read that to-night at Redcliffe Hall, Fulham
Road, would take place a Grand Carnival and Masked Ball for the benefit
of some orphanage connected with licensed victualing. Tickets were on
sale in various public-houses of the neighborhood, at seven and sixpence
for gentlemen and five shillings for ladies.

"Ought to be very good," commented the tobacconist. "Well, we want a
bit of brightening up nowadays down this way, and that's a fact. Why, I
can remember Cremorne Gardens. Tut-tut! Bless my soul. Yes, and the old
World's End. That's going back into the seventies, that is. And it seems
only yesterday."

"I rather wish I'd got a ticket," said Michael.

"Why not let me get you one, sir, and send it round to Cheyne Walk? I
suppose you'd like one for a lady as well?"

"No, I'll have two men's tickets."

Michael had a vague notion of getting Maurice or Lonsdale to accompany
him, and he went off immediately to 422 Grosvenor Road; but the studio
was deserted. Nor was he successful in finding Lonsdale. Nobody seemed
to have finished his holidays yet. It would be rather boring to go
alone, he thought; but when he found the tickets waiting for him, they
seemed to promise a jolly evening, even if he did no more than watch
other people enjoying themselves. No doubt there would be plenty of
spectators without masks, like himself, and in ordinary evening dress.
So about half-past nine Michael set off alone to the carnival.

Redcliffe Hall, viewed from the outside in the January fog which was
deepening over the city, seemed the last place in the world likely to
contain a carnival. It was one of those dismal gothic edifices which,
having passed through ecclesiastical and municipal hands with equal loss
to both, awaits a suitable moment for destruction before it rises again
in a phoenix of new flats. However, the awning hung with Japanese
lanterns that ran from the edge of the curb up to the entrance made it
now not positively forbidding.

Michael went up to the gallery and watched the crowd of dancers. Many of
the fancy dresses had a very homely look, but there were also
professional equipments from costumiers and a very few really beautiful
inventions. The medley of colors, the motion of the dance, the sound of
the music, the streamers of bunting and the ribbons fluttering round the
Maypole in the middle of the room, all combined to give Michael an
illusion of a very jocund assemblage. There were plenty of men dancing
without