you, and a most depressing entertainment it has been.
Arthritis! That's the thing people have who go about in Bath chairs,
and have horrible twisted fingers. It was supposed to be incurable, but
now they have `an occasional cure,' so I must