ime flew past. It was an extremely interesting conversation and
madam was so kind as to invite me to the ball this evening."

"You will accept, I trust," Herman said with ready hospitality.

"Yes, thank you," Millar said. "I have come direct from Odessa, where I
have had a talk with the Russian wheat magnate."

"Ah, I know; I shall lose money; the wheat crop is bad," Herman said
impatiently.

"Oh, isn't that good for us?" Olga asked.

"No, dear, it is not; I am short on wheat."

"What does short on wheat mean?" Olga asked.

"It means digging a pit for others and falling into it yourself," Millar
remarked cynically. "However," he went on, "things are not so bad. I
have reliable information that the later crop will be abundant."

"Good; I am delighted to learn this," Herman said, very much pleased
with Millar, who now spoke pleasantly and ingratiatingly.

Karl had paid little attention to the colloquy between Herman and
Millar. He tried to speak to Olga, but could not catch her eye. She
seemed to wish to avoid him. She watched her opportunity, however, and
managed to whisper to Millar:

"I want to speak with you alone."

Millar brought his subtlety into instant play. Turning to Herman he
asked:

"By the way, have you seen the sketch of madam Karl made yesterday? It
is atrociously bad."

"No; where is it? I would like to see it," Herman cried eagerly.

"It is in the studio," Millar said.

"You must show it to me, Karl," Herman said, walking toward the studio
door with the young artist. "I am sorry you didn't start on the picture
to-day, but I suppose it can't be helped. What in the world were you
talking about all that time?"

As they went out talking, Olga followed slowly. As she passed Millar he
said:

"I will await you here."

Olga went with Karl and her husband. She had hardly left the room when
the door from the hall opened and Mimi entered. As Millar turned toward
her with his ironical bow she drew back, affrighted.

"Oh, excuse me," she murmured.

"You wish to see the artist?" Millar said.

"Yes, please."

He walked over, took her by the shoulders and coolly pushed her through
the door into the hall.

"Wait there, my dear," he said. "He is engaged just now."

Then he turned to meet Olga, who entered suddenly, looking suspiciously
around the room.

"I thought I heard a woman's voice," she exclaimed.

"The scrubwoman; I sent her away," Millar explained.

"I wanted to speak with you