of being daunted by any moods these two might exhibit.

"Hughie, what color are Mr. Hanson's clothes?" asked Pearl.

Still with a petulant, disdainful expression, the boy leaned forward and
ran his long, slender fingers with their cushioned tips over Hanson's
coat. "Brown," he replied indifferently.

"He can tell you the color of every flower in the garden, just by
touching them," explained Pearl. "He knows all the different kinds of
birds just by the whirr of their wings. He can tell the color of every
dress I wear. He--"

But Hugh had risen. "I don't like you to tell strangers about me," he
cried with passionate petulance, "and you know it. I'm going to find
mother."

"Well, tell her that Mr. Hanson's here," called Pearl after him,
unaffected by his outburst. "He hasn't taken a shine to you," she
remarked frankly to Hanson.

Again he was disturbed to notice that she seemed to give this obvious
fact some weight. She had rested her chin on her hand and was gazing
meditatively at the gay garden. A shadow of disappointment was on her
face, and more than a touch of it in her voice.

"That don't bother me," affirmed Hanson confidently. "All that I'm
caring about is whether some one else shares his opinion." His bold, gay
eyes looked straight into hers.

"I wonder who?" drawled Pearl. The gleam of her eyes shining through
narrowed lids and black, tangled lashes flicked him like the tang of a
whip. "Maybe you mean Lolita?"

The parrot, which had perched on her shoulder and was tweaking her ear,
now hearing its name, looked up, fluttered its wings, and called out in
a gruff, masculine voice: "Mi jasmin, Pearl. Mi corazon."

"He's talking for me, sure," said Hanson, who knew enough Spanish to
make out.

"Oh, damn," said the parrot disgustedly; "why the hell can't you shut
up?"

Hanson gave a great burst of laughter. "Lolita and Hughie are well
matched when it comes to politeness."

"They got the artistic temperament, and me, too, and mom, also," said
Pearl. "That's what the newspaper boys always wrote about me when I was
on the road."

The manager did not miss the opening. "Look here," he said earnestly;
"ain't you tired loafing around here? I guess you know what I'm in
Paloma for. I've made no secret of it. Now all you got to do is to show
me your contract with Sweeney and I'll double what he gave you, play you
over a bigger circuit, and advertise you, so's before your contract with
me's expired you'll be a