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 not been spoken to in that voice of calm authority since the Grand Duke flitted.

"Heavenly old place, isn't it," said Cointreau to Nyla, in the casual tone of an old friend. "I hope you are going to be very happy here. I shall make it my business to see that you are. What a pretty frock. The printed chiffons are delightful, especially on the slender figures. Have a gasper?"

"Why—thank you," said Nyla. "I'd love one, but I didn't know whether—in the palace"

"Bosh!" cried the surprising young man. "Palaces are made to do what you like in." With skillful legerdemain he snapped a match into flame on his thumbnail, a trick new to her, and gave her a light.

"You have no objection to a pipe?" he asked, taking out a well-glossed briar. "Isn't that a beauty," he said, holding it out to the President. Guadeloupe, with the habit of the seasoned smoker, took it, sniffed the fragrant char in the bowl, and then produced his own.

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 "Now to business," proceeded the visitor. "Herr President, you'll forgive my abrupt entrance when I explain. The Department of Public Safety realizes that hitherto insufficient precautions have been taken to safeguard the persons of high officials. Particularly at the present time, in this new phase of our political life, it is essential that no accident of any sort should mar the success of the Illyrian Republic. You know what unfortunate repercussion it would have among the Great Powers if any unpleasantness arose in our affairs. I am acting as a special agent for the Department of Public Safety, but I may as well add, entirely in confidence, that I have authority from certain people at Geneva—I feel sure I need not be uncomfortably explicit."

Geneva never had to be mentioned more than once to secure Herr Guadeloupe's anxious attention.

Cointreau resumed his winning gayety of manner.

"Please do not feel under any constraint,

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 Herr President. My affair is to see that you—and Fräulein Nyla also—are completely comfortable and at home, free to give all your attention to those political problems that confront our country. You are aware that there are those—I need not specify—who would be happy to see the new republic embarrassed. You must have perfect confidence. Consider me, if you wish, not as a mere Secret Service officer, but as a kind of social secretary."

"Why, Daddy," cried Nyla. "Hew wonderful! Just what you wanted!"

"An imperfect instrument, Fräulein," said the special agent modestly, "but at your service. I need hardly say, Herr President, that for the success of my mission it must be entirely confidential. Nothing further need be said than that I am here on private business from the League. For your own sake, aad to guard against any possible emergencies, it will be advisable to institute certain unobtrusive inspections of minor routine. We cannot afford to run any risks. It was for that reason that—too

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 unceremoniously, I fear—I felt it wise to make certain of the brandy. It was excellent," he added.

"It was my own," said Guadeloupe. "But indeed, dear sir, you lift an anxiety from my mind. This is a difficult position in which I find myself, and a little intimate assistance, properly authorized of course"

"Be quite at your ease!" exclaimed the special agent. "The last thing Ramsay Macdonald said to me at Geneva—you know Mac, I dare say; charming fellow—was, Do everything you can for Guadeloupe. It's very important be should make a go of it in Illyria, he and his lovely daughter."

Herr Guadeloupe, who had had hitherto much sterner monitions from the high contracting parties of Europe, was greatly pleased.

"That's very encouraging," he said. "Come, Herr Cointreau, since you approve the brandy, drink to the success of our young Republic."

They pledged it standing, with due formality.

"Herr President," said Cointreau, "if we

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 play our cards carefully, you shall go down in history as the man who put Illyria on the map."

"Oh, I know he will," cried Nyla, enchanted. "Daddy's wonderful, Herr Cointreau, and if only that awful American debt can be paid"

"Don't you worry a bit about the debt. That'll work out all right.—Perhaps I can help a bit there: I visited in America once, I know how to handle them. Now the first thing is to make sure that all the more intimate matters are comfortable. Everything quite O.K.?"

There was something infectiously reassuring in the special agent's clear jovial gaze, and Herr Guadeloupe, blowing a cloud of comforting tobacco smoke, began to feel that there might be some fun in being President after all.

"Well," he said cautiously, "do you suppose there would be unfortunate repercussions at Geneva if I did not dress for dinner every evening? As you know, I am a plain man, Herr Cointreau, and too much formality"

"Quite right, quite right," said Cointreau.

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 "When Herriot was premier in France the same problem arose. You remember what excellent political capital he made of his pipe and his shirtsleeves. Geneva will understand perfectly. In fact, Herr President, I was about to say, I think that if anything your present outfit is even a little unnecessarily conventional. Also, I was observing your trousers—perhaps you would do me the favour of standing a moment."

The President rose, and Cointreau diligently examined the garments in various perspectives.

"They have their virtues, I can quite see," he said judicially. "The cut is eminently republican. No one, I think, would suspect you of royalist ambitions so long as you wear them. Allow me, without being too intimate—the seat may be said to be roomy, meritorious in a sedentary garment."

Nyla broke into a delightful gust of laughter.

"Daddy thought that by tightening his suspenders a bit he could buck them up. Let's have a try."

"I'm afraid it's hopeless," said Cointreau.

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 "No, we'll tackle the stabilization of the florin first. That presents fewer complexities. For the Herr President I suggest perfect informality—knickerbockers or whatever you please. You must not agitate yourself about niceties of deportment. I'll take care of all that. Fräulein Nyla, I think, should dress for dinner, because youth and beauty are so well set off by decolleté."

"I had not supposed," said the President, "that the League would be so attentive to detail."

"What the League desires is gaiety. After these painful years a little guileless merriment will be the best possible tonic for business. The last thing Ramsay Macdonald said to me was, Tell them to be sprightly. It will reassure the foreign investors who are going to buy the Illyrian bonds."

"That must have been the next-to-the-last thing he said," observed Nyla.

"They have said so many things at Geneva, possibly I get the exact order confused.—I think

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 you remarked, Herr President, that that was your own brandy? In that case it would be wise, before we go any further, to be sure that the refreshment provided by the State is equally correct. You will understand that in the work of the Department we cannot afford to neglect any possibilities, however trifling.—Is there a bell? Oh, no matter"

He tapped vigorously with his pipestem against his empty glass.

"If you will kindly explain to your butler, we can make a beginning in our necessary inspections."

"This is Herr Cointreau, from Geneva," said Guadeloupe when Romsteck had been summoned. "He is here on diplomatic business of a private nature."

"I shall have to make a few precautionary examinations of the household routine," said Cointreau. "We will begin by interviewing the cellar-man. Send him in, and tell him to bring his inventory."

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special agent, after careful study of Karl's lists, thought that the 1865 cognac should be tested first. It proved to be of the finest possible bouquet, gentle, mellow, and volatile.

"I am greatly relieved," he said graciously. "To tell the truth, I had feared that during the confusions of reconstruction things might have been allowed to run down. I express my personal satisfaction' that the wine-steward is worthy of Farniente traditions." He dismissed Karl, who departed beaming.

"It is unfortunate," he added, "that there does not seem to be a cocktail shaker anywhere in the palace. I shall have to give the butler a lesson in the mixing of cocktails. I know, from experience in Paris and Geneva, how useful they are in coming to an understanding with

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 American diplomats. However, we can go into these matters more fully by and bye."

The President had by this time recovered some of his naturally sanguine spirits. He mentioned the onion soup problem to his advisor, who promised to arrange everything.

"Herr President," he said, "you can repose the most perfect confidence in me. Imagine me a kind of Colonel House, taciturn, farseeing and discreet. In fact you may call me Colonel, if you will. It adds to the dignity of the situation."

"My daughter and I shall be disappointed if you do not stay to dinner, Colonel."

"With pleasure. There is much to be attended to. To-morrow I will assure myself that the car is in proper order for your use and that the driver understands what routes are to be followed when you go through the city. The Department of Public Safety was often very anxious during the reign of the Grand Duke. He went about with such reckless freedom, drinking at cafes, meeting ladies for supper—you will not compel me to elaborate the theme. It

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 would be undesirable for your chauffeur to drive across wide open spaces, where bullets—but let's not be alarmist. It is only that I am personally responsible to the Department."

"Nonsense!" cried Nyla, giving her father a hug. "No one would want to hurt my adorable Daddy."

"Alas, Fräulein, the payment of the war debts implies heavy taxation; and heavy taxation always means a certain amount of gunning for statesmen."

"There's rather a nasty place in the Red Room," said Guadeloupe nervously. "A window where people used to hide and shoot at the Duke. You might have a look at it." He crossed to the mantel and studied the bullet holes in the panelling. He was relieved to see them well above the level of his head.

"These medieval houses are just full of hiding places," remarked Cointreau.

Herr Guadeloupe excused himself to go and unpack his official papers. Nyla was a little uncertain whether she was in the position of the

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 visitor's hostess or not, but his easy frankness made embarrassment impossible.

"Come," he suggested, "let's have a look round, What a stunning old place it is. This ballroom floor—perfect for dancing! We must have a little music presently. And the terrace—delightful place to cool off between dances. Something green, I was thinking"

"Something green?" Nyla did not quite follow the quick transitions of the special agent's mind; but she understood, of course, that men accustomed to dispatch complicated international business would live at a speedier tempo than the simple libertads of a rustic republic.

"For your frock. Something green, of an airy floating nature, and the stockings that are so popular in Parisjust now—thecolour of Camembert cheese—would be the very thing for dancing. A few Chinese lanterns, not too many, strung here on the terrace. And by Jove, how well a canoe would go on the moat."

Nyla was wondering, a little uncomfortably, whether her quite modest wardrobe was chic

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 enough to satisfy the exacting tastes of this connoisseur of modes. She was a charming figure as she sat on the old stone balustrade that bounded the terrace. The still water beneath reflected the pointed towers of Farniente and the great chestnut trees in the park.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I don't think I have anything in green. You are a most versatile person. Do you undertake the millinery details for all the new republics?"

