SWEET CLOVER (continued 5)

"Now then," said Jack, "see the ship of the desert let out the reefs in its legs!"

Shrieks arose from the maidens at the first ascent, wilder and wilder cries and clutchings at the second and third, and by the time the animal had reached the stature of a camel and swung away, the whole crowd was uproarious, only quieting to observe the next pair embark.

"Miss Amelia Edwards says the camel is a beast that hates its rider," said Jack. "I wonder what are the private prejudices of the Cairo Street variety."

"As if you couldn't see!" answered Mildred. "It wouldn't be half so funny if the camels didn't curl their lips and look so supercilious all the time those idiots are shrieking so. 'What fools these mortals be!' is the sentiment their faces express chronically. Poor things! Just think, that they are only intended to kneel once or twice a day, and here they have to go down every three minutes. How they would execrate Columbus if they only knew how! Oh, look at that old lady! It is a shame to let her go," added Mildred. "They will laugh at her, too."

"Never mind. She will be the heroine of Perkins Point, or wherever it is, all the rest of her life."

"She looks scared, Jack. Oh, dear! her bonnet is falling off. I wish she wouldn't. Why, there are Clover and Mr. Page! Do you see them? Let us go out on the balcony." Mildred left the window-seat, and Jack followed.

"Is there a balcony? Why didn't you say so?"

"Because I am economical of my pleasant surprises." The watchful Sayed threw open double doors of the lattice work, and revealed a small, square balcony upon which the visitors stepped into the sunlight. The fanciful minarets and spires of the street gleamed against an azure sky.

Clover and Gorham had paused just below, also interested in the venturesome old lady, who was followed by cheers as her scornful camel bore her up the street.

Jack took advantage of the temporary lull that followed, to whistle the bit from "Carmen."

Clover instantly looked up and called the attention of her companion.

Mildred beckoned.

"Clover knows the way," said Jack.

"Most certainly she does. We Chicagoans aren't Fair visitors. We are Fair livers."

"Don't be so toplofty, mademoiselle. What am I, if not a Chicagoan?"

"Oh, a sort of deserter."

"'I deny the allegation and despise the allegator.' I am going to marry a Chicago girl, and live here all my days."

"Have you asked her?"

Van Tassel, perhaps reminded by the neighborhood of his mentor, forbore from replying to the saucy smiling eyes, and here Clover and Gorham appeared at the door of the balcony.

"Come out," said Mildred, "it holds five. Is this the way you visit the Anthropological Building?"

"Why, this is all right," answered Page. "'Midway Plaisance, Department M. Ethnology.' Look on the catalogue, and you will see this is all a part of the Anthropological exhibit."

"And apart from it," suggested Mildred, "which certainly is in its favor. I thought you would see enough ghastly pictures and graveyards and mummies in a short time."

"The exhibits in the gallery are wonderful and beautiful," said Clover. "I don't believe you know what you are talking about."

"I do, my dear. I have oh'd and ah'd over them all, from the dainty infinitesimal sea creatures on pink cotton to the mammoth. I felt so much obliged to him. He really made me feel small. Then the realistic cliff, with the birds and beasts artistically disposed, and the waterfall and flowing brook. I've seen them. How long have you been here?"

"Not very long. We have been watching the antics of the women on the camels, and the long-legged men on those tiny donkeys."

"A great deal of human nature comes out in Cairo Street," said Page with interest. "One sees a great variety of motives, and many grades of self-control by that camel stand. See that little woman going now to take a trip. Is it amusement she's after? Not at all. Note the determination in her face. Duty calls and she obeys. Dollars to doughnuts she doesn't scream, Jack."

"I'm out of doughnuts; but I'll bet you the supper she does. I haven't seen a quiet one yet."

"Done! You will see one now."

"That girl is from the East," said Mildred.

"I am sure of it," returned Page, gazing with pleased curiosity at his protégée, who stood waiting her turn; "but what brings you to that conclusion?"

"The trimming of her hat looks as if it were nailed on. They say all Boston women's bonnet trimmings are nailed on."

"She is a character," said Page. "Now I would like to know what her motive is in riding that camel."

Jack guffawed. "I am sure you would. You will be asking her the next thing we know."

"Well, it is no idle one, I'm sure of that."

"Perhaps she is a school teacher," suggested Van Tassel, "and wants to go home and tell her scholars how pitch-and-toss in Cairo Street differs from the usual game."

"There she goes," said Clover, and they all watched the fair-faced girl approach and mount a camel whose expression for utter boredom rather outdid its neighbors. At the driver's cry it gathered itself convulsively. The rider lurched forward. Her back was to the watchers on the balcony, but they could not hear a sound from her. She lurched backward, still without a cry, and they were not surprised when the camel swung around to see her face still set in its determined and composed lines while the crowd looked on in silence.

"I shall enjoy that supper very much, Jack," said Gorham.

"You haven't won it yet. Wait till she comes back. When his Nibs kneels down is the time a girl's lungs really come into play. After she thinks every joint in his body has doubled up there comes one unexpected plunge that fetches the most dignified of them every time. They say a sailor came in here the other day and after riding one of our humped friends said that the camel played cup-and-ball with him the whole length of the street, and only missed him twice."

In a few minutes, back came Gorham's heroine, still composed as she rocked back and forth clinging to the rope which the driver had handed her for a support.

"Now that supper hangs in the balance," remarked Page.

"I'm safe enough," returned Jack nonchalantly, "and I assure you my appetite is in prime condition."

The camel, slowly winking and holding his nose aloft, approached his cushion, and began the series of spasmodic collapses which made its rider look as though at the mercy of a rocking-chair gone mad. She pitched wildly, but valiantly held her peace. Even Jack had to admit that she did not make a murmur, and all his protests against playing off a dumb girl on him were unheeded as Page gazed benignly down on the young woman, who smiled sweetly and triumphantly as she rejoined her friends.

"Five minutes of four," said Mildred. "The wedding procession will soon pass. Aren't we fortunate to have the balcony? Do you see, other people are daring to visit the house and taking our window-seat?"

"Your window-seat! That is pretty good," said Clover, turning toward the speaker with an arch smile. "We thought that was our window-seat, didn't we, Jack?"

She saw the color flash over her sister's face in the instant before the girl controlled herself. She wondered if Jack had seen the novel evidence of feeling before Mildred turned to him coolly.

"So you have been here before," she remarked. "Why didn't you mention it?"

"Clover and I looked in a short time only, the evening we took supper in Germany," answered Van Tassel. "I did not examine the curious place at all then, so this is really my first view of it."

Clover turned away to conceal her amusement. Jack in his embarrassment had implied all she could have asked from the disciplinary standpoint.

But now the attention of the quartette was claimed by the wedding procession, which was seen coming down the street, the camels nearly hidden under their gaudy, bulky trappings, and the din of the tom-toms filling the air. When the music, dancing, and sword play were ended, Mildred spoke to her sister.

"What have you done with Mr. and Mrs. Page?"

"They went to the Chinese theatre, and we have promised to meet them in Old Vienna and take supper there."

"Our dear Jack will have to take supper with us now," declared Gorham cordially.

"I suppose," said Van Tassel, addressing Mildred, "that Old Vienna is an oft-repeated experience to you?"

"At least I shall not pretend that it is a novelty," she answered without looking at him, and Jack was silent. He even colored, but it was not with proper contrition. It was a flush of pleasure that overspread his countenance as his brown eyes sent a quick glance into Clover's.

CHAPTER XXI.

OLD VIENNA.

"How remarkable that you met Mildred," said Clover to Jack, after the four had wended their way out of Cairo and turned west.

"It was a lucky chance," replied Van Tassel.

"Where did you meet?" The fun in his face gave Clover her first suspicion.

"In the Ferris Wheel. Wasn't it a coincidence that we should have chosen the same cab? And I'll tell you in confidence, Clover, that I think Mildred was considerably impressed with his Wheelship."

"Why should you make a confidence of that?" asked Mildred nonchalantly. "We are all impressed, aren't we?"

"Not to the verge of pallor, Milly."

"Don't call me Milly. No one does that but Clover."

"Were you really frightened, Mildred?" asked her sister with much interest.

"Why do you ask me? Ask Jack. He evidently knows all about it."

"No, I insist on referring you to Mildred herself. She scorns petty deceits of all kinds. I cannot be relied on to tell the absolute truth."

Mildred looked at the speaker with a dangerous sparkle in her eyes. "Why don't you give Clover her present?" she asked suddenly.

"A present for me? Why, hurry," exclaimed Clover. "What new extravagance have you been committing, Milly?"

"It isn't I this time, it is Jack. He has bought you the most adorable little silver hanging-lamp you ever saw. Open it, Jack; or shall we wait till we are seated in Old Vienna?"

"You told him I wanted it, you naughty girl."

"No, I didn't." Mildred was bubbling over with mischievous satisfaction in Van Tassel's struggles to look bland. "It was purely spontaneous on his part. I even went so far as to urge him not to get it. Didn't I, Jack?"

Van Tassel's reply was scarcely audible; but they had reached the guard, who with puffed sleeves and feathered hat stood motionless, spear in hand, before the entrance to the Vienna of two hundred years ago.

Inside they found the Pages, standing before one of the many open shops which formed the first floors of the weather-stained, peaked, and turreted houses.

"Hilda is buying a spoon," announced Mr. Page as his friends approached; "but that goes without saying. I have kept careful count, and this is the seventy-seventh she has purchased while with me. Of course there may be others. I can't tell what pleasant surprises may be awaiting me when we get home."

