"How sweet of you! Ah, I am a martyr! I have hay fever to such a
distressing extent that I am positively ashamed to go into society."

Her daughter laughed.

"We were at the Opera last night, and Mamma's sneezes were most
_mal-à-propos._ It was very embarrassing."

"Yes, I am convinced that Romeo glowered at me, and at church on
Sunday it was such a charming sermon, so encouraging and tactful, I
sneezed violently in the man's best moments. At my age I cannot
consent to become a public infliction, yet I feel I am a nuisance."

"Mamma said, as soon as we got home--'I shall go and consult Sir
John,'" cooed Ethel.

"And now you can cure me?" The Duchess looked anxiously into the
grave face opposite.

"I have not the slightest doubt you will be entirely recovered in a
few days at most," said Sir John reassuringly; "you have caught a
severe cold."

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you. I have had colds before, and I
know better."

"What, better than your doctor?" The stern face relaxed, and Sir John
laughed.