said to his photographer, who had just pushed past
Frederick.

Sounds of cheering and applause came from the street. The
ultra-fashionable friends of Grace Goodchild, having been photographed,
were shaking hands with the artists and spelling their own names to the
reporters.

The gaping proletariate, seeing such graciousness, recognized the
aristocracy of the democracy and were cheering madly. An aristocracy
whose sense of humor makes it kindly is lasting.

"Them's real swells!" shrieked a red-headed girl who carried a large
bandbox.

More cheers.

At that moment Grace Goodchild, impelled by an irresistible curiosity
appeared at her door.

"_There she is!_ Hooray!" proudly shrieked two hundred and eighteen
potential Socialists, making room for Bishop Phillipson.

Hoping they were not too late for the wedding, the throngs clapped
furiously. Even at marriages there are encore fiends.

"How do you do, my child?" inquired the Bishop, with a tolerant smile.

"Please turn around, Bishop!" shrieked the _Journal_ artist. He was paid
by the portrait.

The Bishop did so, smiled benignantly, saw the shutter open and close,
and then said, deprecatingly:

"I do not wish my picture taken, sir."

"No, sir. Will you give us another shot, Bishop?"

The reverend gentleman waited a moment and then shook his head and
turned his back rebukingly on the photographers, who a second time had
not respected his wishes.

"Such is fame, Bishop Phillipson," Grace told him, with a smile.

"Reflected greatness, rather," said the Bishop, with his courtly
kindliness.

"It's an infernal outrage!" came in a husky voice from the house.

"It's papa. He doesn't understand--"

"He and I are too old, I fear," smiled the Bishop, mournfully. "And how
is H. R., my dear?"

She shook her head and frowned. Always that person!

"A most remarkable young man," pursued the Bishop, congratulatorily. He
had received three and one-half bushels of letters from utter strangers,
commending his practical Christianity and his highly intelligent plan
for feeding the hungry. Five vestry-men also had expressed their
gratification that his name headed the list of the men who had made New
York the greatest city of the hemisphere. It looked as though the hungry
were to be fed.

The Bishop and Grace moved out of the doorway to allow the reporters to
pass, and were themselves about to enter the house when a sound of
cheering made them halt in their tracks.