"Yes. His wife sent for me. As you may suppose, she would not have done so for nothing." "What's the matter?" "I don't like his state at all. He took no notice of me, but lay on his bed, muttering to himself. I think he's a little touched here;" and the doctor put a finger just under the brim of his well-brushed hat. "Poor chap!" said Dale. "I should like to go and see him." Spink discouraged any such idea. "You're the very last person he ought to see. I want him to go away." "Has he got any money?" "Yes, I think so. His wife told me he had now." "And won't he go?" "He says he must stay till after the 15th"--the 15th was the great day--"and then he will go. That's the only word I could get out of him. I told his wife to let me know at once if there was any change for the worse." "It's hard on her, poor little woman," said Dale, passing on his way. He found Tora Smith and Sir Harry at the Grange. Rather to his surprise, Tora greeted him with friendly cordiality, accepting his congratulations very pleasantly. He had expected her to show some resentment at his refusal to write a song for her, but in Tora's mind songs and poets, Liberal meetings, and even royal visits, had been, for the time at least, relegated to a distant background of entire unimportance. Captain Ripley was there also, with the ill-used air that he could not conceal, although he was conscious that it only aggravated his bad fortune. He took his leave a very few minutes after Dale arrived; for what pleasure was there in looking on while everybody purred over Dale, and told him his ode was the most magnificent tribute ever paid to a youthful Prince? Dale, in his heart, thought the same,--so does a man love what he creates,--but he bore his compliments with a graceful outward modesty. The afternoon was so unseasonably fine--such was the reason given--that Janet and he found themselves walking in the garden, she talking merrily of their preparations, he watching her fine, clear-cut profile, and, as she turned to him in talk, the gay dancing of her eyes. "Your doing it," she said, "just makes the whole thing perfect. How can we thank you enough, Mr. Bannister?" "The Captain did not seem to care about my verses," Dale remarked, with a smile. Janet blushed a little, and gave him a sudden glance--a glance that was a whole book of confidences, telling what she never could have told in words, what she never would have told at all, did not the eyes sometimes outrun their mandate and speak unbidden of the brain. Dale smiled again--this time in triumph. "You like them?" he asked softly, caressing the little words with his musical, lingering tones. "Oh, yes, yes," she said, looking at him once more for a moment, and then hastily away. "I'll write you a volume twice as good, if--I may." "Twice as good?" she echoed, with a laugh. "Now, honestly, don't you think these perfect yourself?"