For the last few days Bruce had been greatly depressed, his temper more variable than ever, and he had managed to collect a quite extraordinary number of entirely new imaginary illnesses. He was very capricious about them and never carried one completely through, but abandoned it almost as soon as he had proved to Edith that he really had the symptoms. Until she was convinced he never gave it up; but the moment she appeared suitably anxious about one disease he adopted another. She had no doubt that he would continue to ring the changes on varieties of ill-health until he had to some extent recovered from the black ingratitude, as he considered it, of Mitchell, in (what he called) hounding him out of the amateur theatricals, and not letting him play the part of one line at which he had slaved night and day. One evening he came home in quite a different mood, bright and cheerful. He played with Archie, and looked in the glass a good deal; both of which signs Edith recognised as hopeful. 'How is your temperature tonight, do you think?' she asked tentatively. 'Oh, I don't know. I can't worry about that. A rather gratifying thing has happened today, in fact, very gratifying.' He smiled. 'Really? You must tell me about it.' 'However badly a chap behaves--still, when he's really sorry--I mean to say when he climbs down and begs your pardon, positively crawls at your feet, you can't hold out, Edith!' 'Of course not. Then did Mitchell--' 'And when you have known a fellow a good many years, and he has always been fairly decent to you except in the one instance--and when he is in a real difficulty--Oh, hang it! One is glad to do what one can.' 'Do I gather that there has been a touching scene between you and Mitchell at the office?' He glanced at her suspiciously. 'May I ask if you are laughing?' 'Oh, no, no! I was smiling with pleasure, hoping you had made it up.' 'Well, yes, it may be weak of me, but I couldn't see the poor fellow's scheme absolutely ruined without lending a helping hand. I have got my share of proper pride, as you know, Edith, but, after all, one has a heart.' 'What did he do?' 'Do!' exclaimed Bruce triumphantly. 'Do! Only apologised--only begged me to act with them again--only said that the piece was nothing without me, that's all! So I forgave him, and he was jolly grateful, I can tell you.' 'Fancy! Is it the same part?' 'Of course not. Didn't I tell you that the fancy ball in the second act has been cut out, so of course they don't want a mandarin. No; but Frank Luscombe has given up his part--chucked it, and they have asked me to take it.' 'Is it as long as the other one?'