r fifteenth until New York October first."

"What theater in New York?"

"I don't know." As she made this answer Miss Hawtry looked up and caught
a snap in Weiner's small black eyes, perched on each side of the hump of
his red nose.

"Has the show got goods?" he asked.

"I'm going to put some into it," answered Miss Hawtry calmly.

"Why?"

"I like Mr. Dennis Farraday, who's Vandeford's angel. I don't want to
see Van take the money out of his pocket and get away with it." Miss
Hawtry was dealing in half-truths to a lie expert.

"Hooked Farraday yet?"

"Not quite."

"No use bargaining with a woman when she's fishing for a man, but if he
slips the hook come to me and I'll show you a new bait. When do you
open?"

"Twenty-third of September, at Atlantic City."

"I'll be there."

"I hope you will, and--" but the rest of Miss Hawtry's remark was cut
off by Mr. Dennis Farraday's genial greeting, backed by Mr. Vandeford's
more restrained pleasure at happening upon her and her co-plotter, to
whom she introduced Mr. Farraday.

The exchange of amenities was as brief as it was cordial, but as Mr.
David Vandeford and Mr. Jonathan Farraday passed on to a table which
the discreet head waiter had reserved in case of the unexpected and
tardy arrival of just such personages as Mr. Godfrey Vandeford and his
friend, Mr. Farraday, Miss Hawtry had answered a low-voiced question
from Mr. Farraday with a sadly tender smile and the words:

"At eight?"

"The Claridge got me a box for the Big Show and a table at the Grove
Garden for to-night, Van," remarked Mr. Farraday, as he unfolded his
napkin. "It is the coolest place in town, and we might as well let the
kid get just one good peep before she goes back into the shell ... if
she goes. I'll take Miss Hawtry on and leave the box number for you and
Miss Adair."

"Right-o," answered Mr. Vandeford, with a growl. For the life of him he
could not understand just why Mr. Gerald Height should have the
privilege of feeding his author alone, while he seemed to be always
forced to enjoy her company in the presence of others. He looked across
the room, met the gray eyes laughing at him over a glass that was
plainly iced tea, and was forced to exchange smiles with his downy
little chicken, who was delightedly peeping out of her shell.

"I think Mr. Vandeford is the most wonderful man I ever met," confided
Miss Adair to Mr. Height, with no suspicion of the incitation such a
remark woul