Tristan spent the next few days in a lovesick haze. Although the others couldn't help but notice that his behavior was somewhat different than usual, they didn't think much of it, figuring it was another one of his many brief attachments. When James had mentioned something about Tristan's state to Siegfried, Siegfried had declared that it would all blow over in a few days' time. James and Helen were inclined to agree. And yet, by the time a few days had passed, Tristan's behavior had still not altered. He went around with a constant silly grin that stretched over his entire face, and was unable to pay attention to anything he was doing. As a result, he almost gave Siegfried an innoculation against bordatella. It was at that point that Siegfried flew into a rage and banned Tristan from the surgery for the remainder of the day, ordering him to make himself useful by mopping the kitchen floor (Mrs. Hall had the day off). Tristan was more than happy to comply, as mopping the kitchen floor was something he could do completely unsupervised, and thus use the entire time to daydream about Dulcie. He was waltzing around the kitchen with the mop and humming some of the songs from The Mikado when suddenly James entered the room. Abruptly, Tristan stopped dancing with the mop and tried to make it look as though he'd been hard at work cleaning the floor all along. "Oh. Hello, James," he said, as nonchalantly as was possible. "Tris," said James, "I've been meaning to ask you - are you feeling all right?" "Me? Feeling all right? Of course I'm feeling all right. Never better. In the pink. Why do you ask?" Tristan knew he was babbling, and, once again, felt like a fool. "You've been acting rather strangely these last few days," James told him matter-of-factly. "Strangely? Me?" "Yes, you. Who else do you think just nearly innoculated Siegfried against bordatella?" "Merely a slip of the fingers, James my boy," Tristan replied airily. "That's quite a slip, considering that Siegfried was standing behind you and to your left and Mrs. Bosley's dog was right in front of you," James remarked, raising an eyebrow. There was a long, silent, and extremely uncomfortable pause. James knew that he had Tristan in a trap, and Tristan could think of nothing else to say. Finally he had to admit defeat. "James," he said, "If I tell you something, do you promise never to breathe a word to another soul as long as we both live?" "You have my word," James said with a smile. "All right, then." Tristan took a deep breath. "Do you remember the girl who was playing Pitti-Sing the other night?" "What - you mean the ingenue?" "No, her sister. The one wearing the green kimono." "Oh.yes, of course." "I've never seen a lovelier pair of eyes or heard a sweeter voice, James. I swear she's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life." "I've heard that before," James said. However, his tone was not weary but fond. "But it's different this time, James," Tristan insisted. "It's. just.different this time." He stared anxiously at James, hoping he would believe him. He needed someone to believe what he was saying. James regarded him for a moment. Then he said, "I believe you." Tristan could tell he really did. "Thanks James," he said gratefully. James nodded. It was at that point that Siegfried burst into the room. "Ah, James, there you are. Reynolds is on the phone; seems he needs a bunch of pigs castrated. Sounds like a two-man job. Will you go over with me?" "I can do it if Tristan takes over surgery," James said. Siegfried fixed Tristan in a long gaze, then said grudgingly, "All right." He then left, but not before making sure to turn around and give Tristan a look that clearly communicated the fact that if he caused anything odd to happen while they were gone, he would die. Tristan got the message loud and clear. After Siegfried and James left, Tristan finally finished cleaning the floor. He then wandered out into the waiting room to see if there was anyone waiting. No one was there, so he sat down in the surgery and daydreamed some more. He tried to think of an excuse to go see The Mikado again (preferably without Siegfried figuring out why). It seemed like a hopeless cause. He wondered if he would ever see Dulcie Dunlop again. While these thoughts were swirling through his mind, there was a sudden knock at the door. "Hello!" called a female voice. "Is anyone there?" Immediately, Tristan's heart started to race. He rushed to the door and opened it. Standing before him was Dulcie, holding a small box. "H-Hello!" he squeaked, painfully aware of the fact that his loopy grin had gotten even bigger and more ridiculous. "Come in!" He held the door open for her and let her in. "Hello, Mr. Farnon," said Dulcie, smiling at him. "I don't know if you remember me - my name's Dulcie Dunlop. I'm playing Pitti-Sing inThe Mikado at the Hurst Theatre. Albert Maxwell introduced us the other night." "Oh, yes, yes, of course, I remember you! What can I do for you?" It was then that he noticed how sad Dulcie's smile was, and that her eyes were starting to water. "Miss Dunlop - what's wrong?" "It's - it's so silly of me. I'm sorry," Dulcie stammered. "No, no. Don't apologize. Please, sit down." Tristan guided her to a chair and sat next to her. "What's the matter?" "It's my Cassandra," cried the young woman. "She's been acting quite ill lately." She held out the box to Tristan. He opened it and saw a hermit crab sitting inside. "Oh? What's wrong with her?" "She just hasn't been acting like herself, Mr. Farnon. She never comes out of her shell anymore, and she's off her food." "Hmm. Well, don't worry a moment longer, Miss Dunlop. I promise you I'll cure whatever is wrong with Cassandra." Deep down, Tristan had his doubts, but he forced himself to stop thinking of them and wished with all his might that he would be able to make the hermit crab get better. Frantically, he racked his brain for something that might be wrong with her. Finally a flash of inspiration hit him. "You know, I think she might possibly be dehydrated." Dulcie's face lit up with hope. "Really? Can she be made well?" "Absolutely," Tristan said warmly. "If that's what's the matter, all she needs is a drink." He found a bottlecap nearby and filled it with water. He then lifted Cassandra out of her box and gently set her down before the water. She slowly poked her antennae, then her head out of her shell, and to the delight of both Dulcie and Tristan, she began to consume the water. "Oh, Mr. Farnon!" exclaimed Dulcie. "It's a miracle! You're a miracle worker! How can I ever thank you?" "Think nothing of it," Tristan told her. "I'm just glad I was able to help you.both of you." By that point, Cassandra had finished her drink and was ambling around on the table, so Tristan picked her up and began to put her back in her box. She opened her claw and latched onto the skin of his palm. "AAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH!" screamed Tristan. "OOOWWWW! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET - " He finally managed to get Cassandra detached. He heaved a great sigh of relief. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Farnon!" Dulcie gasped. "Oh, no, Miss Dunlop, please don't be," Tristan told her as his palm throbbed wildly with pain. "These things happen, you know. I'm used to it." "Well, if you're absolutely sure," said Dulcie. She still looked concerned and apologetic. Then she said, "Please - call me Dulcie." Tristan forgot all about the pain in his hand as his ludicrous grin became wider still. "All right.Dulcie. And you must call me Tristan." "Tristan," she repeated, and grinned back at him. "Thank you so much." And as she walked out the door, crab in tow, Tristan was convinced that this had been the best day of his life.