She began at the beginning.  “What is the first book you would put in a student’s hands, doctor?” she said to him one day.  They were in his study, and Lurida had just brought back a thick volume on Insanity, one of Bucknill and Puke’s, which she had devoured as if it had been a pamphlet.

“Not that book, certainly,” he said.  “I am afraid it will put all sorts of notions into your head.  Who or what set you to reading that, I should like to know?”

“I found it on one of your shelves, and as I thought I might perhaps be crazy some time or other, I felt as if I should like to know what kind of a condition insanity is.  I don’t believe they were ever very bright, those insane people, most of them.  I hope I am not stupid enough ever to lose my wits.”

“There is no telling, my dear, what may happen if you overwork that busy brain of yours.  But did n’t it make you nervous, reading about so many people possessed with such strange notions?”

“Nervous?  Not a bit.  I could n’t help thinking, though, how many people I had known that had a little touch of craziness about them.  Take that poor woman that says she is Her Majesty’s Person,—­not Her Majesty, but Her Majesty’s Person,—­a very important distinction, according to her:  how she does remind me of more than one girl I have known!  She would let her skirts down so as to make a kind of train, and pile things on her head like a sort of crown, fold her arms and throw her head back, and feel as grand as a queen.  I have seen more than one girl act very much in that way.  Are not most of us a little crazy, doctor,—­just a little?  I think so.  It seems to me I never saw but one girl who was free from every hint of craziness.”

“And who was that, pray?”

“Why, Euthymia,—­nobody else, of course.  She never loses her head,—­I don’t believe she would in an earthquake.  Whenever we were at work with our microscopes at the Institute I always told her that her mind was the only achromatic one I ever looked into,—­I did n’t say looked through.—–­But I did n’t come to talk about that.  I read in one of your books that when Sydenham was asked by a student what books he should read, the great physician said, ‘Read “Don Quixote."’ I want you to explain that to me; and then I want you to tell me what is the first book, according to your idea, that a student ought to read.”

“What do you say to my taking your question as the subject of a paper to be read before the Society?  I think there may be other young ladies at the meeting, besides yourself, who are thinking of pursuing the study of medicine.  At any rate, there are a good many who are interested in the subject; in fact, most people listen readily to anything doctors tell them about their calling.”

“I wish you would, doctor.  I want Euthymia to hear it, and I don’t doubt there will be others who will be glad to hear everything you have to say about it.  But oh, doctor, if you could only persuade Eutbymia to become a physician!  What a doctor she would make!  So strong, so calm, so full of wisdom!  I believe she could take the wheel of a steamboat in a storm, or the hose of a fire-engine in a conflagration, and handle it as well as the captain of the boat or of the fire-company.”