with them but turn them into sums. And as all this was very confusing to
the intellect Miss Quincey became crosser than ever. And while Miss
Quincey quivered all over with irritability, the Mad Hatter paid no heed
whatever to her instructions, but thrust forward a small yellow face that
was all nose and eyes, and gazed at Miss Quincey like one possessed by a
spirit of divination.

"Have you got a headache, Miss Quincey?" she inquired on hearing herself
addressed for the third time as "Stupid child!"

Miss Quincey relied tartly that no, she had not got a headache. The Mad
Hatter appeared to be absorbed in tracing rude verses on her rough
notebook with a paralytic pencil.

"I'm sorry; because then you must be unhappy. When people are cross," she
continued, "it means one of two things. Either their heads ache or they
are unhappy. You must be very unhappy. I know all about it." The
paralytic pencil wavered and came to a full stop. "You like somebody, and
so somebody has made you unhappy."

But for the shame of it, Miss Quincey could have put her head down on the
desk and cried as she had seen the Mad Hatter cry over her sums, and for
the same reason; because she could not put two and two together.

And what Mrs. Moon saw, what Martha saw, what the Mad Hatter divined with
her feverish, precocious brain, Rhoda Vivian could not fail to see. It
was Dr. Cautley's business to look after Miss Quincey in her illness, and
it was Rhoda's to keep an eye on her in her recovery, and instantly
report the slightest threatening of a break-down. Miss Quincey's somewhat
eccentric behaviour filled her with misgivings; and in order to