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HER NERVOUS PROSTRATION
not more than three out of the fourteen waking hours.
Swinging in a hammock in a shady nook this afternoon the conversation that floated to me under my distant tree was somewhat after this fashion.
Mrs. A. “Once I had neurasthenia. For three months I couldn’t be moved in bed, and for nine weeks I could n’t turn my head on the pillow.”
| Mrs. B. | “Mercy!” | |
| Mrs. C. | “Oh, Mrs. A.!” | |
| Mrs. D. | “Good gracious!” |
Mrs. E. “Cerebro-spinal meningitis is worse than neurasthenia. I had it four years ago, and the doctor said he’d never seen a woman live that was as ill as I was. One night my temperature was 167.”
| Mrs. C. | Goodness!” | |
| Mrs. B. | “That’s pretty high!” | |
| Mrs. A. | “Are you sure?” |
Mrs. E. “Yes, I’m perfectly sure, or at least I think I am; I am seldom wrong on figures.”
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