runny' eggs; it makes me sick to
open for him," was the adored Mazie's way of speaking of her eminent
playwright.

"Well, get his wad first," was the heavy's advice.

Just at this moment Mazie had the delight of seeing Mr. Godfrey
Vandeford enter with his "soup and fish" friend Mr. Dennis Farraday. As
they both had to pass directly by the table at which sat Miss Adair and
Mr. Height, of course they both paused for greetings, which included the
introduction of Mr. Height to Mr. Farraday.

"I could hardly eat in this beautiful cool place when I thought that
maybe you would work on in the hot office with nothing with ice packed
around it for your luncheon," said Miss Adair, as she raised her eyes to
Mr. Vandeford's with the adoration still intact after at least
three-quarters of an hour assault upon it by Mr. Gerald Height's
disturbing personality. "I wanted to go back for you, but Mr. Height
said that Mr. Meyers fed you cold pie when you were busy, and that you
roared dreadfully if anybody interrupted you when you were eating it!"

"He does," Mr. Farraday interjected, smiling down at her in a way that
it was unwise to do in the Orangery at noon; and it lighted a fuse he
little suspected. Miss Violet Hawtry caught the smile in mid-air and
then promptly turned her back and became all charming attention to the
gentleman with whom she was having luncheon, who was no other than the
celebrated Weiner, who had built three theatres in two years and was
building more. He was of the bull-necked type of Hebrew and not of the
sensitive, exquisite type of the sons of the House of David to which
belong the E. & K.'s, and the S. & S., as well as the great B. D.

"When will the new theatre be completed, Mr. Weiner?" Miss Hawtry asked,
as she turned over an iced shrimp and tore at a lettuce leaf with her
fork.

"October first," answered Mr. Weiner, past a mouthful of Russian
herring.

"What will the opening show be?" asked Miss Hawtry, with indifference,
though there was a glint under her thick lashes lowered over her
snapping Irish eyes.

"'The Rosie Posie Girl,'" answered Weiner, and he swallowed his herring
and gave her a shrewd glance at the same time.

"Vandeford will never sell it to you," Miss Hawtry announced calmly, as
she ate the shrimp and the torn lettuce leaf.

"Maybe!" answered Weiner with equal calmness. "What are his plans for
his new show that he is tearing up Forty-second Street about?"

"Road from Septembe