Her touch of irony, if it was irony, did not at all abash Cointreau. His enthusiasm was irresistible.

"Few of the republics, Fräulein, have such reasons for enlisting one's codperation."

"I had no idea the League was so far-reaching in its organization."

"We try to give Service. You see, we've learned a great deal from the American experts who come to Geneva, One of the things Illyria needs just now is Publicity. We'll get some good photographs into the American Sunday papers, first thing you know the tourists will be coming

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 here in crowds. That'll be good for trade. You see, your father will be busy with parliamentary affairs, he can't possibly think of all these other things. I want to help him all I can.—And help you too, Fräulein," he added. "Even in palaces young women may get bored. Sometimes you may feel like slipping away to the cinema. We can go to see Douglas Fairbanks together."

Nyla was enchanted. The arrival of this attractive, experienced and sophisticated gentleman, so eager to assume responsibilities, seemed to puff away the secret anxieties she had felt as to life at Farniente.

"I do want Daddy to be a successful President," she said with girlish earnestness. "It's a terribly hard job. Of course his opponents in parliament are frightfully jealous, they'd do anything to spoil his record. He's so wonderfully simple and honest, he only thinks of the good of the country."

"Now don't you worry a bit," he reassured her. "We're all going to have a gorgeous time. You know, that lawn in front of the house would

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 be just the place for some of the old Mlyrian folk dances. I dare say we could get the chambermaids to put on their peasant costume and hop about. It would be just the thing to amuse any busybodies that float in from the Great Powers. Take their minds off the poor old florin."

A dim far-away pulsation had been softly discernible in the summer air; now, from the direction of the Pannonia Platz a burst of shrill music was unmistakable. It came nearer and resolved itself into the anthem of the Illyrian Republic. A young radical poet had sat up all night, during the recent Revolution, to put new ejaculations to an old national air. As a republican hymn it was completely successful, one verse extolled Democracy, one Freedom, and one the Proletariat (a difficult word to find rhymes for). A parliamentary committee had expunged the stanza levelled against Foreign Capital, which was considered tactless under the circumstances; otherwise the lyric had gone through with acclaim, and was now being sung on all possible occasions.

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 "Oh!" exclaimed Nyla, "it must be the Demonstration. Daddy thought he'd escaped it by coming early, but they've followed him here. His supporters, and the interviewers from the Labour papers. He was hoping they wouldn't come until he'd got a little bit settled. If those people from the New Freedom and the Folkvoice find him surrounded by uniformed flunkeys I'm sure it'll be bad for politics."

"Quick!" cried Cointreau, his eyes bright with excitement. "This is important. Hurry upstairs, tell your father to put on his old clothes. Get that housekeeper person, what's her name, Innsbruck, to call the maids together and have them wear their native duds. I'll tell Romsteck to roll out a barrel of beer on the lawn. I'll keep the crowd amused at the front steps until your father's ready. Tell him to bring his pipe. Hurry!"

With a flutter of skirts Nyla fled across the terrace.

Herr Romsteck, already sufficiently agitated by the events of the day, was in the hall won-

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 dering if the parade now advancing down the avenue of limes presaged another coup d'état. In the days of the Grand Duke gatherings of the rabble never approached nearer than the tall iron grille on the Pannonia Platz. The music sounded louder and louder, green and white flags fluttered above the throng. He looked anxiously at the cheerful envoy from Geneva, who strolled in from the salon, smiling genially. Romsteck could not account for the presence of this unexplained visitor, but he recognized the manners of one accustomed to command.

"Romsteck," said Cointreau, "this is a jocund moment."

"Jocund, sir? It looks like another revolution."

"A great proletarian celebration. The innocent high spirits for which Illyria was famous in the old days. Do you dance?"

"Dance?" ejaculated the major domo, horrified at such flippancy. "Not in public, sir; far from it, sir."

"But you shall," said Cointreau firmly.

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 "We shall all dance. It is important to impress the populace with our democratic simplicity. Geneva and the Great Powers expect it of us. For the sake of European concord, old son, you must lay aside that priestly dignity. We will have folk-dancing on the lawn, and you and Frau Innsbruck shall lead the revels."

Romsteck's orderly little world seemed to be turning topsy-turvy. He gazed inhospitably at the plebeian crowd already pressing into the sacred courtyard. They marched orderly and with respectful mien, an honest bourgeois procession, but now the band broke out again and the windows quivered.

"Get busy," ordered Cointreau. "Hop to it, or you lose your job. Have the cellar-man broach a cask of beer by the front steps. Tell the footmen to take off their coats and appear in breeches, with coloured kerchiefs. Come and tell me when the President's ready, before he shows himself, so I can introduce him properly."

Cointreau's first words, as he stood on the

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 front steps and gestured for silence, were a masterpiece of demagogic skill.

"Citizens," he said, "the President of the Republic"

Cheers.

"Will greet you himself"

Loud Cheers.

"As soon as he has finished his onion soup."

Terrific enthusiasm. The crowd enjoyed the allusion, flags waved, the bass drum was pounded, men shouted, women huzzaed, children squeaked.

"It would not be like Herr Guadeloupe to alter the established simplicity of his life because his fellow-citizens have put him here at Farniente to represent the Republic. He asks me to tell you that he wants this little celebration to be in the true Illyrian style. There will be cookies for the young, beer for the thirsty, and our old Illyrian folkdances on the lawn."

In all its long history Farniente had never witnessed a more cordial scene. Slopes of wester-

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 ing sunshine poured across the mossy roof of the palace, gilding the increasing crowd that came curiously hurrying down the avenue. Dogs barked and frolicked on the outskirts. Sentries laid down their arms and fraternized with the mob. Romsteck, in the worried conviction that all this meant insurrection unless the throng was pacified, hurried out the beer and produced baskets of pretzels and cakes from his secret stores. The Illyrian instinct for popular merrymaking, long repressed during days of disastrous war and political uncertainty, now blossomed in bright flower.

Cointreau kept the crowd together by a few cheerful and patriotic remarks until, just at the psychological moment, Herr Guadeloupe appeared, wearing a knickerbocker suit and puffing his pipe. The people shouted applause. Cointreau, taking a mouth organ from his pocket, led the band in another explosion of the national hymn. Guadeloupe, flushed with emotion, made a brief speech which was exactly the right sort of thing. His old knickerbockers and

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 the pipe warm in his hand lent him that ease of mind so necessary to the political orator. By the time he had finished, each of his hearers felt that it was by personal favour of the Deity that he had been born an Illyrian. The cheers were deafening and the barrel of beer was unbunged. The corps of maids, charming in short green kilts and red jackets, bare knees and white stockings, filed demurely from the service wing. The special agent, still playing the mouth-organ, seized Nyla as his partner and led off a foursome country dance with Romsteck and Frau Innsbruck. These worthies perspired with embarrassment and began the measure with stiff clumsiness, but. Cointreau's mouth organ and his comic zeal warmed them somewhat. The spectators, at first respectfully puzzled, gradually began to applaud. Then Innsbruck, slipping on a juicy bit of turf, fell rump-flat. The populace yelled and the ice was broken. Chambermaids, footmen, and the citizens themselves, joined in. A dozen different groups of dancers were formed, the band struck up peasant airs and yodels

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 familiar to all, and the President himself, seizing a stout matron, capered with gusto.

Colonel Cointreau circulated helpfully in the gay rout. The humorous cantata of his mouth-organ was heard wherever the mirth was thickest. Evidently his severe life as an international negotiator had not dimmed a simple human relish for comely females; he was seen footing an intricate morris with Lorli, Nyla's pretty tirewoman; he lined up the chambermaids to be photographed, amid much laughter and broad jest, himself slipping modestly away whenever a lens was pointed in his direction. When in the unusual exertion Frau Innsbruck burst some private reef-points and ruptured a garter, the Colonel was first to seize the tensile fragment and hail it as a tender trophy. It was so long since Frau Innsbruck's garter had had any publicity or been the object of competition or saltatorial strain that the housekeeper went moist and ruddy with pleased confusion.

"It's easy to see he's a real aristocrat," she confided to Romsteck as they withdrew from

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 active participation. "He's as lively as the Grand Duke. I wish he were President." She had a vague feeling that with so sportive a person around there might, even in a Republic, be some chance for the winsome intrigue that makes life tolerable to females. Even the scandalized Romsteck, gazing where Geneva's expert was now astride the beer-keg, hastening the flow by mouth organ madrigals, had to admit that the Colonel had done much to enliven the party.

The President also was not far from the beer, cheerfully engrossed in talk with the reporters, who wore the specially professional look of those who approve what they have seen and are getting ready to write a favourable story for the papers. Nyla, seeing her father's air of satisfaction, was thoroughly happy. The Colonel insisted on dancing repeatedly; in these country measures he was agile rather than practiced, but there was a pleasant quaintness in his figures and he had a piquant habit of uttering enigmatic phrases.

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 "Never go in for politics without a mouth organ and a pair of rubber heels," was one of these.

"Rubber heels?" she inquired, the next time the pattern of the dance brought them together for a few moments.

"An American invention," he replied. "Very useful for statesmen."

Presently they retired to a corner of the lawn overlooking the water. From a distance they watched the crowd now beginning to disperse, Herr Guadeloupe gaily shaking hands, the enthusiastic citizens breaking out into little ripples of cheering.

"I don't know how to thank you, Colonel."

"You don't need to call me Colonel," he replied. "I just suggested that for your father."

"What shall I call you, then?"

"Let's wait and see. Something may suggest itself. You can begin with Gene, if you like. Short for Geneva."

"You've given Daddy a wonderful send-off,"

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 she said. "I don't know what he'll do when you go back to the League."

