their new east terrace for
an outdoor stage and the big drawin'-room it opens off from as an
auditorium. You know, Mrs. Robert used to give violin recitals and do
concert work herself, so she ain't satisfied with amateur talent.
Besides, she knows so many professional people.

"And who do you think she is to have on the program?" demands Vee.
"Farrar!"

"Aw, come!" says I.

"And perhaps Mischa Elman," adds Vee. "Isn't that thrilling?"

I admits that it is.

"But say," I goes on, "with them big names on the bill, what does she
expect to tax people for the best seats?"

Vee says how they'd figured they might ask ten dollars for a few choice
chairs.

"Huh!" says I. "That won't get you far. Why don't you soak 'em proper?"

"But how?" asks Vee.

"You put in a bald-headed row," says I, "and I'll find you a party
who'll fill it at a hundred a throw."

Vee stares at me like she thought I'd been touched with the heat, and
wants to know who.

"Clara Belle Kinney," says I.

"Why, I never heard of any such person," says she.

"Oh, yes, you have," says I. "Alias Mrs. Ben Tupper."

Course, I had some job convincin' her I wasn't joshin'; and even after
I'd sketched out the whole story, and showed her that Clara Belle's past
wasn't anything to really shudder over, Vee is still doubtful.

"But can she sing now?" she asks.

"What's the odds," says I, "if a lot of them old-timers are willin' to
pay to hear her try?"

Vee shakes her head and suggests that we go up and talk it over with Mr.
and Mrs. Robert. Which we does.

"But if she has been off the stage for twenty years," suggests Mrs.
Robert, "perhaps she wouldn't attempt it."

"I'll bet she would for Vee," says I. "Any way, she wouldn't feel sore
at being asked And if you could sting a bunch of twenty or thirty for a
hundred apiece----"

"Just fancy!" says Mrs. Robert, drawin' in a long breath and doin'
rapid-fire mental arithmetic. "Verona, let's drive right over and see
her at once."

They're some hustlers, that pair. All I have to do is map out the
scheme, and they goes after it with a rush.

And say, I want to tell you that was a perfectly good charity concert,
judged by the box-office receipts or any way you want to size it up.
Bein' the official press-agent, who's got a better right to admit it?

True, Elman didn't show up, but his alibi was sound. And not until the
last minute was we sure whether the fair Geraldine would get there or
not. But my