"How was the Chinese theatre?" asked Gorham, while Clover and Mildred gravitated naturally to Mrs. Page's side to lend her their aid in deciding between the merits of two spoons she was examining.

"Immense; you must go."

"You mustn't go unless you want to be driven crazy with noise," put in Hilda. "Robert says I am deficient in the sense of humor, but you positively can't think in that place. There was a Chinese-American in the audience acting as an interpreter, and I suppose he saw that Robert was interested; so he just stayed with us, and put the crowning touch to the confusion by explaining the play at a pitch to be heard above the squealing music and the shrieking actors."

"Women's parts all taken by men, of course," explained her husband, "and they jabber in a high monotonous falsetto without any change of countenance except an occasional attack of pathetic strabismus. Two lovers meet after a separation of ten years. They start, then with two simultaneous squeaks fall backward in a swoon, feet to feet, and lie there with their elaborately dressed heads sticking up in the air, while a supe runs in with wooden supports which he tucks under their necks. The interpreter explained: 'Of course they cannot spoil their hair!' Ha! ha! It was great; and as for the costumes and hangings, they would stand alone for the gold and silver embroidery in them. Confess, Hilda, they were consoling."

"Yes, they were; and so was the baby we saw upstairs in the Joss-house. He was ten months old, with a black tuft of hair on top of his head exactly like the Chinese dolls, and was dressed in green silk trousers and a red silk shirt."

"You must have wanted to steal him," said Mildred.

"That is what his mother thought, I am sure. He lay asleep in a little wagon, and when she heard me exclaim, she flew out from behind a curtain with a very suspicious expression on her pretty face. Yes, she was really pretty, and dimpled, and young; and her hands were loaded with rings. Robert, just look here one minute. Don't you think the filigree handle is the prettier?"

"My dear, I ate too many bananas once, and have never since been able to endure the sight of them. If you knew the sentiments with which a souvenir spoon inspires me, you would tremble."

"I will take the filigree one," said Mrs. Page, with a sigh of relief.

The six ate supper together at a table pleasantly distant from the fine German orchestra. Feathery bits of white cloud scudded over the blue above them. Picturesque gables and weather-beaten façades illuminated with the decorations of a bygone time closed them in from the outside world with such an atmosphere of antiquity, that even the dignified beauty of Handel's Largo, as its stately measures pealed forth on the evening air, seemed an anachronism.

Mildred sat at Jack's right hand.

"What shall I put down for you?" he asked, looking up from the order he was writing. "I found nothing on the card injurious enough to be appropriate."

Mildred smiled slightly as she glanced over the menu.

"You deserved a worse punishment than that," she answered.

"It is true it was no great punishment. I should like to give Clover all Cairo Street if she wants it."

Clover was sitting opposite between the other men, and the music effectually concealed from her the above colloquy.

"Hurry up, Jack," she said, leaning forward; "they keep you waiting forever here. Give her bread and milk if she can't decide. It is good for the young."

While the party were waiting for their meal to be brought, Jack, now at ease in the situation, produced the silver lamp, which received much praise as it was passed about.

Gorham, Mildred's other neighbor, turned to her. "Your sister suggests that you must have practiced much self-control," he remarked. "She says this is just the sort of lamp you have been searching for."

"Do you hear that, Jack?" asked Mildred demurely. "I am afraid Jack does not appreciate me, Mr. Page."

Mildred, ever since the evening of her confidential talk with Gorham, had carried the half-nettled, wholly amused consciousness that he was regarding her with considerations of her search for that affinity she had described. She felt sure he would not repeat their talk to Jack; but if he should! The thought brought a stinging red to her cheeks.

Page was not thinking of her now, however. This little circumstance of the gift of the lamp impressed him. That Jack should, while with Mildred, buy this bauble which the latter coveted and give it to Clover, looked as though Hilda's convictions might be correct. As he caught a serene glance from Clover's violet eyes it suddenly seemed to him very improbable that an impressionable fellow like his cousin should not dream by day and night of that pure and beautiful face.

Jack was not worthy of her, he could not precisely state to himself why; and he ran over his acquaintances in his mind to see if he could find one the consideration of whom would rouse less antagonism. He had not succeeded when the waiter appeared with the supper.

"What are you indefatigable people going to do next?" asked Robert Page, lighting a cigar when their meal was finished. "I am extremely comfortable and good-natured now, but I warn you I shall turn dangerous if any one suggests the illumination. To be asked just to step over from Old Vienna to the Court of Honor sounds pleasant. It was played on me once when I was a tenderfoot; but I'm not to be roped into any such pilgrimage to-night. If I wasn't a married man, I should sit right here and listen to the music, and see the Wheel go round, until it was time to go to my little bed."

"What nonsense!" remarked Hilda. "If you weren't married you would be urging me to go with you in a gondola."

"My dear, where would be the use? You know the gondolas are all bespoken by this time. What a sweet consciousness it is, by the way," added Page, sighing restfully.

"We are going, though, some night," returned his wife. "Before we leave the White City, you must take me in a gondola and hold my hand."

"See the lengths to which this woman's frenzy for spoons carries her! Why, I'll hold your hand now, my dear. Any suggestion which presupposes so little exertion as that will find me in an affirmative state of mind every time."

Hilda glanced at his offered hand scornfully. "We haven't the stage-setting," she replied. "Be careful, Robert Page, or you will frighten Mildred out of getting married at all."

"Is that true, Miss Mildred? Oh, I don't believe it. You are so level-headed you must see the situation in the right light. Did you ever hear the simile of the horse-car? When a man is trying to catch a horse-car and afraid it is going to escape him, he waves his arms, shouts, hurries, and disturbs himself generally. After he has caught the conveyance, if he continued to behave in the same perturbed fashion he would be set down as a lunatic. You see the point, of course?"

Mildred pursed her lips and shook her head. "You are a very audacious man," she answered.

"Now Jack isn't smoking," continued Page argumentatively. "That indicates the restlessness of the man who is afraid he will arrive too late at the street corner."

"It indicates that I am not going to stay here," returned Van Tassel.

"Whither away, restless one?"

"You will have to ask Miss Bryant. She is showing me the World's Fair to-day."

"Not after your perfidious behavior," said Mildred. "I was too sophisticated, was I? Oh, for shame!"

"Do you speak to me of perfidy!" exclaimed Jack.

"Well, sha'n't we all go somewhere together?" suggested Gorham.

"No, I think we sha'n't, dear brother," replied Robert mildly.

"Do you want to stay, Hilda?" asked Gorham. "Aren't you growing tired of hearing Zwei Bier? Come with us."

"No, thanks. I will stay here until it bores me, and then I will give Robert his choice of selecting another souvenir spoon or taking me out."

So the other four left their seats and moved away to the martial strains of Die Wacht am Rhein.

Clover found herself beside Jack a moment.

"It was a shame about the lamp," she murmured.

"What?" returned Van Tassel, looking uncomfortably into her roguish eyes.

"I saw how it was. Too bad; but that is another thing she will repent at leisure."

"How did you know?"

"By Mildred's impish dimple. She has one just above her lip that never shows except when she is in mischief. At first I was taken in; but after a moment I saw the imp, and then I knew."

"What a wonderful sight the Wheel is with its double row of electric lights," said Mildred to Gorham.

"What—yes; it has been rather warm," he replied; this irrelevance being due to the effect upon him of observing Clover's murmured colloquy with Jack.

Mildred stared. When she made a remark to a man, she was accustomed to find him attentive.

Page continued with another inexcusable speech.

"I wonder if perhaps Mrs. Van Tassel would like to go somewhere with Jack."

"I believe Jack considers himself otherwise engaged this evening," returned Miss Bryant with hauteur.

"Oh—oh yes." Gorham's eyes fell upon the speaker with an expression which suggested that he had just become aware of her, and until this moment had been talking to himself.

A light broke upon Mildred. There was but one possible explanation of such ignoring of her own preëminent right to homage.

"They are both in love with her!" she thought, and the slight pang that came with the idea surprised her.

Clover and Jack, with the laughter on their lips, stepped forward and joined the others.

"Have you any wish, Mrs. Van Tassel?" asked Page.

"No, let us drift until something tempts us." They soon lost sight of Mildred and Jack in that stream of humanity which flowed in both directions along the Midway between the soft arc-moons. They left behind them the great Wheel, slowly revolving in sparkling light as though, sweeping through the heavens, myriad stars had caught thickly along its edges and were borne on to earth.

"Let me carry that precious lamp," said Page, taking Clover's parcel.

"I would not let Jack keep it, for fear he might give it to Mildred," she explained.

Her companion looked surprised.

"Jack is a little weak and indulgent where Mildred is concerned," said Clover.

Page did not know what to reply. Hilda had assured him in days past that no one could help seeing that Mrs. Van Tassel was unwilling Jack should ask Mildred to go to the Fair with him, and now this frank avowal of jealousy perplexed him greatly.

"But what—what mystifies me, Mrs. Van Tassel," he said hesitatingly, "is that you should care for a gift—but there are limits to a man's right to express his thoughts."

Clover laughed out mirthfully. "Analyze me. I am perfectly willing, only it will necessitate exposing the fact that my sister is a very saucy girl."

Page regarded her so earnestly that he nearly stumbled over a wheeled chair that grazed him.

"I don't understand it at all," he said seriously.

"Of course not. Well, I will tell you. Jack bought this lamp for Mildred; and she, to punish him for some offense, forced him to give it to me in the way you heard. She doesn't know that I saw through it; but now I do not propose that she shall have the fun and the lamp too."

