bad can ever happen to us. But you
didn't know it when your husband left you, did you?"

"Husband!" ejaculated the woman. Then she looked up into the girl's
deep, wondering eyes and checked herself. "Come," she said abruptly,
rising and still holding her hand. "Never mind the clothes." A grim
look settled over her features. "We'll go down to supper now as you
are."

Carmen's companion led her down the stairs and through the hall to a
brightly lighted room at the rear, where about a long table sat a half
dozen women. There were places for as many more, but they were
unoccupied. The cloth was white, the glass shone, the silver
sparkled. And the women, who glanced up at the girl, were clad in
gowns of such gorgeous hues as to make the child gasp in amazement.
Over all hung the warm, perfumed air that she had thought so delicious
when she had first entered the house.

The noisy chatter at once ceased. The woman led her to a chair next to
the one she herself took. Carmen looked around for the lady who had
met her at the boat. She was not there. The silence and the steady
scrutiny of the others began to embarrass her. "Where--where is
Auntie?" she asked timidly, looking up at her faded attendant.

A titter ran around the table. One of the women, who swayed slightly
in her chair, looked up stupidly. "Who's Auntie?" she muttered
thickly. A burst of laughter followed this remark, and Carmen sat down
in confusion.

"Where's the Madam, Jude?" asked one of the younger women of Carmen's
attendant.

"Dining alone in her room. Headache," was the laconic reply.

"She landed a queen this time, didn't she?" looking admiringly at
Carmen. "Gets me, how the old girl does it! What's your name, kiddo?"

"Carmen," replied the girl timidly, looking questioningly about the
room.

"That's a good handle. But what's the rest?" put in another.

"Carmen Ariza," the child amended, as her big, wondering eyes swept
the group.

"Wow! That's a moniker for you!" laughed one. "Where do you hail from,
angel-face?"

The girl looked uncomprehendingly at her interlocutor.

"Your home, you know. I see your finish, all right. But where'd you
begin?"

"Tell them where you lived, child," said the woman called Jude in a
low voice.

"Simiti," replied Carmen, tears choking her words.

"Simiti!" echoed around the table. "New York? Ohio? Or Kansas?" A
burst of mirth punctuated the question.

"Do the women vote there?"

"Long way from Paris, ju