"Oh, I shan't go back. They expect me to stay here and keep an eye on things.—On people, too," he added, looking at her with cheerful admiration. "I have quite an eye for the picturesque."

"Are you really an Illyrian?" she asked. "You're so different. Your accent"

"I've been a great deal abroad."

There was a brief silence.

"You know," he said, "I had intended simply to make a daily inspection, to make sure that everything was O. K. But I can see that the situation is unusual. I believe it would be wiser to take up quarters right here in the palace. Then I should be on hand in case—well, in case I could be useful. Suppose you fell into the moat, for instance. The Department of Public Safety has to guard against all sorts of possibilities."

"But I can swim. Besides, I don't believe it's deep."

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 "We'll go out one of these days and see. There's an old punt down there that'd do for a canoe."

He vaulted lightly to a seat on the licheny old bastion and played a gay little strain on his mouth organ.

"We might compose a moating song," he reflected. "Something like this."

He improvised a few insinuating bars.

"A new kind of sea chantey, the moating song. Sentimental ditty: If you and I were moating, Beneath the old château—" He paused, hunting a rhyme. "Let's see, boating, coating, doting"

"And idling there and floating," she suggested.

"Good girl! Say, you're a poet. And idling there and floating In our petit bateau"

"We'd drift about, not noting"

"The taxes and the voting"

"For pleasures beyond quoting"

"Just you and I would know," he finished with delight. "Great stuff! We could write a new anthem for the Republic that'd beat that

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 other one all hollow. Now let's get the music right."

"You said I ought to dress for dinner. I'd better go and see if I've got anything to wear that you'd approve of. And if you're going to stay, how about your luggage?"

"Bless you," he said calmly, "it's here. I brought it with me. Tell old Rumpsteak to pick me out a nice room without any eastern windows. I hate to be waked up by the sun in my eyes."

The small wheedle of the mouth organ sounded gaily behind her as she walked across the lawn. The Colonel was perfecting his Moating Song.

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, whose acquaintance with men was limited, had never seen so unusual and charming a person. Colonel Cointreau's immaculate evening dress and his gay affable talk eased the embarrassments of the elaborate dinner table; even Herr Guadeloupe forgot to miss the onion soup for one evening. The Colonel complimented Nyla on her frock, patted her arm eneouragingly as he escorted her to the dining room, and tutored the President in the choice of forks and spoons with such unobtrusive grace that no one could have been offended. Indeed in another land one would have said that the Colonel had been raised from boyhood on the Book of Etiquette and Twenty Minutes a Day with the Harvard Classics. He restrained the President from tucking his napkin into his

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 collar, deftly removed the bread-crust when Guadeloupe began using it to sponge up the last of a rich gravy, and his gentle "I think the other spoon, Herr President" was like a parenthetical refrain in his fluent conversation. Illyrian table manners, as travellers have noted, are often a form of rapid transit rather than a social ceremony, but the Colonel was very patient. "You must remember the effect on our American bondholders," was his persuasive reminder when the President seemed a little restless under discipline.

After dinner Herr Guadeloupe was allowed to compose himself with his favourite game of patience, and three aces in the first row of cards helped to solace him. The Colonel, sitting with Nyla by candle-light on an old brocade sofa, remarked that the romantic and sentimental associations of Farniente were stimulating to anyone sensitive to such influences.

"History keeps repeating itself," he said, alluding to the gallant career of the Grand Duke.

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 "I don't suppose that matters," said Nyla, "as long as it repeats pleasant things."

Somehow they had embarked upon palmistry, which the Colonel said was often a valuable aid to statesmanship.

"This is so much pleasanter than the League headquarters at Geneva," he averred. "A dull place, full of card indexes and diplomatic dossiers, Now your hand, Fräulein, is obviously that of a loyal, frank and affectionate nature, full of generous impulses that should be encouraged. What a pity I could not have studied it long ago. I could have told that you were destined for high things. See how the life-line slants upward. I see a long life. There are at least sixty happy years before you, full of interest."

"Just about long enough to pay off the American debt," said the President. "You don't see anything there about a rate of interest higher than one per cent., do you? Because if so, we're done for."

"I see surprises caused by strangers from

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 abroad," said the Colonel, examining closely and tenderly. He was about to remark how beautiful the terrace would be in the moonlight when Romsteck brought in a telegram.

"Gott!" cried Guadeloupe as he read the message. "You're right. He's coming at once."

"Who?" exclaimed the palmists.

"The American. And not just acommissioner, a full-fledged ambassador. That means we'll have to put him up here, as a matter of courtesy, until he finds a house. Lord, I didn't suppose he'd come until we'd got straightened out. How can I explain that the new taxation isn't in effect yet."

"You'll have to keep his mind off financial matters until things are settled," said the Colonel. "We'll give him a big dinner and a ball. We'll take him moating. We'll sing him our moating song."

"Do you speak American?" asked Nyla. "Daddy and I know very little."

"Enough to get along with."

Well, you'll have to interpret for me," said

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 the worried President. "Good God, I must speak to the Finance Minister at once," and he fled to Farniente's one telephone.

Even the imperturbable Cointreau seemed a little troubled as he read the telegram that still lay on the card table. It said:—

"Worse and worse," said the President returning a few minutes later. "He's coming to-morrow."

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Cabinet, hastily summoned, met next morning in the Red Room with many controversial topics to discuss. As Herr Guadeloupe had feared, one of the puny gilt chairs proved unequal to the anxious shiftings of Herr Leutz, the obese Finance Minister. But even under Romsteck's censorious eye a broken chair was the least of the President's anxieties. Herr Leutz stayed to lunch, to discuss further details of the fiscal statements to be laid before the American ambassador, but Colonel Cointreau and Nyla were nowhere to be seen. The absence of his privy councillor, when events of such delicacy were toward, agitated Herr Guadeloupe.

The Colonel had risen that morning in the highest spirits and began his inspections with vigour. The President, who slept but ill that first

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 night in such unaccustomed quarters, had not finished shaving when he heard cheery whistling outdoors, and observed the Genevan sculling round the moat in the old punt. The special agent appeared at the breakfast board with a somewhat miscellaneous bundle of flowers and cresses that he had picked on the grassy foreshore of the stream. These posies, apologizing for their Ophelia-like aspect, he presented to Nyla. After breakfast he made a careful tour of the house with Frau Innsbruck, inquiring into everything with the liveliest interest and humour. In the kitchen he ingratiated himself with Pigalle and made suggestions as to the menu in honour of Herr Quackenbush. Upstairs he praised the linen closets, complimented the housemaids on their thoroughness in airing the beds, and somewhat startled Nyla by the experienced domesticity of his comments. He wanted to be assured that she had enough hangers for her gowns and that her dressing table mirror was in a good light. Then, suddenly admiring the clarity and brilliance of the

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 weather, he insisted that now was the time to make sure that the Presidential car was in good running order. He satisfied himself that the tank was filled with essence and dismissed the chauffeur. He and Nyla rolled gaily away down the avenue in the elderly but impressive limousine, on which the shield of Illyria was freshly enamelled over the erased coronet of the Grand Duke.

They had not returned by the time lunch was over, and the President was annoyed. Herr Leutz, moreover, had been a depressing companion. Like all conscientious treasures of an insolvent exchequer he had a hundred irrefutable reasons for the red ink in his ledgers: his remarks about the dangerous flatulence of the Illyrian currency were only too true. He obviously disapproved the luxury of the President's surroundings, and seemed with sombre eye to be mentally converting the Grand Ducal plate into new florins. Guadeloupe, sharpened by Colonel Cointreau into observation of such matters, noted that the Finance Minister was an

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 untidy eater and resolved that he must not be placed too near Frau Quackenbush at the state dinner. They might have given me, he reflected bitterly, at least one Cabinet member who could be trusted to make a pleasing impression on our foreign creditors.

As he escorted Herr Leutz to the door, Guadeloupe was thinking secretly of a nap. He was weary, and would need all possible freshness for the evening. Romsteck was not visible, and the President had a mental picture of stealing upstairs, removing his boots, and stretching out for a recuperative hour. But at that moment Lorli appeared, and curtsied charmingly.

"I'm sorry, Herr President, but it's time for you and the Herr Minister to take the dancing lesson."

"Dancing lesson?" ejaculated the President. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Colonel Cointreau left positive orders that after lunch you and Herr Leutz were to practise in the ballroom."

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 "Impossible," said Herr Leutz, making for the door. "I have sixteen different deficits to analyze."

"Colonel Cointreau said, Herr President, that interests of state absolutely required that both you and Herr Leutz should dance with Frau Quackenbush this evening."

"Old Pannonian deities!" exclaimed Guadeloupe. "What human being can practise dancing immediately after lunch?" But there was a look of such certainty in Lorli's pretty face that he felt himself crumbling. He laid hold of Leutz's coattails.

"Here," he said sharply, "if I've got to go through with this, you must too."

"The Colonel said, the League would expect it," announced Lorli respectfully.

"Double damn the Colonel," complained the resentful President. "Why isn't he here himself to help me? He said that was what he came for. Now he's off somewhere with Nyla in the only decent car. Leutz, if he doesn't get back in time you'll have to meet Herr Quackenbush at the

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 station, in the flivver. At any rate that will impress him with the state of our finances."

They followed Lorli like two guilty schoolboys. In the ballroom they found a determined-looking trio: Pigalle to play the piano, Frau Innsbruck to represent the Quackenbush, Romsteck to supervise. The major domo had already removed all small gilded chairs from Herr Leutz's access.