Page found the Midway grow a trifle cheerier under this disclosure. "Of course not," he answered; then, after a moment's thoughtfulness: "That was a strange prank for your sister to play," he added. "I fear I shouldn't have known how to yield as easily to the joke as Jack did."

"Oh, he stuttered a good deal, poor fellow," laughed Clover. "Mildred is a spoiled child."

"Not so superficial, though, as one would at first believe," returned Gorham. "There is plenty of depth to her nature. Society educates a girl to seem shallow, that is all."

Clover looked surprised and pleased. She glanced at Page with quick, responsive feeling.

"It is very nice of you to see through Mildred," she said, and Page felt a strange glow under her approval.

"The folly of Hilda," he thought, "in supposing this woman could be jealous of another!"

There was something too in the quiet joyousness of her sphere which assured him that whatever were her sentiments for Jack, she was not longing for his society now. She was content, he felt it, and the knowledge was bliss to him.

"I wonder how soon we are going to be attracted," remarked Clover, after they had walked a minute in silence.

Page turned to her suddenly. "What do you mean by that?" he asked so eagerly that the surprised color rushed to his companion's face.

"Why, we were waiting, weren't we, for one of these side shows to tempt us beyond the point of resistance," she answered, with the glibness with which a woman can skim over a moment which threatens too much.

"Well, to tell the truth I had forgotten what we were doing beyond sauntering together in this very interesting, motley crowd. Isn't it strange how completely alone we are in such a place?"

"Or might be, if it were not for the wheeled chairs," said Clover. "It isn't safe to become introspective here."

"Was I?" anxiously. "Have I been silent, Mrs. Van Tassel? My thoughts often play me tricks. Hilda is always saying that I am 'queer.' I don't know just what she means, but if you would be kind enough to mention it if I do anything you don't like, I should be—it would be a great favor."

"You are very flattering," returned Clover, turning away to smile. "What a temptation you offer me!"

"Then I do offend you?" he exclaimed with frank consternation.

"No, no, I didn't mean that. I was only thinking what a temptation you hold out to a woman to mould a fellow-creature into the form she likes. But I know what an ignis fatuus that alluring idea is. Men do not alter themselves to please women."

"I should say," returned Page ruminatively, "that you are wrong. I know that Hilda has changed Robert in many ways, materially."

"By the force of years of influence, yes; but your brother did not know what was going on. I am certain of that."

"I should suppose," said Page earnestly, "that a man could not rest in the knowledge that he was doing something offensive to the woman he loves."

"Yes, you would suppose so," agreed Clover. "My knowledge of the truth is gathered from observation, not experience, as you know. I reverenced Mr. Van Tassel too completely to think of desiring to change him. In my married life it was myself I wished to alter; but I have seen a good deal of young married people, and—well, tell me, Mr. Page, did you ever hear Hilda say that she would be glad if her husband did not smoke?"

"Yes," replied Gorham, and said no more.

"Now I begin to feel a strong temptation, Mr. Page. How is it with you? Are you prepared to resist the Javanese village?"

"I have not been in there."

"Oh, you mustn't miss that. I wonder you have been able to pass that charming, fantastic, bamboo entrance. The lightness and simplicity of this life makes it to me the most charming in the Plaisance."

They entered the gateway and came suddenly upon the quiet attractions of the dainty straw village. Yes, it was still, here; still enough to hear the muffled music of the water-wheel. Clover and Page stood a moment in the hush, listening to its tinkle, and the plashing of the wavelets. A small, soft-footed Javanese occasionally passed them.

"I wish that I smoked," broke out Gorham suddenly.

"Here will be an opportunity," returned Clover. "You will be offered cigarettes at every turn in Java."

Page's seriousness was unmoved. "I want you to believe that I would give it up if you asked me."

Mrs. Van Tassel's serene heart quickened its pace, but she laughed. "Isn't it a pity that I shall have to remain incredulous?" then she hastened on, vaguely afraid of her companion. "Don't misunderstand me, please. I was not criticising your brother a minute ago. Do you know you have formed a shocking habit of frankness in me? You have searched out my thoughts and opinions so many times that now you have only to suggest a subject and I pour out my ideas. I think I ought to have kept my observations to myself on this topic; but since I have said so much, I don't wish to leave you with the notion that I think your brother and men like him monsters of selfishness. A woman makes an absurd mistake to marry a smoking man, and then to be grieved because he refuses when she artlessly requests him to give up the habit; but a girl nearly always thinks that all she need do is to marry a man in order to make him over into anything she likes. I tell you, Mr. Page, it is the result of my observations that all the voluntary changes a man makes at the request of his beloved are made before—before he catches the horse-car."

Gorham smiled. "But I don't think Robert ought to smoke, since Hilda"—

"Pardon me. I am going to defend the absent. Did he smoke while they were engaged?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Now, do you wish to hear some words of wisdom?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Here they are. If Hilda disliked tobacco, she should have said so, then; and she probably did. When she found Mr. Page would not give up the habit, she should have weighed the question in her mind as to whether the matter of smoking were going to affect her happiness seriously. If she thought it would, she should have broken her engagement. The great point is, that if she decided to marry him she should have realized that she took him as he was, tobacco and all, and would be likely to have rather more than less of it for the rest of her life."

"A man is a selfish brute," remarked Gorham.

"Sometimes; but he has the same right a woman has to choose between his habit and his love; that is, if the woman speaks in time."

"Hilda does not particularly dislike cigar smoke," said Page, "but she thinks smoking is bad for Robert. I wonder if all men are as thick-skinned as you say. Now, there is Jack. Do you believe he would not fling all his cigars into the lake for—for you?"

"Yes, indeed; so long as there were plenty more to be had."

"No, Mrs. Van Tassel, be serious; and for the moment pardon personalities. If Jack were engaged to you"—

He waited, gazing at Clover. She smiled at him and said, "Well, if Jack were engaged to me?"

Page swallowed some impediment to speech.

"And you should earnestly ask him not to smoke, can you doubt the result?"

Clover shrugged her shoulders. "No, I am afraid I can't. Jack is a gentleman, and such an impulsive, affectionate fellow, I know pretty well what he would do, supposing of course that he were very earnestly and deeply in love with me."

"Which he is, of course." The dismal exclamation broke from Page unawares.

Clover stared at him. "Oh no, he isn't," she said gently, after a minute.

"What!"

"No, indeed. Jack and I always were good comrades, and always will be, I hope."

Page suddenly took both her hands excitedly, and laughed aloud.

"Pardon me," he said, sobering suddenly. "I was forgetting where we were." He drew her hand within his arm and they started to walk. "Pretty little light things these bamboo houses are," he continued. "What a gentle life they suggest. I don't know exactly why I am so glad to hear what you tell me, Mrs. Van Tassel. I was under a mistaken idea that you and Jack were—and it is no reflection upon Jack that I am relieved. He is a fine fellow. There is no man I like better; so it is—it is really difficult for me to explain why—why"—

"Never mind trying, Mr. Page," returned Clover, smiling softly at a cage of doves outside a cottage door. "It isn't necessary," she added demurely, "to label every feeling one has."

"It is a sort of habit of mine," he returned apologetically. "What is this long straw building?"

"The theatre."

"Will you come in?"

"Yes; I have not visited it, but I hear it is interesting."

So they entered the well-filled hall just as the performance was beginning, and were fortunate enough to find seats near the stage. At both sides of the latter were placed rows of puppets with grotesque faces, featured like the masks worn by most of the actors. At the back of the stage were ranged the musicians, sitting cross-legged in rows before their highly ornamented instruments. These were soft-toned gongs, bells, and strings of strange fashion, and instead of being solely noticeable for rhythm, like most of the music of the Midway, one heard from this orchestra plaintive harmonies and cadences which seemed but an amplification of the minor pleading in the water-wheel's play.

The curtained entrances at the side back of the stage looked too small and low to admit the actors, but there was room and to spare even for the men, and still more for the dainty brown dancing-girls who soon glided forth. They were exceedingly pretty and graceful, dressed in gold-embroidered velvet trousers to the knee, and short skirts. Their dimpled shoulders and arms were bare, and their fringed sashes were used to fling over their wrists in the fascinating monotonous gestures with which they pointed their little hands as they stepped about in their white-stockinged feet.

The performance was all in pantomime, the lines being read by some one hidden behind a screen in the centre of the stage. The orchestra men in their calico gowns and turbans often smiled at some sally of the clown; but Clover and Page did not need to comprehend in order to be amused. There was something tenderly comical in the pompous movements of the little people gesturing in stiff, studied fashion. From time to time the dancing-girls would appear, gliding hither and yon, and posing to the tinkling music.

"This is surprisingly pretty," said Page.

"I want one of those brown girls to take home as bricabrac," returned Clover. "Aren't they the roundest, prettiest little creatures! Really, the whole thing seems strange enough to be a sight in fairy-land; and do you hear that enchanting rustle of trees above our heads?"

The light summer breeze was stirring the dried straw and grass that thatched the roof, with the lulling effect of wind in a forest.

"I am enchanted, I admit," answered Gorham.

After the play they walked about the village, among the houses where the little inhabitants sat upon their piazzas and sang, or talked, or rested silently.

"I shall never see such a reposeful place again," said Gorham, when at last they passed out beneath the bamboo arch into the turbulent street. "I should like to prolong that experience indefinitely."

"You can repeat it," suggested Clover.

"I should like to believe that; but one seldom has so much enjoyment in the same space of time as I have had this evening. I feel grateful to you for showing me all that."

They passed down the remainder of the Midway and under the last viaduct. Walking north around the end of the Woman's Building, they stood a moment arm-in-arm by the lagoon, and watched the quiet boats glide by, then slowly began the homeward walk.

