voice,
when Jim, glancing up from his phonograph, beheld Katrina in her
rose-laden hat, leaning far over the wall. If he had stopped to reflect,
he might have ignored the vision, for he was but man, and the vision a
guilelessly pretty one, but he did not stop to reflect. With Jim, to see
a thing was to proclaim it abroad. Immediately, he yelled:

"Hey! Get on to the lady on the wall! Hey! Mr. Connor, come around here.
There's somebody on the wall. Hey!"

At once Katrina, to her utmost discomfort, became the centre of the
stage. Everybody turned, saw her, and began to stare. The silken ladies,
the velvet gentlemen, delayed their return to modern apparel, and took
her in. Jim stared clamorously. Mr. Connor, rounding the summer-house,
glared angrily. To Katrina, even the long building blinked its windows
at her, and she thought, with sudden longing, of Grandfather McBride.
She wished she had not come. Most of all, she wished to go, but she did
not quite dare.

At once, Mr. Connor took charge of the situation. "Say, young lady," he
demanded, in a truculent manner, "what do you mean by gettin' into these
grounds and rubberin' at us over our wall? Don't you know you can be run
in for passin' those signs? Didn't you see that gate?"

"Oh, yes," faltered Katrina; "yes--I saw the gate."

"Well, how'd you get past that gate and them signs," Mr. Connor wanted
to know.

"I--I climbed the gate," hesitated Katrina.

Clearly this was not what Mr. Connor expected. Such simplicity must
cover guile. A suppressed smile glimmered through the group and Mr.
Connor became more suspicious of Katrina.

"I don't want no kiddin' now, do you hear?" he burst forth. "You're in a
tight place, young woman, and you may as well wake up to the fact at
once. The Knickerbocker is doin' things on a plane of high art, and our
methods are our own. Now, I want to know who you represent? And
freshness don't go, d'you see?"

Katrina hardly heard Mr. Connor. Her mind was occupied with the freedom
that lay clear behind her, and the possible patrol-wagons and police
stations before her. Perhaps she might conciliate this red-faced man by
allowing him to talk, by being mild and meek and polite. Perhaps a
chance might come for a desperate attempt at escape. But Mr. Connor,
conversing fluently, read her very soul.

"Bring that there light ladder, Jim," he interrupted himself to order,
"and if you try to get away, young woman, it'll be the worse for you.
No