"Dancing of the ballroom sort," he said solemnly to his two pupils, "is very different from the rustic manœuvres we executed yesterday. Owing to the greater intimacy of personal contact, all the more grace of deportment is necessary. It was the Grand Duke's custom, in these affairs, always to begin by inviting any lady he specially desired to honour to accompany him in a lively fox-trot. For example."

He bowed magnificently to Frau Innsbruck, motioned to Pigalle who struck up some spirited and mischievous syncopations, and swam off with the housekeeper into a species of rotating pedestrianism with occasional sideways slidings.

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 To the President, who was totally unfamiliar with modern dancing, it seemed completely absurd. Frau Innsbruck's solid figure, moulded on the Queen Victoria contour, floated with genteel gravity in this antic demonstration.

"So," said Romsteck, bringing the lady to port alongside the reluctant chief magistrate. "Now the Herr President and the Herr Minister are to imagine themselves entering the ballroom with their partners. The music begins, they are off."

Even in this emergency Herr Guadeloupe's presence of mind did not wholly desert him. He felt that he would learn better with Lorli, so he moved to grasp her, intending to leave the housekeeper to the embrace of Herr Leutz. But Romsteck intervened. "With Frau Innsbruck, if you please. It will be better practice. She has the mature configuration, such as we may assume Frau Quackenbush to possess."

The music seemed terribly rapid to the two pupils as they struggled to imitate what they had seen. "One, two, three and four and one,

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 two, three and four and" counted Romsteck, pursuing them with advice. "The Herr President will control his impulse to leap and caper. Feet flat on the floor. A gliding walk, hollow back, stiff in the hips. If desired, just the least rearward oscillation of the pelvic region, to suggest enthusiasm. Not to excess however, Herr President, that would not be expected."

Innsbruck, thrilled in spite of herself by the honour of dancing with the President, tried hard to help him. He struggled nobly, with his eyes on his feet, but when he happened to catch sight of Herr Leutz's large boots shuffling miserably among Lorli's twinkling members the spectacle unnerved him. He lost count, faltered and came to a stop.

"It's too difficult," he said hopelessly. "Better for the debt settlement if I don't attempt it. I'll get Colonel Cointreau to do it for me."

"Once again, Herr President, by yourself, to get the rhythm," insisted the major domo, and Guadeloupe performed a lugubrious pas seul.

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 "The Herr President's trousers handicap him," commented Romsteck, walking beside him in his course and studying his morbid gyrations.

"Well I'm not going to dance without them, even for Frau Quackenbush," he retorted.

"That was not my suggestion," said Romsteck disapprovingly. "I mean that they impede by reason of their longitude. If the Herr President will permit" He rolled up several inches of the drooping tubes, and sent for some of the 1865 cognac to hearten the sufferers.

With this refreshment things went a little better. Taking advantage of a pause by Herr Leutz to mop his broad brow, the President cut in on Lorli; he found her more stimulating as a partner. Both pupils were busily treading the measure when a cheerful hail surprised them. Cointreau and Nyla entered, radiant with health and enjoyment.

"Bravo, bravo!" cried the Colonel. "Herr President, you are the soul of legerity. And the Finance Minister, treading with a toe of

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 swan's down: like a man walking on red-hot budgets."

"Your merriment is ill-timed, Colonel," said Guadeloupe peevishly. "I thought you came tc Farniente to help me, and here you have been absent for hours when I needed you."

"You mustn't be angry, Daddy," said Nyla, looking so sunburned and pretty that no one could have been. "We got lost in the hills. The Colonel was trying to find some goldenrod, it's a favourite American flower and he thought it would be a delicate compliment to Frau Quackenbush."

"Certainly more delicate than my dancing with her would be," said the President.

"A good thing we did go," remarked Cointreau. "The car was in terrific condition. The valves need grinding, the clutch is dicky, the steering wheel's loose, and she's simply crusty with carbon. We got the goldenrod though, a whole taxi full."

"Taxi full?" asked Guadeloupe.

"Yes," Nyla explained. "You see, the car

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 went bad at Laibach and we had to hire a cab to come home."

"From Laibach?" exclaimed the Finance Minister. "It's fifty kilometers!"

"It's quite all right, Herr Treasurer," said Cointreau hastily. "I arranged to have him send the bill to Geneva. Come then, to our affair. Music, please!"

Pigalle rippled the keys, and while the two unpromising pupils slithered heavily at their task the Colonel and Nyla hovered blithely about them, twirling humorous patterns round the small area in which the others plodded conscientiously. The pair swooped and skimmed like gulls around a group of wounded porpoises, and the indignant President, amazed at his daughter's grace, paused to watch. They danced almost as though they had been professional partners, and Cointreau, maliciously pretending himself to be Guadeloupe, called out suggestions as he and Nyla coasted to and fro. These suggestions he illustrated with appropriate action.

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 "Observe, Herr President, you are now dancing with Frau Quackenbush. A few perfectly simple rhythms to begin with, until Frau Quackenbush begins to enter into the spirit of the occasion.—American women are cold, and require wooing.—Then, as she begins to respond, your confidence increases.—You murmur agreeable impromptus, complimentary and insinuating, into her ear—which will not be far away.—This is your first visit to Illyria, Frau Quackenbush? We must make it memorable.—Then, venturing upon more complex figures.—Now, perhaps, when she melts a little you steer toward a quiet corner.—Surely, Frau Quackenbush, a great opulent country like yours will not be too hard on us in the matter of the debt? You will say a word in our behalf to the Ambassador?"

They came to a halt, Nyla rather flushed by the ardour the Colonel had put into his demonstration. Guadeloupe was just a little scandalized, and for a moment was the parent rather than the President.

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 "Here," he said sharply, "where did you learn to dance like that?"

"We practised a bit in the hotel at Laibach," she said. "While we were waiting for lunch."

Cointreau, enthusiastic as ever, was for having all the chambermaids summoned, to provide a realistic rehearsal of the evening ceremony. He also was eager that the President and Frau Innsbruck should attempt a Charleston together. But Guadeloupe had had enough.

"If Frau Quackenbush is to be melted, I leave it to you," he said.

"I should prefer to remain in the background. The League does not like its representatives to push themselves forward," said the Colonel with unexpected modesty. "Besides, I have a headache. I believe I overexerted myself testing the car. I was thinking of remaining in my room this evening."

"Heavens, No!" cried the President, aghast. "My dear Colonel, I can't get on without you. I absolutely count on you as my interpreter."

"If I appear," said Cointreau, "I think it

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 should be in uniform. A man looks much better dancing in some regalia."

"The Grand Duke left a whole wardrobe of uniforms," said Romsteck.

"Anything with a good splash of colour in it?"

"The dress uniform as honorary admiral in the Dalmatian Navy arrived just before the War. His Grace never had an opportunity to wear it."

"True," said the Colonel. "I remember that the Dalmatian Navy spent the War prudently in . I should have preferred a uniform with a more glorious record. However—blue and gold, with a cocked hat, will do very well."

"Choose whatever you like," said the President. "But remember I rely on you. And you promised to teach me a few American phrases of courtesy, that I can use when I run short."

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relations between Nyla and the Colonel had ripened prosperously during their outing. The President having gone off for his much-needed nap, these two explored the old north tower, and on the dark stairway the Colonel's arm stole protectively round her. The famous Purple Room, so-called from its rich wine-coloured hangings, was lighted only by a narrow casement in the six-foot stone fortification; it was a funereal place with a stale flavour of ancient orgy. The painted dado, perhaps fortunately, was scarcely visible in the dim light. The Colonel struck a match, but after one glimpse of Paphian distempers he extinguished it hastily. Always sensitive to psychic influences, he seemed a little depressed, and spoke gloomily of the difficulties of his career as an agent of international amenity.

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 "The trouble with this League of Nations work is, it's so uncertain. Here to-day and gone to-morrow."

"Don't say that," replied Nyla gently. "Besides, this is to-day."

"Geneva is so capricious. Sometimes I'll barely get started on a job when orders will come to buzz off somewhere else. You never know when some delicate situation will arise that needs expert attention. They push you round so suddenly, sometimes you don't even have time to say good-bye."

There was just room for two to lean side by side, rather close, in the wedge-shaped recess of the window, looking out across the quiet water to the groves of the park. Nyla sympathetically returned the pressure of his hand, and looked admiringly at his handsome clear-cut features, now clouded with melancholy. This was a new phase of the volatile Colonel. Evidently beneath his frolic humour there was a deeper side.

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 "One hardly has time to put down roots anywhere, really become attached to—to places or people—before he's moved on. And I have great capacities for putting down roots," he continued wistfully.

"But where there are roots there are flowers," said Nyla, hardly knowing what she said. This softness in a strong character moved her strangely.

"Not always. Sometimes just weeds, or poison ivy."

"But even if you had to go back to Geneva, that isn't so terribly far. The League would let you run up and spend a week-end with us now and then."

The Colonel shook his head hopelessly.

"They usually send me a long way off—Poland, Greece, Armenia where the massacres are. Even to North America."

"There must be some mistake. They wouldn't send you to places like that if they knew the sort of man you are," said Nyla adoringly. "Or perhaps they're jealous of you at head-

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 quarters. Probably some of the people there are afraid you'll get their jobs."

"Darling," replied the Colonel.

"It's surprising," he added presently, "how small-minded people can be. Some of those department heads at Geneva would deny my very existence if it suited them to do so. That's what bureaucracy leads to. But whatever happens, you must always think tenderly of—of the League," he said generously. "It is a very noble and complicated organization."

Poor Nyla was almost in tears.

"Gene, don't talk like that about—the League. You have put down roots; I can feel them growing."

The Colonel was not anxious to linger unduly in the Purple Room, lest the Grand Duke's murals become too visible.

"Let's see if we can find that secret passage," he suggested when she was a little comforted.

