“_Exaggerate!_” said Dolly, jumping up with all his youthful vigour, and looking for the moment less than forty-eight in his excitement, “Why man alive, he was wearing a huge great Easter Lily in his buttonhole, and he tried to wrestle with the butler in the hall!” “Yes, but you know,” said Edward, “there’s gaiety in everybody, and it comes out now and----” “Oh gaiety be blasted!” interrupted Dolly. “The man was raving!” “Well, they wouldn’t certify him anyhow,” said Edward, “and he’s not raving _now_! He’s as sane as a waxen image, and as sharp as an unexpected pin. I’m glad _I’m_ not doing business with him to-day.” “Look here,” protested the Prime Minister. “If he wasn’t off, why did he stay at home like a prisoner all Wednesday, with Lady Repton preventing any one seeing him? And what was he doing all yesterday, Thursday? Why didn’t he come down to the House, eh, if he wasn’t off?” “I didn’t say he wasn’t ill,” said Edward blandly. “I only said there might have been some exaggeration.” “Oh very well,” ended the Prime Minister wearily, “oh very well!” Edward came to a swift decision and telephoned first to the _Moon_ then to the _Capon_ privately that “it was all right about Repton; there’d been a mistake.” His chief went out on the duties of the day. Yet _another_ change of plan! More bother! He would have to go through with the peerage now! He went gloomily down to the House of Commons and learned that Charles Repton was already in his place, stiff, groomed and regular upon the Treasury bench. Dolly came in nervously and shook hands with him. Sir Charles took his hand rather coldly; he did not see why a couple of days’ headache which no one had heard about should be made the excuse for so much public affection. It emphasised the thing. And he sat through the first hour of the debate looking as if he would have been just as well pleased to be made less fuss about. “Anyhow,” he thought to himself by way of consolation, “I shall be rid of it next week,” and his mind turned in an equable fashion to his taking his seat in the Upper House and to what his first business there might be. As he was so thinking George Mulross Demaine came in quietly by one of the side doors. As he entered there was a little subdued cheering from those who remembered the announcement of his approaching appointment. It flurried him a little. He sat down and tried to forget it, while the debate maundered on. In the Lobbies Repton continued to suffer somewhat from occasional congratulations on his return to health. He did not easily understand them, and he was a trifle gruff in his replies. He was going into the library for a little peace when a messenger put a note into his hand; it was from the Duke of Battersea. “More fuss!” he thought, but he went immediately with his stiff, upright gait to where that great Financier was waiting for him, and he greeted him warmly enough.