"You did not tell me," said Page, "what you knew Jack would do in our supposed case."

"Haven't we finished yet with the sins of smokers?"

"I don't know. Perhaps we have. Were you going to say that you believed Jack would give up the habit at the request of the woman he loved?"

"I was going to say that he would promise to. Yes, I am quite sure what Jack would do, for I have known men of his kind to do the same thing. His fiancée—I, for example"—

"No, say your sister; although he is not at all her kind."

"Why, what is the matter with poor Jack, Mr. Page?" asked Clover rather resentfully. "In what category do you place him, pray?"

"I place him high enough," returned Gorham hastily. "I only refer to a woman's fancy, and I have an idea that Miss Bryant would prefer a more sober, studious man."

"Why, I can't imagine what makes you think that!"

"It doesn't matter," said Page. "It can't hurt her at all for us to engage her to him for a few minutes. You are not going to say that Jack would make a promise and break it? If you think that, you rate him lower than I do."

"He wouldn't mean to. This is about the way it goes, or the way I have known it to go. Supposing Mildred to be engaged to Jack, she might tell him she wished he did not smoke; that she disapproved it for many reasons. He would probably reply that he hoped she would not ask him to give it up, for if she insisted of course he should comply with her wishes. This would make such an appeal to her tenderness that she would forbear objecting awhile, feeling sure, poor thing, that her lover was completely in her power; but after a time, inclination and conviction both urging her, she would return to the subject. She might say, for instance, that she could not help wishing strongly that he would give up this habit, and that Clover had said no man would do it for any woman. At this Jack would flare up. How could Clover be guilty of such a speech! She had evidently never known any man who loved a woman as he, Jack, adored her, Mildred. He would die for her. It would be a pleasure to him to give up this comparatively slight gratification for the sake of proving his affection for his beloved. Great elation on the part of Mildred. Lying low on the part of Clover. Jack stops smoking, and is ostentatiously careless and cheerful. Mildred flatters him gratefully. He assures her that he does not care if he never sees a cigar again, and is glad if such a trifling sacrifice pleases her.

"Some day, perhaps before their marriage, perhaps after, it depends upon the length of the engagement, Jack, after dinner, lights a cigar with a friend. Mildred protests gently. He answers reproachfully. Of course she knows the habit is entirely broken up, she surely is not going to be puritanical and unreasonable because once in a way he lights a cigar as she would eat confectionery? She still feels uneasy, but is rather ashamed to show it. He puts his arm around her, tells her she is a nice little girl, and came just in time to save him from smoking to excess, and he thanks her for it."

"Well?" said Gorham, as she paused.

"Well, that occasional cigar soon becomes a daily one, or one of a daily half-dozen."

"Mrs. Van Tassel! How cynical you are!"

Clover laughed. "Oh no, not cynical. Jack was honest in his expectation to give up his pet indulgence. He reasoned himself into thinking his course was right."

"I can't believe it is always so."

"Always, Mr. Page," returned Clover, nodding wisely. "Men have died and worms have eaten them, but not for love. Men have given up tobacco and endured the torment it entails, but not—for—love!"

"I never wished before that I was a smoker," said Page musingly, "but I suppose it would be rather foolish to cultivate the appetite merely to deny it."

"A piece of braggadocio which would be sure to reap the reward of failure," replied Clover.

"Don't say that, or you will tempt me to experiment. My first cigar made me dreadfully ill when I was twelve years old, and my father counter-irritated my internal misery with an outward application; so I didn't try it again for some time. In the past year I have occasionally yielded to Jack's urgency and smoked a cigar, but it doesn't interest me. I forget about it, and it goes out."

"By all means let well enough alone," laughed Clover.

"Do you object to the use of tobacco?" asked Page earnestly.

"In you I should," answered the other, her eyes shining in the darkness.

"I wish I could give it up," he replied simply.

CHAPTER XXII.

ON THE LAGOON.

Mildred and Jack, when they discovered that they had lost their companions, made no effort to find them.

"It is a great bore for more than two to try to keep together in this place. Don't you think so?" asked Van Tassel.

"It is very difficult, certainly," agreed the girl. "Isn't it strange to look about this wonder-world of a street and realize that it is just the Midway Plaisance? Recall the old driveway at this hour."

"Yes; early evening was its most populous time too; but even then, how quiet it was. What a wild idea it would have been to expect to see Turkish dancing-girls, half-naked Dahomeyans, and all the rest, living in those still, green fields. Have you been in to Hagenbeck's and seen the marvelous trained animals?"

"Yes; but it is a rather creepy pleasure to watch lions, tigers, bears, and leopards walking around that one solitary man and hissing threateningly at him even while they obey."

"The one moment when I found my breath short was when the trainer made five lions lie down on the ground, and threw himself on his back upon them as though on a rug. He flung his arms out and caressed their great noses. I tell you, I didn't like him to let those beasts out from under his eyes."

"That was thrilling, I remember; but I felt for the lions sometimes, too. I didn't like to see them demean themselves. When one had to hold the end of a rope in his teeth and swing it to let a hound jump, it seemed rather small business to demand of the king of the forest."

When the two friends, stopping often by the way to watch some curious object of interest, reached the Japanese bazaar, they went in for a few minutes. By the time they emerged, the twilight had wholly faded.

"See your kings of the forest!" exclaimed Jack.

Mildred looked across the street. There in mid-air, apparently suspended like Mahomet's coffin, the iron cage above the entrance to the Hagenbeck arena was brilliant with electric light. Five great lions were within, and the strange effect, in the surrounding darkness, was heightened when the trainer, whip in hand, entered and closed the door behind him. In a shorter time than it takes to tell it, Jack and Mildred found themselves in the centre of an ever-growing crowd, all with upturned faces watching the wondrous apparition. The magnificent beasts glided lithely back and forth, watching the trainer, who, exciting them more and more by the whip which he cracked in the air, adroitly avoided being knocked down as they bounded about him, passing and repassing one another with increasing swiftness.

"A great advertisement," remarked Jack; then, as Mildred moved and turned her head, "Are you being uncomfortably crowded?" he asked.

"Never mind, it is worth it!" she said, rather breathlessly, as a big fellow, uncouth in his open-mouthed wonder, unconsciously shoved her against her companion.

Van Tassel drew her in front of him and placed his arm between her and the countryman. The latter still pressed, but feeling an obstruction firm as a bar of iron, turned his admiring countenance vaguely around toward Van Tassel.

"Well, I vum," he exclaimed. "Ever seen anything like that before? Wife and I never did. Them lions hangin' betwixt earth and heaven shakin' their manes at that feller, and he dodgin' around out o' their way as cool as a cucumber! It's wife's aim to tell the truth when we get home, and it's mine, too. It's both our aims; but we might's well lie. There won't anybody believe this."

"It is amazing," said Jack; "but you can see as well in one place as another. Would you kindly push the other way?"

"They're a-hunchin' us on this side too," explained the man; then continued to gape, oblivious of his surroundings.

The trainer placed a white and gold chair in the centre of the cage, and made one of the lions spring into it. The creature placed its powerful forepaws on the chair-back, and waved its graceful tail from side to side. Another of the beasts reared on its hind legs high above the trainer's head, resting its paws against the iron bars; and its roar resounded through the crowded street.

The trainer motioned the sitting lion from the chair, shot a revolver twice into the air, left the cage, and lo! the wondering spectators were gazing into blank darkness.

"Another dream over," said Jack into the ear so close to him.

The tightly hemmed-in mass of humanity slowly dissolved into its integral parts.

"They ought to have a packed house after that," remarked Mildred.

"Shall we swell the number?"

"Not unless you wish it."

"I don't. I wish something else very much. Will you answer as meekly and civilly when I ask it?"

They had begun again their walk eastward.

"I don't know."

"Oh, that is not encouraging."

"It is wise, though. I was brought up never to be afraid to confess that I didn't know a thing."

"I want you to go with me in a gondola. Compare my humility with Robert Page's sang-froid."

"A gondola will be even more difficult to catch by this time than a horse-car," suggested the girl.

Jack looked at her, but her piquant smiling face taught him renewed patience.

"Then you will not run much risk in promising," he answered. "Shall we leave it to Fate to decide? If we find a gondola easily, will you go?"

"Yes, indeed."

As they left the Plaisance and came around the Woman's Building, a sun-burst of fire in the east illuminated the sky.

"A salute to royalty," said Jack. "Queen Mildred has arrived."

The white light faded, to be followed by dazzling green, ruby, and gold, as one bomb followed another, to burst above the lake and cast abroad in the heavens fountains of jewels that rained down in glittering showers.

"Now, let us see if Fate is good-natured," said Van Tassel, leading his companion toward the nearest gondola-landing. A graceful willow hung above and obscured it.

"I must laugh at you, Jack," said the girl, suiting the action to the word. "The idea of expecting to find a gondola now, way over here."

"Stranger things have happened. Suppose," suddenly standing still and looking down into her eyes,—"suppose you should say that you wish it. Just for luck, you know."

"I never wish for impossibilities."

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"Well, I try not to."

"But wish for this. You know it is possible to have strawberries in January."

"What a great boy you are still, Jack. Very well, I wish that two gondoliers may have been attacked by an unusual access of laziness this evening, have denied their craft to all applicants, and skulked over here away from the crowd, and that they may be waiting for us now in the shadow of the willow. Any more midsummer madness you would like me to indulge in?"

Van Tassel led her down the bank. "Behold!" he said. "Mildred, what a witch you are! This is necromancy."

