“Confound you!” said Ronnie.  But he laughed, and felt better.

* * * * *

Dr. Dick saw Helen alone.

“Well,” he said, “so we’ve pulled him through.  Ronnie’s all right now.  No more need for watching and planning, and guarding; in fact, the less he realises the precautions which were necessary, the better.  I shall take Truscott back to town with me.  He seems to have done awfully well.  I suppose you have no complaints.  Why don’t you hire a car and run straight back home with Ronnie this afternoon.  Think what a jolly Christmas you might have.  Show him the boy as a Christmas 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.”