sing again into indifference
or gloom.

Keith was presented to Mrs. Creamer. She only nodded to him. Keith moved
on. He soon discovered that a cordial greeting to a strange guest was no
part of the convention in that society. One or two acquaintances spoke
to him, but he was introduced to no one; so he sauntered about and
entertained himself observing the people. The women were in their best,
and it was good.

Keith was passing from one room to another when he became aware that a
man, who was standing quite still in the doorway, was, like himself,
watching the crowd. His face was turned away; but something about the
compact figure and firm chin was familiar to him. Keith moved to take a
look at his face. It was Dave Dennison.

He had a twinkle in his eye as he said: "Didn't expect to see me here?"

"Didn't expect to see myself here," said Keith.

"I'm one of the swells now"; and Dave glanced down at his expensive
shirt-front and his evening suit with complacency. "Wouldn't Jake give a
lot to have such a bosom as that? I think I look just as well as some of
'em?" he queried, with a glance about him.

Keith thought so too. "You are dressed for the part," he said. Keith's
look of interest inspired him to go on.

"You see, 'tain't like 'tis down with us, where you know everybody, and
everything about him, to the number of drinks he can carry."

"Well, what do you do here?" asked Keith, who was trying to follow Mr.
Dennison's calm eye as, from time to time, it swept the rooms, resting
here and there on a face or following a hand. He was evidently not
merely a guest.

"Detective."

"A detective!" exclaimed Keith.

Dave nodded. "Yes; watchin' the guests, to see they don't carry off each
other. It is the new ones that puzzle us for a while," he added. "Now,
there is a lady acting very mysteriously over there." His eye swept over
the room and then visited, in that casual way it had, some one in the
corner across the room. "I don't just seem to make her out. She looks
all right--but--?"

Keith followed the glance, and the blood rushed to his face and then
surged back again to his heart, for there, standing against the wall,
was the young girl whom he had spoken to on the street a few evenings
before, who had given him so merited a rebuff. She was a
patrician-looking creature and was standing quite alone, observing the
scene with keen interest. Her girlish figure was slim; her eyes, under
straight dark brows, were