"Then she ought to look more cheerful. Come here, Miss Jane: your name is Jane, is it not?"

     "Yes, sir, Jane Eyre."

     "Well, you have been crying, Miss Jane Eyre; can you tell me what about? Have you any pain?"

     "No, sir."

     "Oh! I daresay she is crying because she could not go out with Missis in the carriage," interposed Bessie.

     "Surely not! why, she is too old for such pettishness."

     I thought so too; and my self-esteem being wounded by the false charge, I answered promptly, "I never cried for such a thing in my life: I hate going out in the carriage. I cry because I am miserable."

     "Oh fie, Miss!" said Bessie.

     The good apothecary appeared a little puzzled. I was standing before him; he fixed his eyes on me very steadily: his eyes were small and grey; not very bright, but I dare say I should think them shrewd now: he had a hard-featured yet good-natured looking face. Having considered me at leisure, he said--

     "What made you ill yesterday?"