He refused to commit himself to any opinion as to the original
strength and magnitude of Miss Quincey's brain; he could only assure her
that the most powerful intellect in the world would break down if you
kept it perpetually doing sums in arithmetic. It was the monotony of the
thing, you see; year after year Miss Quincey had been ploughing up the
same little patch of brain. No, certainly _not_--she mustn't think of
going back to St. Sidwell's for another three months.
Three months! Impossible! It was a whole term.
Dr. Cautley scowled horribly and said that if she was ever to be fit for
cube-root and decimals again, she positively and absolutely _must_.
Whereupon Miss Quincey gave way to emotion.
To leave St. Sidwell's, abandon her post for three months, she who had
never been absent for a day! If she did that it would be all up with Miss
Quincey; a hundred eager applicants were ready to fill her empty place.
It was as if she heard the hungry, leaping pack behind her, the strong
young animals trained for the chase; they came tearing on the scent,
hunting her, treading her down.
When Rhoda Vivian looked in after morning school, she found a flushed and
embarrassed young man trying to soothe Miss Quincey, who paid not the
least attention to him; she seemed to have shrunk into her bed, and lay
there staring with dilated eyes like a hare crouched flat and trembling
in her form.
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