“We should like to hear you talk longer about it,” said the English Annex.  “One of us has thought of devoting herself to the practice of medicine.  Would you lecture to us; if you were a professor in one of the great medical schools?”

“Lecture to students of your sex?  Why not, I should like to know?  I don’t think it is the calling for which the average woman is especially adapted, but my teacher got a part of his medical education from a lady, Madame Lachapelle; and I don’t see why, if one can learn from a woman, he may not teach a woman, if he knows enough.”

“We all like a little medical talk now and then,” said Number Five, “and we are much obliged to you for your discourse.  You are specialist enough to take care of a sprained ankle, I suppose, are you not?”

“I hope I should be equal to that emergency,” answered the young Doctor; “but I trust you are not suffering from any such accident?”

“No,” said Number Five, “but there is no telling what may happen.  I might slip, and get a sprain or break a sinew, or something, and I should like to know that there is a practitioner at hand to take care of my injury.  I think I would risk myself in your bands, although you are not a specialist.  Would you venture to take charge of the case?”

“Ah, my dear lady,” he answered gallantly, “the risk would be in the other direction.  I am afraid it would be safer for your doctor if he were an older man than I am.”

This is the first clearly, indisputably sentimental outbreak which has happened in conversation at our table.  I tremble to think what will come of it; for we have several inflammable elements in our circle, and a spark like this is liable to light on any one or two of them.

I was not sorry that this medical episode came in to vary the usual course of talk at our table.  I like to have one—­of an intelligent company, who knows anything thoroughly, hold the floor for a time, and discourse upon the subject which chiefly engages his daily thoughts and furnishes his habitual occupation.  It is a privilege to meet such a person now and then, and let him have his full swing.  But because there are “professionals” to whom we are willing to listen as oracles, I do not want to see everybody who is not a “professional” silenced or snubbed, if he ventures into any field of knowledge which he has not made especially his own.  I like to read Montaigne’s remarks about doctors, though he never took a medical degree.  I can even enjoy the truth in the sharp satire of Voltaire on the medical profession.  I frequently prefer the remarks I hear from the pew after the sermon to those I have just been hearing from the pulpit.  There are a great many things which I never expect to comprehend, but which I desire very much to apprehend.  Suppose that our circle of Teacups were made up of specialists,—­experts in various departments.  I should be very willing that each one should have his innings at the proper time, when the company were