The girl stood with lips parted, for the waiting gondoliers sent their graceful craft to her feet. She put her hand in Jack's and stepped within. In a moment Van Tassel was beside her, and they had glided away.

The lagoon rippled in a light breeze. Along the edge of Wooded Island the sedges dipped in the waves. Here and there on the bank a group of water-birds showed white, as a neighboring electric light touched the soft plumage beneath which their heads nestled.

Jack wanted his companion to speak first, but she kept silence long.

"Is the sorceress enjoying herself?" he asked gently, at last.

Mildred returned his gaze as she leaned back in her cushioned corner.

"I am a philosopher," she answered. "I am being kidnapped, but I might as well enjoy it."

"Well, that is pretty good. I should say"—

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say. I am convinced that you are the most designing creature alive. Ask your minions to sing, please."

Jack longed that he might know the thoughts that flitted white-winged through his companion's mind as their boat glided on, to the gondoliers' song.

This ceased as they entered the Court of Honor, grown dusk now in preparation for the second playing of the electric fountains. Half the weary sightseers had gone home; no black crowd lined the railings around the Grand Basin.

The rainbow jets sprang triumphant skyward. An invisible orchestra lent their colors richer meaning and beauty.

"Do you remember the song that Clover sang last night?" asked Jack, leaning a little toward his companion. "It suddenly came to my mind then as the water shot up. Those lines,—

'I share the skylark's transport fine,

I know the fountain's wayward yearning,

I love—and the world is mine!'

Clover says that is a man's song. I don't agree with her. A woman may be angel enough to feel divine fullness of content simply in loving; but a man who loves must be loved again, or else feel that nothing is his,—nothing; there is no beggar so poor as he. Isn't it so?"

The earnest tone thrilled close to Mildred's cheek. She caught her breath quickly. "I—I don't know," she said, nervously surprised.

"Still true to your bringing up," remarked her companion, controlling himself with a strong will as he felt her shrink, and leaning back with a short laugh. "Not afraid to say you don't know, when such is the case. Well, I can only speak for myself. When I love and am loved I will agree with the poet,—I would even sing with her if I could:

'For soft the hours repeat one story,

Sings the sea one strain divine,

My clouds arise, all flushed with glory,

I love—and the world is mine!'"

Mildred was startled. What a lover Jack would make! He was not Clover's. She was sure of it now, but the thought brought no elation, rather a new, timid humility, which made her seem strange to herself.

She felt her companion's dark eyes upon her, and her usually ready tongue was mute.

Van Tassel did not know whether to gather courage or alarm from her silence as they sat there side by side. The gondoliers slowly propelled the boat, keeping in view of the fountains' tossing banners of liquid light.

"Tell me what you are thinking, Mildred," he urged, at last.

"I am not thinking. Do you ever come to such times? I do always in this spot. Perhaps it is because I have no thoughts to match such unearthly beauty. At all events I never think, here. I feel. I absorb."

"Yes, that is it," answered Jack simply.

"Give me the Peristyle," said Mildred, "and what I can see from it, and sweep all the rest of the Fair away if you like. I don't love many things in this world beside Mildred Bryant, but the Peristyle is one of them."

It was a novel speech from her, and in a novel tone. The low cadence of her voice had lost the laughter or imperiousness which usually characterized it.

Jack was silent for a time. "Are you warm enough?" he asked at last.

"Yes; but I think we had better go home."

"Aren't you comfortable?"

"Oh, certainly, and it was very kind of you, Jack, to take so much trouble."

This gentleness alarmed Van Tassel more than any amount of coldness or impertinence would have done; but he fought off dejection.

"I have given you one thing, then, that you can't hand on to Clover," he said lightly.

The fountains leaped a last time and fell, dropping lower and lower, till only the white sea foaming about Columbia's barge was left. Soft radiance again lit up water and sculpture.

Mildred longed to be at home; and soon she and Jack entered a wagonette at the Park gate and were driven to the house. When they arrived, the orchestra at the hotel was playing the music of Carmen.

"There is a delicate compliment to you, Jack," she suggested, as they ascended the steps.

"Yes; but must you go right in?" for she showed symptoms of leaving him.

"It has been a long day," she answered, lingering with an unusual gentle compliance from which he gathered no hope.

"You are tired," he said, with tender contrition. "I have had you so long, and yet—when should I be ready to let you go! Oh, Mildred,—is it any use?" he burst forth suddenly, in a low tone, seizing both her hands and holding them with painful tightness.

A fluttering and wild, loud peeping came from the tangle of vines near which they stood, and a small dark object half fell, half flew down past their heads to the grass below.

Mildred started. "It is Electra,—a falling star." She laughed nervously. "I am glad she fell, else I might be crying now instead of laughing. It would be such a serious unhappiness to me if I should cause you pain, Jack," she added brokenly. "You are so different from anybody else."

"I am answered," he said briefly and steadily; but he did not loosen her hands. "I am going to ask a great deal of you now, Mildred. Can you forget what I have said?"

"I—I am afraid not."

"Please try to; I will help you."

"Help me?" repeated the girl, bewildered.

"Yes, for everything between us shall be the same as before. To-morrow morning you will say to yourself that you had a dream. That is all."

"Very well." The girl regarded him questioningly. "I hope you are not—are not thinking that I might—might speak of it?"

Jack threw his head back and gave an excited laugh before suddenly growing grave and gazing ardently into her eyes.

"Speak of it? What would it be to me, my darling, if every one knew," he said with swift ardor. "I love—but the world is not mine. That is the whole story, and the only peace for you is to forget it."

Her head drooped under his look.

"I am dreadfully tired, Jack," she said faintly.

"Yes, dear, go, and forgive me." He kissed her hands passionately and released them. She passed into the house, her head and heart pulsing. Bewilderment was her chief sensation. The finality with which Jack seemed to accept defeat was so at variance with his manner.

She stole upstairs silently to her room, closed the door, and turned up the light. Then she went to her mirror and questioned her own pale face with wistful eyes.

"I haven't expected it. I didn't know it was coming this time," she said, answering some thought. "Is Jack really so unselfish as that? Can he care for me enough to—and then cover his disappointment with gayety to save me pain?"

His loving words rang in her ears, her hands still felt the wild pressure of his, and the warmth of his kisses. No one had ever received failure so before. No man had ever dared to call her "darling." A look that was almost fear came into the eyes that gazed back from the mirror. How had Jack contrived to make himself seem victor instead of vanquished?

He had not even pressed his suit; he had not begged her to try to love him. How nobly he had spared her,—but how audaciously he had treated her!

The color was flowing back to her cheeks. Mildred could no longer study that face in the glass. She turned away, weary, perplexed, troubled by the restless beating of her heart.

"I will get to sleep as quickly as possible. He told me to believe it a dream. I must try to take it all as Clover would."

The thought of her sister was like calling up the image of a saint. She had not been the object of Jack's adoration, after all. How strange, strange! How much better it would have been for him. Not that Clover would have married him, but it would have been good for him merely to love her. Fevers, perplexities, could not come where Clover was; and with this thought came a great longing to breathe Clover's cool, wholesome atmosphere. Mildred slipped into a wrapper, and without pausing to think further, crossed to her door. There was but a dim light within.

She spoke her sister's name very softly, not to wake her if possibly she might be asleep; but Clover herself in an instant opened the door.

"I thought I heard you come in, Milly."

"Why, what are you doing here, all dressed, in the dark?" asked the younger, entering.

"Thinking." Clover laughed. "It sounds amusing, doesn't it; but the music was pleasant and my window especially enticing. I felt rather tired when I reached home a little while before you, and meant to be asleep by this time, but here I am, you see."

"Let me come and think too," said Mildred; "or rather, let me come where I can't think."

The two sisters sat down in the large bay window overlooking the lake.

"Haven't you had a pleasant day?" asked Clover.

"I've had all sorts of a day. How has yours been?"

"Delightful."

"You are my despair, Clover. Things are always delightful to you."

Clover heard the depression in her sister's voice, and wondered; her thoughts flew to Jack too, and she questioned what mood the day might have left him in. "Oh no," she answered, "but those nut-brown maids in the Javanese theatre would put any one into good humor. When they dance, you can no more help laughing than if you were being tickled with a feather. Such dear, cunning, absurd motions as they make, their little bits of mouths looking so serious all the time."

"You take such an interest in everything," said Mildred wistfully. "It is because you have 'a heart at leisure from itself.' I have never longed for that sort of a heart as I have to-day. For quite a while it has been slowly dawning upon me that I am more self-centred than most people; but to-day Gorham Page gave me the final blow."

"Mr. Page? Why, you astonish me. He has a high opinion of you. He was saying to-day how much deeper and more earnest you were"—

"For mercy's sake," exclaimed Mildred, flushing to her ears, "don't tell me what he said!"

"Why? Are you too conscientious to accept a compliment when you haven't a 'trade'?"

"I have plenty of 'trades.' Jack never talks about you without using superlatives."

"Dear Jack. He is far too appreciative," returned Clover, wishing it were light enough to see how her sister accepted this; "but you haven't told me how Mr. Page hurt you."

"No, it was the truth that hurt me."

"Mr. Page is a very good representative of that," smiled Clover.

"We were coming out of Old Vienna, and you and Jack fell behind to speak to one another, and I addressed Mr. Page. He looked at me vaguely, and answered at random. Well, it was the way that trifle affected me that made me see Mildred Bryant as I had never seen her before. I was deeply offended, yes, angry, that the important favor of a remark from my lips should be disregarded. Oh, Clover, the disgrace of it!"

The speaker's voice was unsteady, and she suddenly covered her face with her hands.

