le a round of applause. The
Americans did their utmost to persuade him to be seated, but their
uproar was mistaken by the others for enthusiasm, and the applause grew
louder than ever. "Subway" held up his hand for silence, and his manner
suggested that he was about to utter some peculiarly important thought.
He waited until a pin fall could have been heard before he went on.

"Maitre corbeau sur un arbre perche--" he finished the speech as he was
being carried bodily from the room by DeMille and Bragdon. The
Frenchmen then imagined that Smith's remarks had been insulting, and
his friends had silenced him on that account. A riot seemed imminent
when Monty succeeded in restoring silence, and with a few tactful
remarks about Franklin and Lafayette quieted the excited guests.

The evening ended with fireworks and a dance in the open air,--a dance
that grew gay under the masks. The wheels had been well oiled and there
was no visible failure of the carnival spirit. To Brewster it seemed a
mad game, and he found it less easy to play a part behind the foolish
mask than he expected. His own friends seemed to elude him, and the
coquetries of the village damsels had merely a fleeting charm. He was
standing apart to watch the glimmering crowd when he was startled by a
smothered cry. Turning to investigate, he discovered a little red
domino, unmistakably frightened, and trying to release herself from a
too ardent Punchinello. Monty's arrival prevented him from tearing off
the girl's mask and gave him an entirely new conception of the
strenuous life. He arose fuming and sputtering, but he was taken in
hand by the crowd and whirled from one to another in whimsical mockery.
Meanwhile Monty, unconscious that his mask had dropped during the
encounter, was astonished to feel the little hand of the red domino on
his arm and to hear a voice not at all unfamiliar in his ear:

"Monty, you are a dear. I love you for that. You looked like a Greek
athlete. Do you know--it was foolish--but I really was frightened."

"Child, how could it have happened?" he whispered, leading her away.
"Fancy my little Peggy with no one to look after her. What a beast I
was to trust you to Pettingill. I might have known the chump would have
been knocked out by all this color." He stopped to look down at her and
a light came into his eyes. "Little Peggy in the great world," he
smiled; "you are not fit. You need--well, you need--just me."

But Mrs. Valentine had