ride. Martie would ordinarily have passed it as
one unaware of its existence.

But it seemed a thoroughly daring and exciting thing to come here
to-night; quite another thing from going to the hotel for vanilla ice
cream and chocolate--even supposing the hotel had kept its dining room
open for a change, after the six o'clock supper--or to Bonestell's for
banana specials. This--this was living! Martie established herself
comfortably in the corner, slipped off her coat, smiled lazily at
Rodney's obvious manipulation of the party so that he should be next
her, played with her hot, damp, blackened knife and fork, and was in
paradise.

Ida Parker was in the party, and Florence Frost. The men were Clifford
Frost, a pleasant young man getting stout and bald at forty; Billy
Frost, a gentle little lad of fifteen who was lame; Rodney, and a
rosy-cheeked, black-moustached Dr. Ellis from San Francisco, whose
occasional rather simple and stupid remarks were received with great
enthusiasm by Ida and Florence.

In this group Martie shone. She had her own gift for ready nonsense,
and she was the radiant element that blended the varied types into a
happy whole. She skilfully ignored Rodney; Billy, Mary, Cliff, and even
Dr. Ellis were drawn into her fun. Rodney glowed. "Isn't she great?" he
said to Mary Frost in an aside.

A large bowl of small crackers was set before them, damp squares of
strong butter on small nicked plates, finally a bowl of pink, odorous
shrimps. These were all gone when, after a long wait, the fried oysters
came smoking hot, slipped straight from the pan to the plates. Martie
drank coffee, as Mary did; the others had thick goblets of red wine.
With the hot, warming food, their gaiety waxed higher; everybody felt
that the party was a great success.

The bell on the door reverberated, and a man came in alone, and looked
about undecidedly for a seat.

"Hello!" said Rodney. "There's Wallace Bannister!"

The young actor joined them. And this, to Martie, was one of the most
thrilling moments of her life. He quite openly wedged his way in to sit
on the other side of her; he said that he could see they didn't need
the gaslight when Miss Monroe was along. Rodney said she was Brunhilde,
and Bannister's comment was that she could save wig bills with that
hair! Florence said eagerly that she loved Brunhilde--let's see, what
opera did that come in? It was the Ring, anyway. The spirits of the
group rose every second.