Clover leaned forward and put a hand on her knee.

"Isn't it beautiful," she said earnestly, "to find yourself shrinking from sin? It is so safe to condemn it in ourselves. Hatred of evil is only treacherous when we feel it for the mistakes of others."

"The worst of it was that I knew I should have felt less injured had it not been that another woman was what was preoccupying his attention. He was thinking of you, and I resented it. I couldn't live if I didn't tell you. It proved to me that I was growing into a regular—oh, a regular octopus. Everything must be absorbed to feed my vanity, and especially every man."

"Why, Mildred, I am so glad for you," said Clover simply, her cool tones falling on the other's scornful heat and extinguishing its fire. "We have to come to these places, you know, for we mustn't be left in our badness, and a little light is let in at a time as we can bear it."

"But I can't bear it," exclaimed Mildred wildly, "for it is second nature to me to be vain and exacting."

"You won't indulge it now."

"Yes, I shall."

"Not so carelessly as before. All this is what comes into the battle of life. One part of our dual nature loves our evils and the other hates them. You can have God's help if you ask it, you know, and you will find how little and how deceptive the progress will be that you make without Him."

"Your battle seems won, Clover."

"I am in one of the peaceful places now, and I am very happy and grateful. I wasn't given your tempestuous nature, dear, so our experiences always are and will be different. The Father in mercy lets us develop as irresponsibly as the plants until we get such a glimpse into our souls as you had to-day; but then responsibility begins. It is sinning against light that warps and distorts us."

"I wonder if it would be good for me to be married," said Mildred musingly. "When girls are married, they haven't much time to think about themselves."

"It is good for every girl to marry when she truly loves a man who is unexceptionable," returned Clover, smiling at her own triteness. "But you remember the girl must ask herself, not Can I live with this man? but Can I live without him?"

"Then I should certainly never marry. You didn't do that, Clover."

Clover looked musingly out at the window. "No; I didn't do that. I often think of that little ignorant girl who married dear Mr. Van Tassel. I don't know whether I did right or not; but at the time I thought I did, and that is all I have any concern with; but I was not in freedom. You are in freedom. The Can I live without him? ought to mean Can we be more useful together than we could apart?"

"Why, you don't leave a girl any comfort in thinking about herself at all," complained Mildred, half in tears.

"There isn't much comfort in it, that is a fact," returned Clover, smiling. "You are tired, dear; go to bed now."

They rose, and Mildred took the smaller woman in her arms and their cheeks clung together. "I am unhappy, Clover," she said, with plaintive surprise at the fact.

"It is so restful," replied the other, "to think you have all eternity before you. Even if we only make a beginning here, it will be all right."

"I like your arms around me," said Mildred. "Let me sleep with you to-night."

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE HOTEL DANCE.

It was Gorham Page's habit to drop in at the Van Tassel house before making his nearly daily visit to the Fair.

One morning, as he ascended the steps, his sister met him. "I hoped you would come," she said. "I want to be condoled with. Robert's foot has descended. We are going home."

"Oh, I am sorry," replied Gorham, taking the chair she offered him; "but can't some arrangement be made?"

"No. Robert has said 'positively;' and when he says 'positively,' I never waste any more nervous force. Poor, dear boy, he wants to stay as badly as I do, but we have been here longer than we expected already, and after all I would rather go back than to give up the apartment and go to the poorhouse, which he says is the alternative."

"I must go to Boston before long," said Page. "Wouldn't you like to stay and go back with me?"

"Let Robert go home alone?"

"Yes."

"No, I thank you," with a firm shake of the head. "I shouldn't care for the Fair without Robert."

"That is nice," remarked Gorham, regarding her attentively. "I think I should like my wife to feel like that."

Hilda laughed. "Oh, that vague and shadowy wife of yours! Once I believed in her. Too bad that such a good-natured match-maker as I would have been should be burdened with such an impossible brother as you. I have lost all my interest in you, and have transferred it to Jack."

Gorham smiled pensively, and struck the palm of one of his hands with the knuckles of the other. "You think yourself very clever about Jack, don't you?"

"It goes without saying that I am clever, of course, but this occasion does not demand much insight. If they were a trifle more secret in their chats in corners and their exchange of masonic signals, I should think, perhaps, I was a treacherous guest to mention them; but they enjoy their little comedy, and are perfectly willing others should. I think it is unkind in them not to come out openly and allow me to give them my blessing before I go."

"I must say, Hilda, I don't enjoy hearing you use that tone about Mrs. Van Tassel."

"What is the matter with my tone?" asked Hilda.

"It is light," answered Page, with grave simplicity.

His sister stared a moment, then burst into laughter. "What crotchet have you taken now?" she asked. "Doesn't the match please you?"

"It is not a match. You are laboring under a false idea. If Mrs. Van Tassel should ever distinguish a man in the way you are speaking of, it will come to our knowledge in a different manner from the one you describe. We are talking in low tones in a corner now; but we are not sentimentally interested in one another."

"An unanswerable argument," said Hilda good-naturedly. "You needn't take the matter au grand sérieux. I am profoundly grateful to Mrs. Van Tassel, and think her one of the most charming women I ever knew."

Page's countenance, which had been grave to sternness, relaxed until, slowly smiling, he looked into his companion's eyes and beamed mutely upon her.

Hilda noted the change with private astonishment, and determined to experiment.

"She is so refined," she added after a pause.

"The perfection of refinement," said Page.

"And very graceful."

Gorham nodded. "It is a pleasure to see her move, is it not?"

"She has plenty of spirit too, and wit."

"Yes, indeed. In whatever company she is, she makes her mark."

"And it is never a black and blue one either," responded Hilda, passing her handkerchief over her lips as she returned the rapt gaze of the earnest face drinking in her words. "There is so much in that. Her wit could never hurt. Her uniform, considerate kindness is her most prominent trait."

"Yes," responded Page, faithfully antiphonal. "Only a pure, true heart like hers could prompt such behavior."

"There is a subtle charm and stimulus in her society."

"And a restfulness, a satisfaction. It is hard to word it, but you have felt it; you recognize it. One can only say, it is good to be in her presence."

Hilda pushed back her chair so suddenly that her companion started. "Gorham Page," she said, gazing at him with sparkling eyes, and rising, "don't you see what has happened?"

"No," he answered, removing his fixed gaze and pushing aside the vines, the better to peer about.

"Not out there!" exclaimed his sister.

"Oh," he answered mildly. "I thought perhaps Blitzen had killed Electra."

Mrs. Page burst into laughter. Peal after peal broke from her, and she clasped her hand to her side.

Robert appeared on the scene.

"It is time you arrived," said Gorham, vaguely smiling. "I haven't the least idea what ails Hilda."

Mrs. Page dropped her head on her husband's shoulder.

"Gorham thought—thought that—that perhaps Blitzen—had killed Electra," she gasped.

"How intensely amusing," remarked Robert. "This girl is tired to death, Gorham," he went on, patting his wife's convulsed shoulder. "She thinks she doesn't want to go home, but I know it is time. Mrs. Van Tassel urges our remaining. What a spirit of sunshine she is! If ever there was an angel in a house, she is one."

Hilda lifted her head, to look at Gorham's face. She found it beaming upon his brother with tender delight, and falling back she relapsed into another spasm of laughter.

"Stop this, stop this," said her husband, giving her a little shake.

"I am really afraid Hilda isn't well," said Gorham with concern. "I am sorry if she is too tired, for I wanted to see if you all wouldn't like to come over to the dance at the hotel to-night."

"That is sensible, profoundly sensible," remarked his brother. "What could finish off a day at the Fair more appropriately than a dancing party!"

"You've got to go, Robert," said Hilda, wiping her eyes. "It will be lovely. We will smoke on the piazza, and watch the others through the windows."

"Yes, I know how you enjoy looking on at a dancing party."

"Yes, thank you, Gorham, we will come," continued Mrs. Page relentlessly. "I shall just go down to the Court of Honor for one last look," she added, sighing. "I will go up in that little balcony at the corner of the Electrical Building, and gaze once more down the stately, spacious square. I shall see the peacock-blue lake through the columns of the Peristyle, look up into the Italian sky roofing all, and say my prayers or sing the doxology; then I shall come home and pack. Oh, Robert, how can we leave it all!"

That evening Jack entered the parlor and found Clover leaning back in an armchair. He dropped into a seat beside her.

"You look fitter to adorn some marble shrine in the White City than to decorate a humdrum, mortal home," he remarked, regarding her thin gown approvingly.

"I believe I never saw you before in a dress-suit," she answered lazily. "You look very neat, my dear. That is what mother used to say to us to suppress our vanity, when we were in festive array. It is rather amusing to see Fair pilgrims in evening dress, isn't it?"

"Where is Mildred?" asked Van Tassel, looking about.

"She will be here directly. If my sister were entirely costumed at any appointed time, I should be anxious about her."

"I haven't had a chance to confess before," went on Jack, low and hastily. "I spoke to her too soon, after all. I need a keeper."

"Oh, Jack! I'm sorry."

Clover looked dismayed, and her tone was heart-felt.

"The milk is spilled, though; there is no going back. Didn't she tell you?"

"No, indeed. When did it happen?"

"The night we took the gondola ride."

"Days since, then. You are a wonder, Jack. Are you going to stay here and live it down?"

"I am going to stay here if you will let me."

"Let you? It is your home. Oh Jack, I am afraid of your tone. You haven't given up. I must tell you, though, that Mildred would be honest, uncompromisingly honest, in a serious matter like that. She is not a coquette."

"I know it."

"If she doesn't love you, you do not want her."

