"I must say," she continued, "I have _never_ met a child so averse from
being kissed or being made a fuss of--she _hates_ anyone to touch her,
even--even _me_, her _mother_, as you might say; but they say she is
tractable, and has never been known to lose her temper, or slap, or
scratch, as some children do--no! there is _really_ nothing to tell
about her--of course she walks a bit in her sleep, at least so her
Nannie says!"

The specialist's hand crashed on the table. "Good God, woman!" he
flung at her, "what in heaven's name _are_ you modern women made of?
How long has she been walking in her sleep? Tell me all you know _at
once_--and remember it's your niece's _brain_ and her future you are
talking about, so try and describe this sleep-walking with as much
interest and regard to detail as you would if you were talking about a
new dress. Why in heaven's name didn't you send her with the
nurse--the _servant_--instead of coming yourself--I might have learnt
something about the child _then_!"

It seemed that Leonie while still quite a baby had walked about the
night nursery in her sleep; that she had been found in the day nursery
and on the lower landing, but had always gone back to bed without
waking; that she muttered a lot of rubbish which the nurse could not
understand, and was always very tired next day. That now that she was
older she slept in a room by herself as she became unaccountably
restless and wide awake if anyone slept in the room with her. No! the
nurse had never noticed the hour or the date, or anything, and that was
really all, and "couldn't you give the child a dose of bromide."

Which sentence served to finish the history and to bring Sir Jonathan
with a bound from his chair.