hey declared it to be the most
successful pageant of the season.

"Who _is_ Mr. Jerry Paxton?" people demanded.

"Don't you know him? Why, he's a genius! He's a portrait painter, one of
the coming ones. I have commissioned him to paint me, in this costume he
designed for me," was Mrs. Brendon's unchanging answer. Jane noticed
that it always made an impression.

"Why, Mr. Christiansen, what are you doing here?" Mrs. Brendon demanded
of a giant of a man who approached them.

"I came to see what you vandals would do to the prophets," he replied.

"We've done very well by them, don't you think?" she laughingly
inquired.

"Some of them seemed to me a trifle decadent, I confess."

"The Old Testament is decadent, if you come to that."

"So? Elemental, I should say, rather than decadent."

"What's the difference? They're both naughty."

He laughed and indicated Jane.

"May I be presented to Salome?"

"Miss Judd, this is Mr. Martin Christiansen," she said.

"You know your Oscar Wilde, Miss Judd," he said.

"Miss Judd substituted at the last moment," Mrs. Brendon said. "Wasn't
it wonderful of her?"

"It was because I knew the Wilde Salome that I was able to do it at
all."

"You are an actress?"

"Oh, no. I'm--I'm not anything."

"Excuse me; yours was the only distinguished impersonation to-night. You
made these beautiful dolls worth enduring," he said in a low tone.

"Oh!" breathed Jane, looking at him directly, to be sure he wasn't
laughing at her, then hastily gazing toward Mrs. Brendon, to make sure
she had not heard him. But that great lady had swept on.

"Who is Jerry Paxton?"

"Every one asks that. Mrs. Brandon says,--" Here she gave so perfect an
imitation of Mrs. Brendon's words and manner that Christiansen laughed
heartily.

"So, he is a painter. I seem to remember him faintly. Is he a good
painter?"

"I'm not a critic."

"You like him--the man, I mean?"

"Why--I don't know. I'm sorry for him, rather."

"He doesn't look an object to inspire pity, Miss Salome. He seems to be
a brilliant sort of person."

"Yes, I know, but he's so sort of unprotected, like a little boy."

"So that's why you're sorry for him? That's akin to saying that you're
sorry for all men."

"I am, rather, and all women."

He looked at her keenly, and she gave him her eyes directly.

"You don't look a misogynist."

"I am tremendously interested in life, but I feel always a little sorry
for all of us who are t