ded quickly, and as if defensively. Then he
added: 'Is mother wrong again?'

Mrs. Knight had a recurrent 'complaint.'

'Well,' said Aunt Annie darkly, 'I thought it would be as well to be on
the safe side....'

'Certainly,' said Henry.

This was Aunt Annie's neat contribution to the necessary prevarication.

They had tea and ham-and-eggs, the latter specially chosen because it
was a dish that Henry doted upon. However, he ate but little.

'You're overtired, dear,' his mother ventured.

'Overtired or not, mater,' said Henry with a touch of irony, 'I must do
some work to-night. Sir George has asked me to----'

'My dear love,' Mrs. Knight cried out, moved, 'you've no right----'

But Aunt Annie quelled the impulsive creature with a glance full of
meaning. 'Sir George what?' she asked, politely interested.

'The governor has asked me to look through his Christmas appeal for the
Clerks' Society, and to suggest any alterations that occur to me.'

It became apparent to the ladies, for the thousand and first time, that
Sir George would be helpless without Henry, utterly helpless.

After tea the table was cleared, and Henry opened his bag and rustled
papers, and the ladies knitted and sewed with extraordinary precautions
to maintain the silence which was the necessary environment of Henry's
labours. And in the calm and sane domestic interior, under the mild ray
of the evening lamp, the sole sounds were Henry's dry, hacking cough and
the cornet-like blasts of his nose into his cambric handkerchief.

'I think I'll do no more to-night,' he said at length, yawning.

'That's right, dear,' his mother ejaculated.

Then the doctor entered, and, for all the world as if by preconcerted
action, the ladies disappeared. Dr. Dancer was on friendly terms with
the household, and, his age being thirty, he was neither too old nor too
young to address Henry as Old Man.

'Hallo, old man,' he began, after staring hard at Henry. 'What's the
matter with your forehead?'

'Forehead?' Henry repeated questioningly.

'Yes. Let's have a look.'

The examination was thorough, and it ended with the thrusting of a
thermometer into Henry's unwilling mouth.

'One hundred and two,' said the doctor, and, smiling faintly, he
whispered something to Henry.

'You're joking,' Henry replied, aghast.

'No, I'm not. Of course it's not serious. But it means bed for a
fortnight or so, and you must go immediately.'

The ladies, who had obviously and