Now, I intend to try my way for a year, and if at the end of it she is not in better trim than now, I'll give up the case, and hand her over to someone else.

That's fair, I think." "She will not be here a year hence, poor darling, so no one need dread future responsibility," said Aunt Myra, folding her black gloves as if all ready for the funeral.
"By Jupiter! Myra, you are enough to damp the ardour of a saint!" cried Dr.Alec, with a sudden spark in his eyes.

"Your croaking will worry that child out of her wits, for she is an imaginative puss, and will fret and fancy untold horrors.

You have put it into her head that she has no constitution, and she rather likes the idea.

If she had not had a pretty good one, she would have been 'marked for the tomb' by this time, at the rate you have been going on with her.