The door to the cellar of the tower was locked, but only with a padlock on a rusty hasp.

"No need to bother Romsteck," he said. "He

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 might not like our snooping about." He fetched a poker from the fireplace in the Purple Room and easily snapped the fixture.

The cellar, at the foot of a winding stair, had probably once been a guard room or storage place. The Colonel was amused to find carefully laid away several dozen of the old Burgundies which, according to Karl's manifests, had been exhausted by visiting plenipotentiaries.

"Ha," he said. "This entry can be regarded as legitimate inspection. I suppose I really should report it to the League; sequestration of supplies, contrary to the Treaty. However, we'll be lenient. You see, alas, why international agents grow cynical."

The safety valve, as the Grand Duke always called his secret passage, was so cunningly concealed that a less ingenious investigator might have missed it. They tapped and sounded the walls without success, but then the Colonel fell to studying the coat of arms, elaborately carved and painted, high over the huge fireplace. It was surmounted by a visored helmet.

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 "There's something queer about that visor," he said. Climbing on a chair he reached up to it with the poker. The piece worked on a hinge, he pushed it upward, and with a soft rumble the iron fireback in the hearth slid aside. Behind was a tunnelled opening.

"Fine stuff!" he cried triumphantly. "Forward, adventurers! Look out for your dress, Nyla, it's a bit sooty. Hang onto my coat-tail." He pulled out his mouth-organ and gave a lively rendition of the moating song.

The passage, solidly lined with stone, was pitch dark, moist, and draughty, but there was an old candle on the mantelpiece which he managed to shield with his hands. They groped cautiously through with no more mishap than a few mudstains. Eventually they reached a flight of stone steps where a crack of brightness showed above. A little vigorous pushing and the Colonel burst through a trap door. They were in a small summerhouse, discreetly screened by rhododendrons. Two hundred feet

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 away, beyond the moat, lifted the old silvery masonry of the north tower.

"Excellent," he said, rubbing the earth from his palms. "A little grimy for ladies, I fear. Now we'll go back and cover up our traces."

Nyla was eager to tell her father of their discovery, but Cointreau suggested that the President already had too much on his mind. "Let's keep this our secret, for the moment," he said. "People who work for the League are always stuffed with secrets. Now I think I had better go and try on that uniform."

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, refreshed by a good snooze, descended in a more hopeful mood. As he entered the salon, however, he halted in alarm, fearing another of those scenes of violence for which the palace was famous. Silhouetted against the tall windows was a menacing figure, with arms raised above its head and holding an object of dangerous shape. A bomb, thought the Presdent, and dodged hastily behind the high-backed sofa. But Romsteck, standing by seemed calm even if disapproving. Looking again, the President saw that it was Cointreau, glittering in blue and gold, with a sword in a scarlet sash and a cocked hat with a plume. Apparently he was in a state of violent passion: his arms were lifted and quivering as if in imprecation; he was agitating a vase

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 wrapped in a napkin, from which came a rattling sound.

"What ho!" said the Colonel. "How do you like the Dalmatian Admiral? Pretty nifty. I'm giving the Major his first lesson in cocktails. I got the shaker from the hotel at Laubach. They'll send the bill for it to old Leutz. I thought the Republic ought to own one."

He continued to brandish while the others watched in doubtful silence; then he poured three doses of pale yellowish fluid and held out two of them.

"Try that, boys," he said familiarly. "Where I come from that's supposed to be the River of Lethe at high tide."

"In Geneva?" asked the President innocently.

"Geneva!" exclaimed the Colonel scornfully, but then checked himself.—"Yes, exactly. Indeed, Herr President, the word gin is merely an abbreviation of Geneva, as any dictionary will inform. Why the very last thing Ramsay Macdonald said to me was, Teach them to drink

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 cocktails. It'll help them over many a rough place."

Guadeloupe and Romsteck drank, and were struck chiefly by the extreme icy chill of the draught. It tasted, they thought, rather like paregoric dimly flavoured with orange.

"It seems mild enough," said the President, holding out his glass.

"Only one to begin with," the Colonel advised. "I have seen European statesmen of the very highest rank, overconfident with this mixture, sign away whole provinces. No, Herr President, speaking as your adviser, if you desire to emerge from this negotiation with a whole skin, go easy on the cocktail. Myself, having less at stake, perhaps I may be permitted"

He poured himself a second and handed the shaker to the butler.

"Remove it," he said. "Bring it in again after the Ambassador's arrival."

"Major, is everything in readiness?" asked Guadeloupe.

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 Romsteck was well aware of the importance of the occasion.

"Yes, Herr President. The American shrub has been generously displayed in Frau Quackenbush's bedroom, and also elsewhere about the house. The staff have their instructions."

"It makes a pretty decoration," said Cointreau, admiring the sprays of goldenrod on the marble mantel. "Just matches my epaulettes. I also instructed Lorli to dress Fräulein Nyla in yellow, which will go well with these trousers. The sword must have been rather a nuisance to Dalmatian admirals. An awkward thing when you're trotting round a ." He removed the weapon and laid it on the table.

"And now, Herr President, suppose we run over our vocabulary while we can. Did you study the list of informal phrases I wrote down for you?"

Guadeloupe took out a sheet of paper and glanced over it anxiously.

"I tried. American seems an eccentric language."

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 "The Americans are an eccentric people. What would you say if you wanted to express to Herr Quackenbush that something had made a powerful impression on you?"

"Zat gived me a vhale of a kick," replied the President, whose American had a rich guttural and laryngic timbre.

"Excellent," commended the Colonel. "The very idiom. Anda phrase of admiration in honour of a lady whom you desired to compliment?"

The President pondered.

"I say, she is hot dog."

Cointreau shook his head.

"I tell ze vorld, she is hard-boiled."

"That might be true," said the tutor, "but not diplomatic."

"I say she have four flushes."

"Wrong again. We'd better go over this once more."

They were interrupted in their studies by Romsteck, who announced that the Ambassador's car was coming down the avenue. The President waited nervously, muttering phrases

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 to himself. Through the doors, open to the warm summer afternoon, they could hear the approaching whirr, but above this there rose shrill yells of distress. They looked at each other doubtfully.

"Is it possible that Frau Quackenbush arrives in hysterics?" said the Colonel. "This is ominous for the debt."

"I think it is a dog," said the President. "That same dog that followed me down the avenue yesterday. I recognize his voice." Troubled by this indignity he forgot his instructions, which were to remain in the Blue Room until the guests were ushered in. He seized the gilded sword of the Dalmatian Navy and ran briskly to the front door to drive off the intrusive animal.

But it wasn't the dog. Herr Leutz, pale with trouble, was climbing from the front seat of the government flivver, while inside the car Mr. and Mrs. Quackenbush strove to control a small girl of about nire years who was evidently in an advanced stage of weariness and bad temper.

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 "I don't want to go to another hotel," she screamed. "I'm sickantired of hotels. Take me back to Geneva."

"Don't smack her again, Ulysses," said Mrs. Quackenbush. "It only makes her worse. Hush, Treasure. It isn't a hotel. This is where the President lives."

The screams were halted by the surprising sight of Herr Guadeloupe popping out among the assembled footmen with sword in hand. "It is a hotel," she whimpered. "I can see the elevator man," and she pointed to the Dalmatian Admiral who had appeared in the doorway. The yells began again when Herr Leutz, after a piteous glance at the horrified President, tried to lift the child out of the car. Mr. Quackenbush seized her savagely and handed her to Romsteck who carried her in and deposited her howling on the floor. A truck, containing at least three times as much baggage as the President and Nyla had brought, drove up behind the flivver. Among the general movement of servants Herr Leutz seized the opportunity to

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 flee. He leaped into the car and was driven away.

With a series of sweeping bows and with gestures rather than articulate words the guests were cajoled into the drawing room. Mr. Quackenbush, a large handsome hearty gentleman impressively Senatorial in appearance, had not unnaturally assumed both the small man in the ill-fitting cutaway and the splendid figure in naval uniform to be attendants of some sort. Preceding weeks of this his first trip abroad had already been so full of surprises that now nothing could startle him. When Guadeloupe, in an accent enriched by embarrassment, introduced himself and presented Colonel Cointreau as his interpreter, the American envoy's manner was perfect.

"Some baby," said Guadeloupe soothingly, putting out a friendly hand toward the odious child, who gazed at him with concentrated hostility. "I am strong for vife und kiddies," he added with a polite obeisance.

Mrs. Quackenbush, holding the small girl

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 firmly in leash, had the bearing of a resolute lady accustomed to preside over large Middle-Western women's clubs. The President, scanning her powerful bosomy figure, couldn't help morbidly thinking of her as a dancing partner. She looked prosperous and well-knit, the kind of person who would resent being trodden on.

"Oh Mr. President," she exclaimed, "do forgive our having brought the little girl without warning, but our Swiss nurse fell ill unexpectedly and we had no time to arrange to leave her in Geneva. I'm sorry she's so upset, but you know what children are, it's such a trying journey. Mildred, make your pretty curtsey to the President, that's a Treasure."

Mildred ducked sullenly.

"Please?" said Herr Guadeloupe inquiringly. He was ambitious to air his smattering of American, but his ear was not quick enough to follow rapid conversation.

"I think this is a bum hotel," said Mildred. "I bet there's no hot water."

"Pleasure to receive hard-boiled Americans

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 to our tender republic," said Guadeloupe. "I tell de vorld." Here he broke down and gazed helplessly at the Colonel.

"My interpretation tell de vorld," he concluded.

"The President wants me to assure you of the warmth of his welcome," said Cointreau. "He apologizes for the meagerness of his English; I fear that I myself am not perfect."

