Donalds Homecoming

"Nary one. My life has been one dead, monotonous waste."

"Like ... the deuce it has. Come, I've got just ten minutes to stay;
tell me the whole detailed history of your two years and a half. Knowing
your natural verbosity, I should say that it would take you just about
half that time, which will leave me the balance for my own few remarks."

"Five minutes? I could tell you the whole history of my life in that
time. But, before I start, I want to ask you about my little niece,
Muriel? I've just been reading a letter from Ethel, which seems to
indicate that they are rather worried about her; but, when I called her
by long distance, she either couldn't, or wouldn't tell me anything
definite."

"I don't think that there is any real occasion for being disturbed,"
answered Philip, quietly. "Although I'll confess frankly that things
haven't been going just right, and I'm not sorry to have you back and in
charge of the case. Muriel made the acquaintance of a typhus bug--the
Lord knows how--and, although I succeeded in getting the best of the
fever fairly quickly, thanks to the able assistance of that nurse whom
you swear by ..."

"Miss Merriman?"

"Yes, she's a wonder, isn't she? Well, as I said, we took care of the
fever, all right; but the cerebral affection has been more persistent,
and she hasn't convalesced as you would expect in a twelve-year-old
child. She seems to be laboring under a sort of nervous depression, not
so much physical as mental ... in fact, a psychos. It's common enough in
older people, of course; but hanged if I ever saw anything just like it
in a perfectly normal, and naturally happy child."