"I don't know whether she loves me or not, and I don't believe she knows any better."

As his handsome, frank eyes looked up at her, Clover's heart swelled with the approval and admiration she felt.

"We must relax to it," she said involuntarily.

"Or brace up to it," he replied, with his brilliant smile; "but it is too late now for the Petruchio act, Clover. I have literally and figuratively given myself away."

"Yes," said the other simply; "what you have to do now is to leave her in freedom. The Lord loves you both alike. If He does not give you Mildred, it will be because that marriage would stand in the way of your real advancement."

"Do you really believe that?" Van Tassel regarded her in curiosity and surprise.

"Why, Jack, think it out some time. How can it be any other way?" she answered, speaking hastily, for she heard a rustle on the stairs; and a moment after her voice ceased, Mildred came into the room.

She was dressed in a pale violet gown, which revealed her superb neck, and she pulled long gloves up over her bare arms as she came.

Jack sprang to his feet. How could she help liking the homage in his eyes?

"I know I haven't kept you waiting," she said brightly, "for Mrs. Page's light is still burning, and of course it will take her some little time to wake up Mr. Page."

Hilda's feet, in their little black satin slippers, came flying down the stairs as she spoke.

"Is Robert in a hammock?" she exclaimed apprehensively. "I meant to stick them both full of pins, but I haven't had time. That poor dear man has done a lot to-day, in spite of all my warnings. I expect he will sleep from here to Boston, when we get started. You two girls look perfectly lovely. I shall wake him up with that information."

As they were all finally setting out, Gorham Page came up the walk.

"I thought I would wander down and make sure of you," he said to Clover, as he turned back beside her.

"You were sure of us," she returned. "I have not danced for five years. It seems to me I should never have thought of it again but for your invitation."

"You do not care for the amusement, then?"

"Clover Bryant used to care greatly," she said, smiling; "but perhaps Mrs. Van Tassel has forgotten how to dance."

They found the long, spacious piazza of the hotel gay with promenaders.

Robert Page groaned. "How marvelous is the endurance of man and woman kind," he remarked. "How many of these people do you suppose have been doing the Fair to-day?"

"You mustn't talk about the Fair," returned his wife. "It is fortunate for you that the diversion came up, else I should have spent this evening weeping because I have said good-by."

"Have you come over here with the notion that I am going to dance?" asked Page mildly.

"No, I haven't the least idea you will. I wouldn't ask it, since you were foolish enough to tramp miles to-day."

"How could I help that, my dear, with the awful 'last chance' sensation hanging over me?"

The orchestra in the hotel parlor began to play. Jack Van Tassel came up to where the husband and wife were sitting.

"Are you going to dance, Hilda?"

"Apparently not," she answered gayly.

"Give me this, won't you?"

"Oh, you don't need to. Why, where are Mildred and Clover?"

"They are sitting over yonder. They have many friends here. It seems to me this is rather a peculiar way for you to treat my invitation."

"No, Jack," said Page, with a heart-rending sigh. "The old man will have to dance once. 'Let it be soon,' as the song says. Come, my love, weary and footsore, let us tread the dreamy maze together."

"Robert really wants to dance," said Hilda to Van Tassel confidentially. "The music inspires him. I haven't the heart to refuse. Thank you. Perhaps later we can have a turn."

"Now, wasn't that sweet of Jack and exactly like him?" asked Hilda, when they had drifted in among the floating couples. "He was afraid you were going to be immovable; and the very first dance, when of course you would suppose he would ask Mildred"—

"Or Mrs. Van Tassel, according to your theories."

"My dear, I am shaken on my theories. I may have been wrong. I hope I have been. What do you think, Robert?"

"I can't tell any of my thoughts while I am dancing, Hilda. Don't ask it. If you do, I shall probably step on your foot. I have the greatest sympathy with the man who, when his partner insisted on talking to him in a round dance, replied as follows: Yes, two, three; one, no, three; one, two, yes; and so forth."

"What a goose you are, dear; but you dance as well as you ever did, if you have forgotten how to say sweet nothings during a waltz."

"Pray remember how much more breath I used to have. The spirit is willing still, but the flesh is too many for me."

"There go Gorham and Clover," said Mrs. Page with some excitement, pausing in the dance, and taking her husband's willing arm. "Robert, I want you to watch Gorham to-night," she added impressively.

"More mysteries?" returned Page plaintively. "I don't see anything out of the way about him. He is rather stunning in a dress-suit."

"I wonder if Clover thinks so," responded Hilda significantly.

"Oh, you are only marrying him again," remarked her husband, with an air of enlightenment. "If all your plans succeeded, I don't know what would become of Gorham. He couldn't even take refuge in Utah, for I understand the Mormons are discouraging plural marriages."

"You can chaff, Robert; but mark my words, some day you will look back to this evening and exclaim over my cleverness. I haven't told you all I know. I have proofs, if I chose to"—

"Yes, my dear, your fate is the common one of those who cry 'Wolf' too often. I've heard your proofs before." Then squeezing his wife's hand against his side, he added, "There isn't another Hilda for poor Gorham, so how can I take a breathless interest in his prospects?"

Mrs. Page was mollified, of course; but she shrugged her shoulder. "I don't understand how you can see those four people together and not weave romances. Now, for instance, I am burning to know why Mildred and Jack are not dancing this first dance together, instead of with Lieutenant Eames and his cousin. I dare say poor Jack lost his chance by coming to take care of me."

But Hilda was wrong. A little circle of friends had gathered about Clover and Mildred as soon as they appeared on the hotel piazza, and Mildred saw at once in Jack's quiet withdrawal that he did not intend to ask any favor for himself. She liked this in theory, but it half-vexed her to find herself alertly cognizant of his every movement even while she chatted and laughed with her other friends. She saw him approach Hilda, and wondered if he were asking her to dance; then, when the latter moved away into the hotel with her husband, Mildred talked volubly to Eames in order to prevent his having an opportunity to offer himself for her partner. These dances were informal. There were no printed programmes. She wished to give Jack time to return to their group and claim her before the lieutenant should.

How exasperatingly deliberate his motions seemed to her, as he sauntered along!

"I can easily believe what you say, Mr. Eames," she said glibly. "The papers print a great many of the amusing blunders that are made, and I am sure they are not exaggerated, by my own experience. There were two women standing near me in front of the Manufactures Building the other day, and one said to the other: 'Oh, look at that big statute of Liberty; do you suppose it's solid gold?' 'No!' replied the other scornfully, 'it's holler. If that was solid gold it would be worth ten thousand dollars.' Then this sophisticated one turned to me. 'Can you tell me where the Court of Honor is? Is it in the Administration Building?' I answered that this was the Court of Honor, and I suppose I gestured generally, for she looked down at the Basin and then at me with a pitying smile. 'Oh no,' she said, 'that is the lagoon.'"

Why would Jack stop to look in at the window? How slow he was! "Oh yes, and, Mr. Eames, was there any truth in that story I read about the battle-ship? Somebody says, you know, that although it looks so solid and impressive, an angry man could do it considerable damage with a crowbar, and I read lately about some country people who were visiting it. While they were exploring, the ship's bells rang, and coincidently the whistle of a neighboring tug began to blow. The story said those poor people thought the boat was going to start and rushed for the gang-plank, panic-stricken. One man fell into the water, and a woman broke her ankle. It ought not to be amusing, but it is."

"Ha, ha," responded Eames, "there is a grain of truth in it;" (Jack was drawing near) "the rest is the reporter's imagination. I can tell you what was the foundation of that yarn." (Jack approached and stood near the speaker.) "Won't you dance this with me, Miss Bryant, and I will initiate you into some of the methods of newspaper men as discovered by the officer-of-the-day at Jackson Park."

They moved away, and Helen Eames, who had audaciously escaped a would-be partner in the hope of this very event, fell to Jack's lot.

She was a vivacious, jolly girl, and a man was not obliged to talk much while with her, so Van Tassel yielded to her determination to detain him at her side as long as was feasible.

Mildred, promenading with her partner on the piazza after the dance, passed them sitting near the water where one could see, down the curve of the lake, the fireworks of the White City bursting in starry brilliance. Far out upon Michigan's breast shone a row of steady lights, beside which, as on a liquid boulevard, the illuminated passenger-boats plied up and down.

Van Tassel was playing with his companion's fan, and laughing as though he were well entertained, at the moment Mildred passed by.

The sight did not please her.

"It is all my monumental vanity," she thought. "I am glad Jack isn't one of the sort of men who stand around in corners and watch one tragically."

She had danced several times when Clover, left near her by Gorham Page while he went to bring her a glass of water, addressed her.

"You haven't danced with Jack once," she said, with hasty reproach.

"Haven't I?" Mildred raised her eyebrows.

"But aren't you going to, dear?"

"Not unless he asks me, darling."

Clover stared, then turned away to smile. She had not often seen Mildred in such an ill-humor.

"Poor, dear, unconscious Petruchio," she reflected. "I wonder if he is building better than he knows."

Here Page returned with the water, and she could say no more, even if she wished. Moreover, Gorham now addressed Mildred, to claim the dance for which the strains of the Washington Post March were already sounding assertively.

Jack had this two-step with Hilda, and when it was over he brought her to a seat near those which Mildred and Gorham had taken on the piazza.

"Mildred," remarked Hilda, "this young man does know how to dance."

Van Tassel bowed until the parting in his hair was visible.

"That is nice," returned Miss Bryant languidly.

"The fireworks are over," continued Hilda. "That awful word 'nevermore' is hanging over everything for me to-night. I meant to be out here to see the last piece, but I wasn't,—that superb volcano, or mine, or whatever name they try to describe it by. I want you all to think of me with compassion every time you see it hereafter. Where do you suppose Robert is?"