"Why, you speak elegantly!" cried Mrs. Quackenbush. "Such a relief! You know we were so embarrassed when we got orders from Washington to come here, our French is bad enough but our German simply doesn't exist."

"Why does the elevator man wear a sword?" said Mildred.

"Hush, Treasure. You mustn't be rude. I'm sorry Mildred is a little peevish. She can be so sweet when she's herself. She's not just an ordinary Mildred, are you Treasure? You know she was named for her grandfather, General Mildred of Cincinnati."

"Hot dog!" said the President cheerily, eager

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 to propitiate Quackenbush. "Your maternal vife give me one vhale of a kick, Herr Ambassador. Pretty nifty! Now perhaps she please to undress herself."

"The Herr President overstates his intention," explained Cointreau tactfully. "He does not always mean all that he seems to say."

"He's funnier than Charlie Chaplin," said Mildred. "Come on, boy, take us up in the elevator. What's the number of our room? I want to write my name in the register myself."

Her exasperated parents, already goaded by a long journey cooped in a compartment with their difficult urchin, made a joint move toward her, but at that moment Romsteck piloted in two footmen with trays of cocktails and caviar sandwiches. Mildred eluded the punitive grasp, skipped briskly across the room and seized one of the glasses.

"Gee, I'm thirsty," she cried, and drained it. "Why do they wear short pants?"

"Mildred!" exclaimed her father furiously.

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 "She'll be ill," said her mother. "Treasure, how can you behave so?"

In all his career as a diplomatist Colonel Cointreau never surpassed his conduct at that moment. He saw that the Quackenbushes were approaching the frontiers of endurance. With skillful suggestion he lured the excited child onto the terrace, promising to keep her amused while Frau Quackenbush could unpack in peace.

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you must have American cock's tails," said Guadeloupe, somewhat nervous to find himself left without his interpreter. He drank one hastily himself, hoping it might cause some sprouting in his small garden of American idiom. "So much I hear about your great outlandish contry. Ve drink to dose Unitarian States, de whole tirteen of dem."

The envoy bowed graciously. "You mustn't feel offended," he said, "if Mrs. Quackenbush doesn't drink. She is a leading member of our W.C.T.U."

"Yes, yes," said the President, puzzled, but desperately anxious to understand. "Quite natural after a long journey."

But he could see from Herr Quackenbush's startled face that he had erred in some mysterious way. He struggled bravely to improve.

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 "Be qvite easy. Frau Quackenbush shall plenty to drink enjoy. Your liddle offsprings too. Ha ha, how it leap upon de cock's tail! Ve onderstand, peoples from de League alvays some lushers. I tink you like our liddle contry, Herr Ambassador?"

"I think so indeed. Of course you have very different views from ourselves."

"Views! Ah, for views, Herr Ambassador—when de sun sits down in de mountains, all rosy in de icebergs! Dose icebergs are like companions, as good for Frau Quackenbush as a second hosband."

"I'm afraid, Herr President, you are premature in calling me Ambassador. My nomination hasn't yet been ratified by the Senate."

"It is de same ting," said Guadeloupe, blissfully ignorant of American politics. "Ve so happy to be recognize by America, great contry, rich but honest. You tell your President perhaps, Illyria small contry very poor. Ve soffer pretty nifty in de Var, de Var got our goats good and plenty, I tell de vorld."

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 "Let us drink to a happier future," said Herr Quackenbush kindly. "These cocktails are delicious."

"Is it not so!" exclaimed the delighted host. "Colonel Cointreau tell me, dat is de drink you Americans use to put hair on de chest. To de generous great Repoblic of Unitarian States! Ich trink auf Ihr Wohl, Herr Ambassador. I spik Engleesch, a liddle, but American is hard-boiled, makes to me a little cuckoo."

"I think you do very well, Herr President," said Quackenbush politely, though inwardly a little staggered by the other's figures of speech. "You have several phrases of quite lively American slang."

"You think? Dat is my interpretations, Colonel Cointreau. A most singular man. It is de Colonel who introduce de cock's tails, he visit America, he spik all de tongues of men und of angels, dance de folk dance, he is how you say my right hand, I tell de vorld. I vish you talk mid him, he put you vise to everything."

"That is the gentleman in naval uniform?"

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 "He looks like naval's uniforms, Herr Ambassador, but dat is uniform of interpretations in Illyria. Colonel Cointreau say no officer so important as interpretation who make rich powerful contries understand troubles of poor little contries. Important officers must have important uniforms."

"And the gentleman who met us at the station, that is your Finance Minister? I suppose he is the one with whom we shall discuss the matter of payments?"

The President, painfully aware that Dlyria and the United States would be discussing payments for at least sixty years, was anxious to postpone the topic as long as possible.

"To-night I hope ve tink only of happiness. Anodder cock's tail, Herr Ambassador? So ve have arrange for you and Frau Quackenbush a little dinner, mit dancings und lust. Colonel Cointreau he is de man, alvays lusting. So chenial und so nifty mit his feets, he dance mit Frau Quackenbush, he give her a vhale of a kick."

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 "It's very kind of you, I'm sure. What a wonderful old house this is."

"Ve hope you und Frau Quackenbush be careless here in Farniente just so careless as you were to your own house. Ve show you all our interests, yes, de pullet holes vere dey shoot at de Grand Dukes, de pilliard tables vere dey lay out de corpses. My interpretation he exblain, he haf de gift of de gab. Like peoples in America he have how you call rubber heels. Alvays so comical, I tell de vorld. Such a charming, he can treadon people's corns und dey thank him for it."

"He'd make a good ambassador," remarked Herr Quackenbush.

Meanwhile the highly-praised interpreter had found Mildred not bad company. She was a spoiled precocious child, and now tired and cross, but this was the first time she had gone walking with an elevator man and she was naturally flattered. The Colonel's artful wiles completed the conquest his uniform had begun.

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 He showed her the moat, held her hand while she walked on the balustrade, made tempting suggestions of future adventures with boats and fishing, and allowed her to carry the sword. Soon she was chattering away gaily. It had been her notion to insist, with screams if necessary, on staying up for dinner, but he tactfully persuaded her that an early supper and bed would put her in better condition for junkets in the morning.

"I guess there's not many Americans comes here to Illyria," she said. She was aware that she had not cut a good figure at her entrance, and with sound feminine instinct she was hunting about in her mind for reasons to re-establish her self-esteem. "I guess maybe I'm the first American child that's ever been here. You know, my nurse, in Geneva, she wasn't really sick, she just got nervous prostrations from taking care of me. I can give most any nurse nervous prostrations if I really try."

"I'm sure you can," said the Colonel. "It's a gift."

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 "You ought to be running an elevator in a hotel in America," she remarked. "You've got too much class for an old dump like this. Maybe I could get you a job at our hotel in Washington. I don't suppose you ever get any decent tips here.

"I manage to get along."

"It's nice to have someone to talk to," she said graciously. "Daddy and Mother aren't really congenial to me, and these people over here are such boobs about speaking English. Lots of times I have things on my mind and can't say them."

"Nothing is more painful, I quite agree."

"There was another American on the train, but he didn't amount to much."

"How can you tell when they amount to much?"

"Well, you're a foreigner, I guess you won't understand. Daddy told me for God's sake to take a walk in the corridor so's he could get a nap. In one of the other cars I saw this man, and he was chewing gum. That's how I knew he

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 didn't amount to much. He was riding second class, too."

"It's useful to have a way you can tell, isn't it," said the Colonel amiably.

"He was some kind of policeman."

The Colonel seemed interested. "That was queer. What would an American policeman be doing, way over here?"

"He said he was looking for someone. He offered me a stick of gum, but when I told him who I was of course he knew I wouldn't take it."

"Where was he going?"

"He didn't say, but he was awful anxious to see Daddy. I fooled him, though. I wasn't going to have him wake up Daddy's nap, so I told him we'd see him after the train left Laibach. Then, you see, we got off at Laibach to change and I guess he went on with the express. I didn't see him on the other train."

"Well, you're a great kid," said the Colonel admiringly. "I guess you told your father about it afterward."

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 "No, I forgot about it till this minute. I had one of my tantrums, and it escaped me."

"I tell you what I'll do," said the Colonel in a burst of generosity. "If you slip up to bed right away, right away mind you, and don't bother your father and mother, because they've got to dress for dinner, I'll make you a present of that sword. You can take it to bed with you."

"Honest?" she exclaimed.

"Sure's you're born. Come on now, I'll get Frau Innsbruck to give you a glass of milk and a cooky and you beat it right to bed. Then we can pull some big stuff in the morning."

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odd that so brief an interval should have had so marked an effect on the Colonel. When he rejoined the President and Herr Quackenbush, the interpreter's fluent American had suffered an obvious deterioration. He now spoke with an Illyrian accent hardly less strong than the President's own. Herr Guadeloupe, however, unconscious of any change, welcomed him joyfully and prepared to shift the difficult burden of small-talk to a more capable linguist.

"Ha, my interpretations!" he said jovially. "I schust tell de Herr Ambassador ve turn over new leafs in Illyria. He und Frau Quackenbush see how ve burn all our britches behind us."

Herr Quackenbush, somewhat puzzled, turned to the Colonel, who was deftly abstracting for his own use the cocktail that he could see the President did not really need.

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 "Not britches, britches," explained the Colonel. "Not britches in de sense of pantaloons, britches in de sense of Brooklyn Britches. Ve burn our britches in de behind, dat is to say ve begin a new era."

"The President tells me you have been in the States," said Quackenbush.

"Ach, soch happy memory of your great contry," cried the Colonel blithely. "I drink to it, so. Zose beautiful Statue of Libertine, zose tall Voolvort Building, zose companionable sobvay, ve haf noddings in Illyria to comparison."

