"I caught him just right. He had been up all night, writing a thesis for the University of Berlin on the ’Propagation of Pollen by Differentiation,’ and having finished that, he was beginning to tell his pet parrot how much I resembled that great, red flower he was so fond of, and talking about the evening star which he said was just rising. It was ten o’clock in the morning and I knew at once what had happened. He had begun his thesis the afternoon before, and had become so absorbed that he had worked all night without knowing it, and now thought it was tea time! "I was greatly distressed at the inroads the disease had made in his mind, and I knew I must act with the greatest tact and foresight. He was just telling the parrot all the beautiful things about me and my resemblance to the red flower when I walked in, wearing the flower over my heart. "He gave one look at me and the flower, and that was almost too much for him. He began to mumble something, and then became speechless in his chair. "I was almost heartbroken to see the swift inroads the disease had made on him, poor dear. "’Gott,’ I said gently, sitting down by him, ’you must take a little of this,’ and I made him drink a good stiff toddy. "He drank it, looking bewilderingly around, like the poor inmates of the insane asylum I have seen, and every now and then looking at the red lily and sighing as if in great pain. "At last he spoke. ’Er—Miss—Miss—er’— "’Lucretia,’ I said, smiling encouragingly at him; ’just Lucretia always, dear Gott, between you and me!’ "This would have landed any sensible man, but thirty years of the disease had made Gott abnormal. "Again I saw the color leave his cheek, and his face turn pale. Another good bracer, and he was better. "’As I was just going to remark,’ he said, turning pale again, ’Lu—Lu—Lu—ere—’ he stammered. "’Lucretia,’ I said. ’Of course, Gott, dear heart, dear heart, that is my name—your name for me.’ "He tried to faint again, but the Tennessee whiskey stood staunch. So he threw up his hands with a little happy, pitiful gesture, and again lost his voice! "After awhile I said to him: ’I am going to scold you, dear Gott; I am going to take better care of you. You have been sitting up all night writing and you are tired.’ "’Oh, no,’ he said; ’oh, no. I began to write a few hours ago. It is now tea time. Won’t you take tea with me?’ "Jack, it was pitiful. I thought I’d take him in my arms and kiss him then and there—just make him my own—only I was afraid the shock might kill him! I must do it gradually. So I went on humoring him. ’Sure, Gott, dear, old, precious Gott,’ I said. ’Sure, it is just tea time, and I’m going to sit out on the little porch under the wisteria vine and the stars. Won’t you come with me, precious?’ "Jack, it proved near being fatal. He tried to speak, but had only a kind of a gurgling spasm of a breath, panted violently, and turned red.