Dr. Denton fed Wiggles cake, and engaged him in loud conversation. I scalded my throat on tea, and promptly dropped the cup. This, at least, created some diversion. Dr. Denton sprang up, scattering Wiggles, cups, napkins, and spoons with equal indifference, and mopped up the deluge. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, in quite an agonized tone. "No," I replied, dripping, "but I have burned my throat most awfully. I'm afraid I shan't be able to talk for quite a while." "May I see?" spoke the physician, with solicitude. I put out my tongue very soberly. Dr. Denton returned hastily to his chair. "You spoke," I suggested, "in your note, of messages." "Did I?" he returned, in a puzzled tone. "It must be my handwriting. No doctor writes intelligibly." This was really too much. I beat with my fist upon the unoffending hammock, and asked, "Has your friend...?" "Gone? Yes, very unfortunately. He had, as I reminded him, a pressing engagement in town. I, myself, took him to the train," concluded the aggravating creature proudly. "How nice of you," I said heartily, "but you must miss him." "Intolerably." The duologue showed symptoms of declining again. Finally, "Did you want to see me?" I asked courteously. "Not particularly," he replied, "but under the white flag, as I suggested, I wanted to make a partial treaty with you, with, of course, your consent." "I am listening," I said cautiously. Suddenly he moved his chair nearer, crossed his legs, and lay back, hands locked across his knees. "Look here," he said, "isn't it time that we declared ourselves in open battle? This guerilla warfare ..." he paused, suggestively, and I waited. "You have made it very plain," he went on, "that you do not like me. Perhaps I am putting it mildly. At all events, as your medical adviser, I am forced to inflict my presence frequently upon you. Your father likes me. Sarah likes me; Wiggles likes me. Couldn't you," he asked earnestly, "try to overcome your aversion, for the sake of the majority?" I considered. "I think not," I said finally. "Very well. Having appealed to your filial respect, your better self, there is nothing to do but ask you to sign a temporary armistice. For I am beginning to find your concentrated attack rather ... wearing." I smiled. "I wish," said Dr. Denton carefully, "to give you every opportunity to humiliate and infuriate me. I have always believed a little aversion to be an excellent beginning to matrimony. I don't suppose," he continued hopefully, "that by way of simplifying things you would care to marry me?" He bit into a large sugar cookie reflectively. "Marry!" I shouted, sitting bolt upright. I can do it now, Diary, if the occasion demands. "Marry," said he, with the utmost calmness, but with twinkling eyes. I collapsed. "I think you are perfectly insane," I began. And then ceased, for want of words. Dr. Denton sighed. "I was afraid I couldn't persuade you," he said. "Let us pass to the next point."