"Your ideas of life are different over here," said the envoy generously. "You have charms of your own."

"No, no," insisted the enthusiastic Colonel. "Here ve are poor and bestial. Ve haf soch ambitiousness to be like America; give us de chance, ve be go-getters, back-slappers, cake eaters, beeg butter-und-egg men. You gif us easy terms on de debt, ve show our gratefulness ve start de Rotary Clubs, ve tear down de old

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 buildings put up apartment housings, ve dig sobvay mid beautiful newsstands and lofely pictures on de magazine covers."

"I can see you have made quite a study of American life," said the surprised envoy.

"It is de civilization of de future," continued the Colonel in his vigorous guttural. "Strong, romantic, eggsiting. Alvays de Herr President he ask me about America, tell him it is Paradise, de contry of beautiful vimmen vere de hosbands is shot up in an office from nine till six  Und your Vashington Deecy, soch a magnificence. De perfect sitting-place for a government dat would be chenerous to poor liddle foreign contries. Und your Prohibition, a noble idea: a contry vere no one never drinks, it leave so moch more for de rest of us."

"Some of your impressions may have been a little misleading," said Quackenbush, "but certainly they are very flattering. You must come again."

"He tell you how moch ve admire America?"

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 asked Guadeloupe, who was unable to keep up with the rapid-fire of his interpreter.

"I say to Herr Quackenbush dat all de modern civilization come to us from his contry, de Ford-cars, de movies, de fine plumbings. I say ve owe de Americans a great deal."

This last phrase, which the President could understand, seemed to him ominous, and he frowned covertly to his volatile adviser.

"Now that the United States has recognized the Illyrian Republic," said Quackenbush, turning politely to Guadeloupe, "we shall expect you to send a minister to Washington. Why wouldn't the Admiral—I mean, the Colonel—be just the man? I could give you some telephone numbers in Washington that might be useful to one of your tastes," he added, observing that the Colonel was waving the cocktail shaker to verify its emptiness. "There would be no need to mention the matter to Mrs. Quackenbush."

"Dat suit me down to de terra firma," replied the Colonel brightly. "First crack out de box

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 I be real von hundred per cent American." But the President shook his head.

"I could not spare de Colonel," he said. "He is my four flushes. Besides also, Colonel Cointreau is delicate official on de staff of de League of Nations, Geneva need him near de bedside. He is de midvife for any contry dat is going to haf a baby repoblic."

The conversation was interrupted by Nyla. Evidently the Colonel's instructions had been followed, for she was lovely in an airy frock of some golden tissue. She was introduced to Herr Quackenbush, and greeted him charmingly. But it was plain to that experienced observer that the brightness of her eyes was chiefly for the interpreter. Nor did he even blame her; he too was vastly taken by the humorous young offcial.

"It pleases for me to meet you," she said in so daintily foreign an accent that the gross jargon of the others was put to shame. "Dat is de speech Colonel Cointreau tell me Americans alvays say to demselves."

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 What is so delicious as one's own tongue delicately mispronounced byabeautiful woman? So thought the ambassador and made her his best bow. He turned to Cointreau.

"Certainly you can't pretend that America has any monopoly of pretty girls."

"Speaking for de League, I am happy to state dat no contry has monopoly of good fortune," replied the Colonel readily. "Tanks to de brodigality of nature, dere is gonsolation everywheres."

Nyla reproved her father for having kept Herr Quackenbush talking when it was time to dress for dinner. The President appealed to his adviser with his eyes, but saw no sign of encouragement. When the two statesmen had gone, the Colonel began a graceful speech about Nyla's costume, but she cut him short.

"Gene," she said mysteriously, "you understand about Americans, perhaps you can help."

"What's the trouble?"

"I know it sounds silly, but—do you suppose Frau Quackenbush has a secret sorrow?"

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 "She has Mildred, but there's nothing secret about her. And even Mildred has her points."

"Well, there's something wrong. She's making queer noises."

"Who, Mildred? It's that cocktail."

"No, not Mildred, Frau Quackenbush."

"What kind of noises?"

"Lorli says she's sighing and groaning."

"Probably trying to get into her dinner dress. The American women have a passion for wearing their clothes too tight."

"Lorli says she's in a terrible state, tears running down her face."

"They can't run far, not on that figure. Maybe she's heard she'll have to dance with your father."

"But what can we do? It's terribly embarrassing. You know how much depends on this evening."

"She's got nervous prostration from spending the day with Mildred."

"Gene, please be serious. You said the League

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 sent you here to help us, and now when something happens you don't do anything."

"I am serious. I never was more serious in my life. You don't know what a lot I've got on my mind."

"But Gene, you're so clever, I thought perhaps you could think of something. If you could have a talk with her, I'm sure you could cheer her up. You're the only one here who cap understand her."

"What's the matter with her husband?"

"If you had a secret sorrow, would you confide it to Herr Quackenbush?"

"He knows some useful telephone numbers. But maybe I have a secret sorrow. Nyla, listen, I want"

"I've got to go and see that Daddy finds his studs."

"But Nyla"

"If you can comfort Frau Quackenbush, you can tell me about that later."

"Nyla, you little fiend"

The blue sleeves of the Admiral were round

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 her, but only for an instant. The victory was as brief and fallacious as any of the engagements of the Dalmatian navy, for just then Romsteck entered, with a petty cough, to supervise the removal of the appetizers.

The major domo's manner as the footmen cleared away was perfect. The Colonel, on the other hand, seemed somewhat at a loss. He lit a cigarette, studied the bullet-holes in the panel, and then stood with his back to the room, looking off over the terrace. The underlings departed noiselessly; finally Romsteck signalled with another small cough.

"Romsteck," said the Colonel, without looking round.

"Sir?"

There was a pause.

"Could you cash a check?"

"No sir."

Another pause.

"But I'd have no objection to lending it to you, sir."

"Romsteck, are youtryingto embarrass me?"

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 "Impossible, sir."

"This League of Nations business is so uncertain."

"Very."

"I might be called back to Geneva quite suddenly, and I find that I have neglected"

"Precisely, sir. I admire you for it."

A pause.

"Damn it, Romsteck, you are embarrassing me."

"It does you credit, sir."

Another pause.

"If a couple of hundred florins would do, sir, it would be like old times. Quite in the Grand Ducal tradition.—I felt the tradition reviving yesterday; but I was sure of it when—when I interrupted you just now, sir."

The Colonel wheeled angrily and strode across the room.

"Look here, not a word against the Fräulein, do you understand? Damn you, the grandest grand duchess in the whole mildewed tribe wasn't worth the heel of her slipper."

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 "That also does you credit, sir," said Romsteck calmly.

Cointreau stared at him and then turned again to the door by the terrace.

"Well, what is it?" he asked presently.

"What leads you to believe there is anything further, sir?"

The Colonel laughed, flicked away his cigarette, and came back into the room.

"Romsteck, I underestimated you. You're a clever man. But there's not much time before dinner. I've got a good appetite, I'd hate to spoil it."

"There is a man here to see the American ambassador."

A pause, and the Colotel studied Romsteck's face keenly. It was properly inscrutable.

"Does he make chewing motions with his mouth?"

"It might be so described," admitted Romsteck.

"The ambassador is dressing. The man will have to wait."

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 "Would it not be better, sir, to see him now?"

"You know very well it is important the ambassador should not be upset. The Herr President particularly wants to keep him in a genial frame of mind."

"Quite so, sir. Therefore I say, see this man now. He is from the American military police."

"Ah. I think we shall need a little finesse," remarked the Colonel. "Romsteck, I believe this man is a dangerous fellow, dangerous to the best interests of a happy evening. I can count on you?"

"Absolutely, sir. It is quite in the Farniente tradition."

"A glass of the 1865 cognac and two or three footmen, the big ones, would be helpful."

"Very good, sir," and Romsteck retired.

He returned a few moments later, ushering a burly fellow in citizens' clothes, who saluted briskly to the figure in brilliant uniform.

"American M.P., sir," said the stranger. "Sergeant Higgins."

"Please for to meet you," said Cointreau in

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 his best guttural. "I tought all de M. P.'s vere Engleesch."

"Military Police, from the zone of occupation. On medical detail from the Base Hospital at Coblentz. I have to see Mr. Quackenbush."

"I am sorry, M.P., I onderstand Engleesch mid huge difficulties."

"Maybe you can read it, sir. I have an extradition paper here that explains the matter."

The Colonel examined the document, apparently with some perplexity, for he lingered over it until three footmen entered with a decanter of brandy.

"Dere is a photographs here," he said. "Vot a nasty looking gustomer. You hunting somevon, hey? De Herr Ambassador he is fugitive?"

"No sir, but I need his OK to get codperation from the Farniente police."

"It is pitiful, M.P., de Herr Ambassador could not be coöperated schust now. His vife got hysterics, his baby got de nervous prostrations, himself is about to try to gollect some money from de Illyrian dreasury. It is a diffi-

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 cult moment. You seddle down qvietly, visit de sights, by und bye ve see vot ve can do."

"I'm sorry, I got my orders."

"I do not onderstand," said the Colonel affably, signalling the footmen to approach. "Anyhow, our old Illyrian osbitality must be observe. A glass of de 1865 cognac, M.P., den ve summon de Herr Quackenbush.—More dan vonce, dey tell me, dis cognac have save de state."

The sergeant, much pleased, accepted the glass and drank with enthusiasm. He was then surprised to find Colonel Cointreau holding a small shining barrel at his face.

"Put 'em up!" said the Colonel. "Quick! No noise about it, buddy."

The M.P.'s arms rose, one hand still holding the empty glass, which Romsteck carefully took and replaced on the tray. The three brawny footmen stood ready.

