Bosey had already explained Madame’s symptoms to the Doctor, and he said he would send or bring over a preparation which Madame Solisainte must take night and morning till he saw fit to alter or discontinue it. Then he glanced at the magazines, while he and the girl engaged in a lively conversation across Madame’s chair. His eyes sparkled with animation as he looked at Bosey, as fresh and sweet in her pink dimity gown as one of the flowers there on the table.
He came very often, and Madame grew sick with apprehension and uncertainty, unable to distinguish between his professional and social visits. At first she refused to take his medicine until Bosey stood over her one evening with a spoonful, gently but firmly expressing a determination to stand there till morning, if necessary, and Madame consented to swallow the mixture. The Doctor took Bosey out driving in his new buggy behind two fast trotters. The first time, after she had driven away, Madam Félicie charged Dimple to go into Miss Bosey’s room and search everywhere for the bag of keys. But they were not to be found.
“She mus’ kiard ‘em wid ‘er. She all time got ‘em twis’ roun’ ‘er arm. I believe she sleep wid’ ‘em twis’ roun’ ‘er arm,” offered Dimple in explanation of her failure.
Unable to find the keys, she turned to examining the young girl’s dainty belongings – such as were not under lock. She crept back into Madame Félicie’s room, carrying a lace-filled parasol which she silently held out for Madame’s inspection. The lace was simple and inexpensive, but the old woman shuddered at sight of it as if it had been the rarest of d’Alençon.
Perceiving the impression created by the gay sunshade, Dimple next brought in a pair of slippers with spangled toes, a fine pair of stockings that hung on the back of a chair, an embroidered petticoat, and finally a silk waist. She brought the articles one by one, with a certain solemnity rendered doubly impressive by her silence.
