erself,
having been in the first production of "Florodora," though, unlike
everybody else, not one of the original Sextette. "Mr. Faucitt was down
to see a rehearsal, and he said Miss Doland was fine. And he's not easy
to please, as you know."

"How is Mr. Faucitt?"

Mrs. Meecher, not unwillingly, for she was a woman who enjoyed the
tragedies of life, made her second essay in the direction of lowering
Sally's uplifted mood.

"Poor old gentleman, he ain't over and above well. Went to bed early
last night with a headache, and this morning I been to see him and he
don't look well. There's a lot of this Spanish influenza about. It might
be that. Lots o' people have been dying of it, if you believe what you
see in the papers," said Mrs. Meecher buoyantly.

"Good gracious! You don't think...?"

"Well, he ain't turned black," admitted Mrs. Meecher with regret. "They
say they turn black. If you believe what you see in the papers, that is.
Of course, that may come later," she added with the air of one confident
that all will come right in the future. "The doctor'll be in to see him
pretty soon. He's quite happy. Toto's sitting with him."

Sally's concern increased. Like everyone who had ever spent any length
of time in the house, she had strong views on Toto. This quadruped, who
stained the fame of the entire canine race by posing as a dog, was a
small woolly animal with a persistent and penetrating yap, hard to bear
with equanimity in health and certainly quite outside the range of a
sick man. Her heart bled for Mr. Faucitt. Mrs. Meecher, on the other
hand, who held a faith in her little pet's amiability and power to
soothe which seven years' close association had been unable to shake,
seemed to feel that, with Toto on the spot, all that could be done had
been done as far as pampering the invalid was concerned.

"I must go up and see him," cried Sally. "Poor old dear."

"Sure. You know his room. You can hear Toto talking to him now," said
Mrs. Meecher complacently. "He wants a cracker, that's what he wants.
Toto likes a cracker after breakfast."

The invalid's eyes, as Sally entered the room, turned wearily to the
door. At the sight of Sally they lit up with an incredulous rapture.
Almost any intervention would have pleased Mr. Faucitt at that moment,
for his little playmate had long outstayed any welcome that might
originally have been his: but that the caller should be his beloved
Sally seemed to the old man someth