"You dirty Fritz, what's the idea?" cried the astounded victim.

"Tousand apology," said the Colonel, re-

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 membering his accent, "but ve cannot haf Herr Quackenbush interruptioned dis evening. You take my advices, M.P., and keep qviet, it is de old Farniente tradition."

The man ducked suddenly and dived for the Colonel's legs, but the footmen threw themselves upon him. The struggle was fierce but brief. It cost the Colonel one of his Dalmatian epaulettes, but the cold pressure of his weapon on the policeman's cheek brought the enemy to terms.

"Sorry ve haf to be so rude," said the Colonel, With one hand he detached his scarlet sash and handed it to Romsteck, who gagged the angry captive. "Dis is de first time de Dalmatian navy ever see any active service.—Romsteck, take him away. Keep him quiet until the morning."

The major domo and the footmen led off the bewildered M. P. The Colonel, now that the tension was over, put his revolver to his mouth. On it he played a cheerful variation of the Moating Song.

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, resourceful as usual, hunted about the drawing room for a pin. As he expected, he found one eventually in the long blue damask window curtains. He stood trying to reattach the large golden epaulette to his shoulder when he was startled by a soft explosion. It came apparently from the great hall, a sudden popping sound followed by a faint whistling gasp. It was not unlike the fracture of an electric light bulb fallen from a height; but there are no electric lights in the Farniente Palace. He listened sharply. But nothing further happened, so he resumed his task, attempting to adjust the heavily fringed ornament at its proper angle. He had got it affixed, rather insecurely, when the sound came again, louder. This time there was discernible also a sort of strangled fizzing.

Hastily he crossed the room and flung open

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 the door; on the very instant he was met point blank by a second repetition at close range. This time it was unmistakable: a sneeze, followed by a gulping sob. The mourner was Frau Quackenbush, weeping fluently.

"My dear lady," he cried aghast. "Vat can be loose, indeed? Lean on my arm, lean on de Dalmatian Navy dat have gonsoled so many unfortunate females. So, so; there, there."

He supported her tenderly to the sofa, where she sank heavily, carrying him with her. In spite of her beautiful silver gown Frau Quackenbush was a lamentable sight. Her eyes were bloodshot, glazed with tears; her nose red and swollen, her handsome features puffed with misery. She buried her face in her handkerchief.

"Ach, Himmel!" exclaimed the astounded man. "Speak, lady. You haf a pain? Mildred is sick? De gown too tight? Some calamity is too moch bust!"

She shook her head faintly, holding the handkerchief to her face, a small vinaigrette held limply in the other hand. Cointreau respectfully

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 removed the handkerchief hand and pushed up the smelling salts under her nose. She sighed, and then was seized by another sharp convulsion. She trembled, shuddered, emitted a gargling groan and struggled for breath. The vinaigrette bottle clattered on the floor.

"Got save us! You feel easier?'ve must buck up, de gompany be soon here."

"I can't go through with it," she moaned faintly.

"Vat rascal have got you in dis gondition?" said the chivalrous Colonel. "Your osband, he is onkind? I call him out, I schpit him mit my sword.—No, Mildred gone to bed mit de sword. I play him a fatal jackpot.—Lady, lady, tell to me vat is wrong mit your bosoms."

"I can't tell you," she gasped. "It would offend you."

"Nodding ladies ever did could offend Cointreau," he declared soothingly. "Alvays I prepare for de vorst."

She shook her head, and mopped her eyes hopelessly.

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 "Is it de sorrows of our little contry dat bray upon your spirit? De difficulty of gonversations mit de Herr Bresident? I imblore you, Frau Quackenbush, be confidential in me. Ve be soch friends, ve dance, ve make insinuations. See, ve haf pretty gustom of Dlyria, vear a favour for friends. You brace up, not distress de Herr Bresident mit dese griefs, I gif you my trophy. Please, you vear it for me?"

He plucked the loosely pinned epaulette from his coat and offered it gallantly. With bleared eyes she could hardly see it, and recoiled with a choking cry.

"What is it, more goldenrod? Take it away, it's killing me! The whole house is full of it. Send upstairs for my atomizer, I'm suffocating."

A light broke upon the distracted Colonel. Like a man putting out a fire he leaped to his feet, rang the bell, then seized the bundles of goldenrod lavishly displayed in every vase and hurled them through the open door far across the terrace.

"It's my hay fever," said Frau Quackenbush

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 in a strangled whisper. "Goldenrod is the one thing that absolutely kills me with asthma. I didn't know you had it in Europe."

She sank back against the cushions with another shattering sneeze.

"The maid said you got it for me as a special compliment," she murmured huskily. "So I didn't like to throw it out."

When Herr Guadeloupe and Nyla entered the salon a few minutes later, Frau Quackenbush was stretched, an imposing contour, on the couch. On his knees beside her the remorseful Colonel, uttering frantic endearments, was pumping the atomizer into her nose and throat.

"Tell me, dear lady, do de nostrils seem any happier?" he was asking solicitously. "Hosh!" he cautioned the horrified President. "I tink she revive. She breathe more freely. Open wide, ve spray out de pharynx. De pharynx, de larynx, and all de mucous membranes. She have a dreadful attack, unspeakable."

"Gott!" ejaculated the President. "An attack? Is it assassinations, ravishings? Ach, de

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 Herr Ambassador add anoder million florins to de debt."

Frau Quackenbush struggled gamely to her feet.

"I'm better, Herr President," she said hoarsely. "Please don't be alarmed."

"She was very nearly ruined, but she improve," said the Colonel, medicating the air busily in various directions.

"You prefer ve cancel de guests?" asked Guadeloupe anxiously. "Perhaps Frau Quackenbush too sick for de dancings?" he added hopefully.

"No, please," she said. "I shall be all right in a moment. The Colonel saved me."

"But still I do not onderstand vat is happen," said the mystified President. "And how is dis?" he added, picking up the severed epaulette from the rug. "Signs of stroggle? Surely de age of ravishings is gone by?"

"Ve hope de age of ravishings never go by," said the Colonel charmingly. "Frau Quackenbush und I haf our liddle secrets. It is de old

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 Farniente tradition. Hosh now, here come de Ambassador."

The footmen brought in candles, and a moment later Romsteck announced the first of the arriving guests.

"Herr Finance Minister Leutz, Frau Leutz," he shouted solemnly.

As the company gathered the Colonel devoted himself assiduously to Frau Quackenbush, and by the time dinner was served she was greatly improved and in excellent spirits.

Nyla went in to dinner on the Colonel's arm.

"Gene, I knew you could fix things somehow," she whispered gratefully. "What's become of your sword and the lovely red sash?"

"I gave them away," he said. "I'm giving away the whole outfit, bit by bit. Wear this for me." And he gave her the golden epaulette.

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summer moon poured on Farniente its soft endearing lunacy. The terrace, where Nyla and the Colonel were sitting out this dance, was a milky twilight; from the ballroom came the sweet innuendo of the latest Viennese waltz. Tilyria is haunted with music. It sounds in chorus from village inns, it chimes from old belfries, gypsies fiddle under vineyard arbours, even the cowbells in mountain pastures cry a queer elvish clang. The Colonel can be pardoned if in that perfect blend of evening and congenial company he had laid aside international cares for a moment. The music in the ballroom ceased; he took out his mouth-organ and repeated the air, which his quick ear had accurately caught.

"I wish they wouldn't play such emotional tunes," he remarked. "It makes the roots grow so quickly."

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 "Beautiful, beautiful world!" exclaimed Nyla happily. "It doesn't make me feel like roots. It makes me feel like escaping into that magic paleness, going farther and farther—on and on and on. Doesn't moonlight make you feel like that, Gene; almost as though something was after you?"

"I know the feeling," said the Colonel. He played the tune again, retarding it in an absent thoughtful fashion. "Speaking of travelling and all that sort of thing, I've got some important papers to get off to the League. Confidential reports, you know. I ought to let them know that the republic has been successfully inaugurated. What I mean is, I suppose there's a late train that I could send them on?"

"There's the two o'clock. That connects with the sleepings at Laibach. I know, because Daddy had to take it once when they summoned him to Geneva. Gene, you're so conscientious. Couldn't your work wait till to-morrow?"

"Oh well, perhaps it could," admitted the

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 Colonel tenderly. "But the last thing—one of the last things—Ramsay Macdonald said to me was, Get your reports in promptly."

"Please forgive me," she said, conscience-stricken. "I mustn't forget, just because you've been so perfectly darling to me, that you have to attend to business."

"Supposing that you'd never met me," he began earnestly, and then interrupted himself. "By Jove, that just fits the music!" he cried, and played a snatch of the air again. "We can make up some words of our own. Come on now, take turns with the lines."

The orchestra indoors just then took up the tune for an encore. To that soft accompaniment the Colonel sang his first line:

"Supposing that you'd never met me"

"In that case let's never suppose—" she hummed in reply.

"But then you could never forget me.—" continued the Colonel.

"I'm stuck," she said. "I can't get it. Wait a minute—Our poetry never be prose."

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 "Grand!" said the Colonel. "We'll knock Irving Berlin for a loop. Here we go: That ts the tragic in every sweet magic"

"Yes, even the fairy tales end—" she improvised, in a prettily pretended pathos.

Both paused, struggling for the next rhyme. The Colonel got it first, and warbled in a thrilling espressivo:

He finished off with a fine rich flourish on the mouth-organ.

"Gene, you're wonderful!" she cried ecstatically. "You're much too good for the old League of Nations, you ought to be a bandmaster or something."

The delighted virtuoso replied with both arms and the one word that was his favourite ejaculation.

"Darling!" was his simple declarative statement. One word and two arms, he used to remark, could best express a tender crisis.

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