may as well be telling
you the truth. Your little friend there hasn't a very big chance.
She's been going to bits for some time. If it hadn't been this it
would have been something else. She's got a grand physique, so there's
hope. If she's worse by to-morrow she ought to have an operation.
Only I can't undertake it, ye see. There's the trouble. My hand isn't
as steady as it was, and I haven't the instruments."

Emile nodded. He knew nothing of the operation of tracheotomy, and
though he spoke English well he found it difficult to follow Michael's
soft, thick, County Cork speech.

"She's a grand heap of a girl, isn't she?" continued that gentleman,
regarding Arithelli with kindly eyes. He had all the Celt's love of
romance, and the ingrained reverence of the Irish Catholic for women.
"This isn't the place for girls, at all, at all! And they tell me
she's from the old country. Will I be sending up one of the good
Sisthers to see after her, and put things to rights a bit?"

For the second time that day Emile ungratefully rejected the
ministrations of the Church. He knew that no one else in Spain ever
thought of employing anyone but the religious orders as nurses, but he
preferred to arrange things in his own way and said so.

"Ah, well then!" said Michael amiably, "give her something to drink if
she wants it. That's all. I'll look in again this evening. She'll
have taken a turn then one way or the other. It's a quick thing, this."

Arithelli's ministering angels left in each other's company. Michael
drifted back to his favourite _cafe_, while Emile betook himself to the
Hippodrome to wage war with that amiable functionary, the Manager. The
strife was both noisy and prolonged, and resulted in only a partial
victory for Emile. With many picturesque oaths the Manager accused
himself of folly unspeakable in not dismissing Arithelli at once.

She had a contract? Yes! But in it there was no allowance made for
incompetence and non-appearance. It only stipulated that she should be
paid for doing her work. She had not done it, and moreover she had
refused to practise. That he should be expected to continue to pay her
a salary even of the smallest description while she lay in bed was a
monstrous impertinence.

Would he not have the trouble and expense of getting another artiste to
fill her place? There must be an _equestrienne_ in the programme. If
she found herself taken back again to finish her tim