They were both glad of the presence of Mr. Lawson Holmes at the dinner-table that night. He was a man who could converse well on almost any subject, and possessed a good many interests besides that of politics. Moore was, as usual, preoccupied and gloomy, and had shaken hands with Patricia as though she had been a complete stranger. The Countess, who had quietly been called away to see the doctor before the commencement of the meal, was pale and silent, so the two guests had the conversation principally to themselves. When the dessert was reached, however, the Premier suddenly awoke as from a sleep, and fixing his steely eyes on his wife’s face, inquired solemnly for the children. Lady Chesterwood’s eyes fell. “Leslie was a naughty boy this afternoon, and I was obliged to punish him,” she returned quietly. “And Phyllis—Phyllis is not well.” “Not well?” Moore became visibly alarmed. “What is the matter with her? Has the doctor been?” “Yes; he says she has a bad sore throat, and must stay in bed. He suggested moving her to the south wing of the house, because it is warmer there and the aspect sunnier, so we have done so. And he doesn’t think much of Leslie’s old nurse, so he is going to send a trained nurse from the hospital, and perhaps an assistant as well.” She paused, out of breath. “He is coming again to-morrow morning,” she added rapidly, “so you can see him then.” Moore tossed off a glass of wine, and excusing himself, rose from the table. “I shall not wait until to-morrow morning,” he said, in a rough voice. “I shall see him to-night. But I must have a look at the child first. Poor little girl! A sore throat—” and without finishing the sentence he left the room. There was a moment’s silence, and then the Countess also rose. “I suppose I shall have to tell him,” she said, with an interrogative look at her two guests. “The child has a touch of diphtheria; that is why we have thought it best to isolate her at once. It is not serious at present, but of course there is no knowing how it may turn out. I think I had better go up to them, if you will not think me very rude. I am so sorry this should have happened just now; it is so unpleasant. But, of course, one cannot help these things.” “Don’t apologise, dear,” said Patricia kindly. “I will amuse myself in the library until Mr. Holmes has finished his wine. Go to your husband now. I am sure you ought to be with him. It is very unfortunate altogether; I do hope Phyllis will soon be well.” “I should advise you to tell Moore exactly what it is,” advised Holmes, as the ladies passed across the threshold. He knew that to keep the Premier in ignorance of the true nature of the illness would only serve to make matters worse, since he must inevitably find out in the course of two or three hours.