“Been fightin',” I said, remembering how I had answered a similar question of my father one day when I returned from school with a black eye and my trousers torn. “They kep' pickin' on me.” Then I told him the story of my quarrel with the slim count and its climax. But I said nothing of Forbes's part in the matter. We laughed so loudly that the nurse entered in a panic to see what was the matter. “Nothing's the matter except good health,” I said. “We're both twenty years younger than we were a short time ago, and if you know any remedy for that go and throw it out of the window.” She retired from the scene, and we went on with our talk. “You're about the most versatile lawyer that I ever knew,” said he. “Such devotion I did not deserve or expect. If there's any more fighting to be done we'll hire a boy. For what you have done I say 'Thanks,' and you know what I mean by that. Gosh t' Almighty! I'm going to get out of bed, and we'll have some fun.” “I'm beginning to long for the old sod!” I remarked. “So'm I. Let's go south for a little while and then home. It looks as if we should have to take a count with us as a souvenir.” “The Raspagnetti?” I asked. “The same,” said he. “Read that.” He drew from under his pillow a letter from the Count Raspagnetti, which said: _I am sorry that you are sick, for I desire so much to talk with you and tell you, I should say, how profoundly I am in love with your beautiful and accomplished daughter. The esteemed Monsignor who bears this note, and who is my friend and yours also, can tell you that I am worthy of your confidence, although unworthy, so to speak, of such an adorable creature as Miss Gwendolyn. But I feel in my heart that I cannot be happy without her. I assure you that I would rather die than find it impossible to make her my wife. So I hope that you will let me see you soon, if your health should cherish the endurance, and permit me to speak of such things to her._ I had scarcely finished reading it when Norris said: “The Monsignor, whom I had met in New York, and who is one of the most courtly gentlemen you can imagine, came to see me this morning and recommended the count without reserve as one of the first gentlemen of Italy. I guess he's all right, and I agree with my wife that we will put it up to Gwendolyn and let her do as she likes. If she must have a title I presume she couldn't do better.” I was about to suggest that she would need a special allowance for hair-restorer, but restrained myself. I thought that I wouldn't say anything disagreeable unless it should be necessary and also susceptible of proof. “What does Gwendolyn think of him?” I asked.