knowledge, if you would advance yourself. Come
along!"

And the judge led him into the thick of the crowd.

Little more than a year before the judge had said, in speaking of
Ishmael: "Of course, owing to the circumstances of his birth, he never
can hope to attain the position of a gentleman, never." But the judge
had forgotten all about that now. People usually did forget Ishmael's
humble origin in his exalted presence. I use the word "exalted" with
truth, as it applied to his air and manner. The judge certainly forgot
that Ishmael was not Society's gentleman as well as "nature's nobleman,"
when, taking him through the crowd, he said:

"I shall introduce you to some young ladies. The first one I present you
to will be Miss Tourneysee, the daughter of General Tourneysee. You must
immediately ask her to dance; etiquette will require you to do so."

"But," smiled Ishmael, "I am already engaged to dance the next set with
Bee."

"You verdant youth. So, probably, is she--Miss Tourneysee, I
mean--engaged ten sets deep. Ask her for the honor of her hand as soon
as she is disengaged," replied the judge, who straightway led Ishmael up
to a very pretty young girl, in blue crepe, to whom he presented the
young man in due form.

Ishmael bowed and proffered his petition.

The case was not so hopeless as the judge had represented it to be. Miss
Tourneysee was engaged for the next three sets, but would be happy to
dance the fourth with Mr. Worth.

At that moment the partner to whom she was engaged for the quadrille,
then forming, came up to claim her hand, and she arose and slightly
courtesied to Judge Merlin and Ishmael Worth, and walked away with her
companion.

Ishmael looked around for his own lovely partner, and Bee, smiling at a
little distance, caught his eye. He bowed to Judge Merlin and went up to
her and led her to the head of one of the sets about to be formed.

In the meantime, "Who is he?" whispered many voices, while many eyes
followed the stranger who had come among them.

Among those who observed the entrance of Ishmael was the Viscount
Vincent. Half bending, in an elegant attitude, with his white-gloved
hand upon the arm of the sofa where Miss Merlin reclined, he watched the
stranger. Presently he said to her:

"Excuse me, but--who is that very distinguished-looking individual?"

"Who?" inquired Claudia. She had not noticed the entrance of Ishmael.

"He who just now came in the room--with Judge Merlin,