“There is nothing that pleases a woman more.” “My friend, you zink of everyzing!” exclaimed the Baron, admiringly. When four o’clock approached he drew a night-shirt over his other garments and got into bed. Mr Bunker at first was in favour of a complete change of attire, but on his friend’s expostulating against such a thorough precaution, he admitted that it would be perhaps rather like the historic blacking of Othello. “Leave it all to me, my dear Baron,” he said, reassuringly, as he tucked him in; and with that he went into the other room and awaited the arrival of their guests. They came punctually. The Countess was full of concern for the “dear Baron,” while Lady Alicia, he could not help thinking, appeared unusually reserved. In fact, his quick eye soon divined that something was the matter. “She has either been getting a lecture from the dowager or has found something out,” he said to himself. However, it seemed that if she had found anything out it could have nothing to do with the Baron’s indisposition, for she displayed the most ingenuous sympathy, and, he thought, she even appeared to aim it pointedly at himself. “So sudden!” exclaimed the Countess. “It is rather sudden, but we’ll hope it may pass as quickly as it came,” said Mr Bunker, conveying a skilful impression of deep concern veiled by a cheerful manner. “Tell me honestly, Mr Bunker, is it dangerous?” demanded the countess. Mr Bunker hesitated, gave a half-hearted laugh, and replied, “Oh, dear, no! that is—at present, Lady Grillyer, we have really no reason to be alarmed.” “I am _so_ sorry,” murmured Lady Alicia. Her mother looked at her approvingly. “Poor Baron!” she said, in a tone of the greatest commiseration. “So far from home!” sighed Mr Bunker. “And yet so cheerful through it all,” he added. “What did you say was the matter?” asked the Countess. Mr Bunker had thought it both wiser and more effective to maintain a little mystery round his friend’s malady. “The doctor hasn’t yet given a decided opinion,” he replied. “Can’t we do anything?” said Lady Alicia, softly. Mr Bunker thought the guests were nearly worked up to the proper pitch of sympathy. “Poor Rudolph!” he exclaimed. “It would cheer him immensely, I know, and ease my own anxiety as well, if you would venture in to see him for a few minutes. In such a case there is no sympathy so welcome as a woman’s.” The Countess glanced at her daughter, and wavered for an instant between those proprieties for which she was a famous stickler and this admirable chance of completing the Baron’s conquest. “His relations are far away,” said Mr Bunker, looking pensively out of the window. “We might come in for a few minutes, Alicia?” suggested Lady Grillyer. “Yes, mamma,” replied Lady Alicia, with an alacrity that rather surprised their host.