ristmas present! I
believe he is keen to be at home; and the less you thwart him now, the
better. Don't suggest it until I am gone; but send a wire home at once
to say you are probably returning this afternoon. Then your people will
make all needed preparations for the festive day; turkeys and holly, and
all that sort of thing; have fires lighted everywhere, and all in
readiness. My old sweetheart, Mrs. Blake, will put on cherry-coloured
ribbons, and black satin, and be in the hall to receive you! You had
better mention, in the wire, that I am not coming; then she won't waste
her time hanging mistletoe in likely corners."

Helen wrote the telegram, rang, and gave it to a page.

Then she turned to Dr. Dick.

"Ronnie is _not_ fully himself, yet," she said.

Dick looked at her keenly. "How so?"

"He professes to remember, and does remember, everything which happened,
up to the final crash in the studio. Yet he has made no mention to me
of--of our child."

"He is shy about it," suggested Dick. "You speak first."

"I cannot," she replied. "It is for Ronald to do that."

"Ah, you dear women!" moralised the young bachelor. "You remind me of
Nebuchadnezzar--no, I mean Naaman. You bravely ford the rushing waters
of your Abanas and your Pharpars, and then you buck-jump at the little
river Jordan!"

"My dear Dick, I am becoming accustomed to the extraordinary inaptness
of your scriptural allusions. But this is hardly a _small_ matter
between me and Ronnie. I am ready to make every allowance for his
illness and loss of memory; but I don't see how I can start life with
him at home, until he manages to remember a thing of such vital import
in our wedded life. He may be sane on every other point. I cannot
consider him sane on this."

"Shall I tell him?" suggested Dick.

"No, let him remember. He can remember his Infant of Prague; his mind
is full of that again. Why should he not be able to remember my baby
son?"

"Oh, lor!" sighed Dr. Dick. "Why not put that poser to Ronnie direct,
instead of putting it to me? Forgive me for saying so, but you are
suffering just now from a reaction, after the terrible strain through
which you have passed. And Ronnie is wretched too, because he remembers
how you let fly at him that evening, and he thinks you really meant it."

"I did," said Helen. "Of course, had I known how ill he was, poor old
boy, I should have been more patient. But I have a little son to
consider now, as well as R