do you keep the bombs?"

"The bombs?" repeated Bartholomew, laughing. "That's pretty good--the
bombs. Did you hear her, Henry? She wants to know where we keep the
bombs. Say, that's pretty good."

Edith swung herself onto a vacant desk and sat dangling her feet over
the edge. Her brother took a seat beside her.

"Well," he asked, absent-mindedly, "how do you like New York this
trip?"

"Not bad. I'll be over at the Biltmore with the Hoyts until Sunday.
Can't you come to luncheon to-morrow?"

He thought a moment.

"I'm especially busy," he objected, "and I hate women in groups."

"All right," she agreed, unruffled. "Let's you and me have luncheon
together."

"Very well."

"I'll call for you at twelve."

Bartholomew was obviously anxious to return to his desk, but
apparently considered that it would be rude to leave without some
parting pleasantry.

"Well"--he began awkwardly.

They both turned to him.

"Well, we--we had an exciting time earlier in the evening."

The two men exchanged glances.

"You should have come earlier," continued Bartholomew, somewhat
encouraged. "We had a regular vaudeville."

"Did you really?"

"A serenade," said Henry. "A lot of soldiers gathered down there in
the street and began to yell at the sign."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Just a crowd," said Henry, abstractedly. "All crowds have to howl.
They didn't have anybody with much initiative in the lead, or they'd
probably have forced their way in here and smashed things up."

"Yes," said Bartholomew, turning again to Edith, "you should have been
here."

He seemed to consider this a sufficient cue for withdrawal, for he
turned abruptly and went back to his desk.

"Are the soldiers all set against the Socialists?" demanded Edith of
her brother. "I mean do they attack you violently and all that?"

Henry replaced his eye-shade and yawned.

"The human race has come a long way," he said casually, "but most of
us are throw-backs; the soldiers don't know what they want, or what
they hate, or what they like. They're used to acting in large bodies,
and they seem to have to make demonstrations. So it happens to be
against us. There've been riots all over the city to-night. It's May
Day, you see."

"Was the disturbance here pretty serious?"

"Not a bit," he said scornfully. "About twenty-five of them stopped in
the street about nine o'clock, and began to bellow at the moon."

"Oh"--She changed the subject. "You're glad to see