they call it so elegant," remarked Beechy.

That speech was to Aunt Kathryn what valerian is to a pussy cat; for
Mrs. Potter Adriance (as I've often heard since I made acquaintance with
my relations) is the leader of Denver society, and is supposed once to
have said with a certain emphasis: "_Who_ are the Kidders?"

"Perhaps I'll just step in and see what they've got here," said Aunt
Kathryn.

"It isn't a cheap place," replied Mr. Barrymore. "This man knows how to
charge. If you want any marbles, he has some fine ones; but for other
things I'll take you somewhere else, where I promise you shall be amused
and not cheated."

"I think our yard at home is big enough for two or three statues; and a
marble well-head and a sundial would be lovely," exclaimed Aunt Kathryn.

"We'll look at some," said Mr. Barrymore, motioning to the gondolier.
"But now, unless you're to pay six times what everything's worth, you
must put yourselves in my hands. Remember, you don't care to glance
either at statues, well-heads, or sun-dials."

"But that's what we're here for!" cried Aunt Kathryn.

"Ah, but the man mustn't guess that for the world! We appear to be
searching for--let's say, mirrors; but not finding the kind we want, we
_may_ deign to look at a few marbles as we pass. We don't fancy the
fellow's stock; still, the things aren't bad; we may decide to save
ourselves the trouble of going further. Whatever you do, don't mention a
price, even in English. Appear bored and indifferent, never pleased or
anxious. When I ask if you're willing to pay so and so, drawl out 'no'
or 'yes' without the slightest change of expression."

As we landed on the wet marble steps and passed into the region of
gilded gleams and pearly glints, our hearts began to beat with
suppressed excitement, as if we were secret plotters, scheming to carry
through some nefarious design.

Immediately on entering, I caught sight of two marble baby lions sitting
on their haunches side by side on the floor with ferocious expressions
on their little carved faces.

"I must have those for myself," I murmured to Mr. Barrymore in a
painfully monotonous voice, as we passed along a narrow aisle between
groves of magnificent antique furniture. "They appeal to me. Fate means
us for each other."

But at this moment an agreeable and well-dressed Italian was bowing
before us. He was the proprietor of the antiques, and he looked more
like a philanthropic millionaire than a per