"Perhaps I ought to know," suggested Gorham. "I will hunt him up if you will allow me, Miss Mildred."

"I'll go with you," said Mrs. Page. "It is rather cool here to sit still after dancing. You will excuse me, Jack? I think I ought to let poor Robert off now, and take him home."

It was the first time Mildred and Jack had been alone together since the memorable evening.

"May I have the next dance?" asked Van Tassel abruptly.

"If you like," answered the girl carelessly. "Haven't you had enough dancing?"

"I haven't had any," he answered briefly; and Mildred told herself that the demon of her vanity had received what it craved, so warm a sensation of satisfaction stole around her heart.

"I thought I would make myself safe before one of your other friends espied you here; but if you are tired"—

"I am never tired—physically," said the girl, with a slow smile.

"I was only going to say that I would be content to sit out the next with you; although we have not danced together since that night in the boathouse." Jack smiled. "Do you remember what you told me?"

"Oh yes. You made that child very happy. She owes you a dance."

"These surroundings are strange. Have you been thinking of it?"

"Yes. Only last year this ground was a tangle of goldenrod and willow-trees. How many times we have gone bathing on that beach! It was as good a playground for jolly youngsters as could be imagined; and now"—

She paused.

"Now, the music has commenced," suggested Jack, rising. "In consideration of the manner in which I have effaced myself so far, you should allow our dance to begin promptly."

They entered the parlor by the door which leads from the east piazza. She put her hand in his, and they glided away over the polished floor among the pillars with their vine-like wreaths of electric lights.

Amid the scattering groups which, outside, watched the dancers through the windows, was one spectator who was seeing a conventional dancing party for the first time in her life. It had suddenly occurred to Robert Page that it would be worth the exertion of going after Aunt Love to see her view this pretty scene; and when Hilda and Gorham reached the front entrance of the hotel in their search for Robert, they found him ascending the steps with Miss Berry.

"The young ladies did ask me if I didn't want to come over, and I thought I should feel out o' place," she said; "but Mr. Page, he just made me, so here I am."

"Now, come to this window," said Robert, "and tell me what you think of that."

The others clustered around Miss Lovina, as she murmured and exclaimed in her surprise.

"I never approved o' dancin'," she said. "I never saw any before. Mr. Gorham, do you remember that hall in the New York Buildin'? That must be temptin' to young critters when it's lighted up, and the music's a-playin'. Why," eagerly, "see Miss Mildred and Mr. Jack. My, don't they go pretty! And there's Mrs. Van Tassel herself and some feller. Why," turning suddenly upon Gorham, "why ain't you in there dancin' with her?"

"I have danced with her twice," he answered. "I mustn't be a monopolist, although it is a temptation. She is by far the best dancer here."

Upon this Hilda pressed her small satin shoe against her husband's foot, and he obtusely moved it out of her way.

"Well, I declare," exclaimed Miss Berry, gazing in ever-warming admiration, "if it ain't enough to make a body want to be young and pretty. To think this is the real, wicked thing itself, and I ain't shocked. What's the matter with me, Mr. Gorham?"

"Considering your prejudices and traditions, it is a little odd. Perhaps it is because you cannot associate an idea of evil with anything you see Mrs. Van Tassel engaging in."

Here Mrs. Page again endeavored to gain her lord's sympathy, with the result that he ejaculated: "Where would you like to have me put my feet, Hilda?"

"Why don't you go in there and dance, Mr. Gorham?" pursued Miss Berry.

"Am I so young and pretty that you want to see me? Well, if Hilda is willing to favor me."

"Oh certainly, so long as Robert doesn't care to go home. Au revoir, dears."

"Now, then," Aunt Love turned upon her companion argumentatively, "are you perfectly willin' a man should put his arm around your wife's waist?"

"On the contrary, I should object seriously."

"How about that, then?" Miss Berry gestured toward the hall.

"For a man to place his hand on a woman's waist to steady and support her is not to put his arm around her. There are too many other things for a couple to think of in guiding themselves successfully through a crowd of dancers to allow of their usually being conscious of the intimacy of their position. Don't be afraid to admire the dancing, Aunt Love. It can be abused, like everything else; but it is an excellent exercise, inculcating grace, strength, and good manners."

"Well, now, I'm goin' to tell some folks I know what you say. Ain't your wife just as light as a fairy, and don't your brother look handsome to-night? No, sir, there ain't any folks here as good-lookin' as ours."

When the waltz was finished, Gorham Page and Hilda approached Clover and told her that Aunt Love was without. She excused herself from her partner to go with them, and soon afterward Gorham walked home with her.

"Thank you so much for coming," he said, when he was bidding her good-night.

"I am sure we have all to thank you," she answered. "Isn't it hard to be reconciled to letting your brother and Hilda go? We have been such a pleasant party."

"Yes," returned Page, looking down at her as she stood in her white wrap, an unconsciously adoring expression in his eyes; "this summer is an experience that one could wish would never end. Going away," he smiled vaguely, "leaving you, having these weeks come to an end, is almost as difficult to grasp in prospect as the thought of death."

Clover laughed softly. "We won't borrow trouble," she said. "Good-night."

CHAPTER XXIV.

DRESS PARADE.

"Do you think Jack enjoyed himself?" asked Clover, when her sister crossed the hall to her room that night for the usual last word before retiring.

"I suppose he did. How anxious you are about Jack all the time! You make an absolute fetish of him. It used to mislead me."

"Did it?" Clover smiled, and turned back to her dressing-table.

"Yes, indeed, and no wonder. It is a good thing, however, that I was mistaken, else I'm sure there would have been coffee and pistols ordered for two. I want your opinion, Clover, on a delicate question. Supposing a man of some strength of character spends a whole evening at a dance following about after a woman, smiling pensively at her face, or the back of her head, or her shoulder, or whatever of her he can get to smile at, and finding spots of vantage from which he can behold her dance when he is not dancing with her himself. Supposing he flies about to bring her glasses of water, and wraps, and fans, and performs all the other offices which are usually the privilege of her partners, driving said partners to the last pitch of exasperation. What, I ask you, is the matter with that man?"

Clover turned her tender glance upon her sister, marveling that the spirit of mischief could be so rampant in her eyes.

"Dear," she said reproachfully, "that man is very deeply in love."

"That is what I supposed myself," replied Mildred demurely; "but I wanted to be sure I didn't exaggerate."

"Too seriously so for you to make merry over it," continued Clover, shaking her head.

"Well, if you aren't a pair of you!" exclaimed Mildred, bursting into laughter, which she endeavored to repress out of consideration of the lateness of the hour. Then she seized her sister's astonished face between her hands and kissed her repeatedly. "I suppose there isn't another man in the world beside Jack Van Tassel, is there? How glad I am, I am not attached to him; I should be wildly jealous."

"Oh—let me go, Mildred. I didn't know you meant—I didn't know that any one noticed"— Clover was as red as her namesake, and looking everywhere except at her sister.

"Noticed! Why, my dear, he was a perfect spectacle. I fancy everybody in the room noticed except himself. He doesn't know what is the matter with him, either. He asked me once, when we were out on the piazza, if there wasn't some malaria here. He isn't able to sleep of late, and his appetite isn't right." Mildred went off into a peal of laughter.

"Hush. Do please hush, Milly," implored poor crimson Clover in an agony. "Supposing Hilda should hear you and come in. She will. Oh, please."

"He said he thought he should take—oh dear, I'm hurting myself—he thought he should take quinine!" Mildred wiped her eyes; "and I said—I was of the opinion—oh my! that something sweet would help him more; extract of Clover, perhaps."

"Mildred, tell me instantly you didn't say that!"

"Well, not quite so much as that; but he tempted me dreadfully."

"Go to bed, Milly. Go to bed straight off. It is late."

"All right; but isn't it funny?" pleadingly.

"No. I do not think it funny at all."

"Oh, you must; that big, absent man, vainly mooning around among his data"—

"Well, if you will only go away; perhaps—it's a little— There, I have turned the gas out. You will have to go."

"I am about to set up a Gorham to match your Jack," said Mildred irrepressibly. "I am going to see that you treat the poor man right, and help him diagnose his symptoms. I am going to give you reproachful glances and him tender ones. I shall have to tell him they're tender, though"— But here Clover succeeded in pushing her over the threshold and closing the door upon her.

The following day Mr. and Mrs. Page took their departure, the latter more reluctant than ever to leave so many objects of interest.

"Ain't it lonely without 'em?" said Aunt Love that night to Clover, after dinner. "I don't know but you'll want to ask Mr. Gorham over here to help fill up the gap," she suggested rather timidly.

"No, I think we won't disturb his arrangements," replied Clover quietly. "I suppose he can't stay here very much longer any way."

Miss Berry went to the back door to give Blitzen and Electra their supper, and arbitrate between them while they ate it.

"She won't ask him over. H'm!" she soliloquized, arranging two dishes of scraps, while the two pets barked and chirped expectantly. Then she seated herself on a step to watch their proceedings.

"That looks like it," she continued in her own thoughts. "Well, if this is what he's been waitin' for, thirty odd years, I don't feel to blame him. Now you get back, Electry. Blitzen ain't a-goin' to stand everything. Sometimes it does seem's if you had the most cheek of any critter in feathers. Well, look at that now!" for Blitzen, exasperated at a raid upon his plate, jumped at the chicken, who quick as thought hopped on his back, and clung to her perch by means of claw and wing while the terrier raced in a mad circle.