"Dale, do you think that--" he began.
Some instinct warned the girl that they were not to continue their conversation uninterrupted.

"Be careful!" she breathed, as footsteps sounded in the hall.

Bailey nodded and turned back to his pretense of mending the fire.

Dale moved away from him slowly.
The door opened and Miss Cornelia entered, her black knitting-bag in her hand, on her face a demure little smile of triumph.

She closed the door carefully behind her and began to speak at once.
"Well, Mr.Alopecia--Urticaria--Rubeola--otherwise BAILEY!" she said in tones of the greatest satisfaction, addressing herself to Bailey's rigid back.