ut
beyond that----"

"You're on, then," says I. "Come along while I stack you up against
Madame Zenobia, the Mystic Queen."

We finds the old girl sittin' at a little table, her chin propped up in
one hand and a cigarette danglin' despondent from her rouged lips. She's
a picture of gloomy days.

"Look what I picked up on Fifth Ave.," says I.

And the minute she spots him and takes in the chestnut whiskers, them
weary old eyes of hers lights up. "By the kind stars and the jack of
spades!" says she. "A wise one from the East! Who is he?"

"Allow me, Madame Zenobia, to present the Hon. Sour Milk," says I.

"Pardon, Memsahib," he corrects. "I am Sarrou Mellik kuhn Balla Ben,
from the Temple of Aj Wadda, in Burmah. I am far from home and without
rupees."

"Allah be praised!" says Madame Zenobia.

"Ah!" echoes Sour Milk, in a deep boomin' voice that sounds like it came
from the sub-cellar. "Allah il Allah!"

"Enough!" says Madame Zenobia. "The Sage of India is my favorite control
and this one has the speech and bearing of him to the life. You may
leave us, child of the sun, knowing that your wish shall come true. That
is, provided the cook person appears."

"Oh, she'll be here, all right," says I. "They never miss a date like
that. There'll be two of 'em, understand. The thin one will be Maggie,
that I ain't got any dope on. You can stall her off with anything. The
fat, waddly one with the two gold front teeth will be Stella. She's the
party with the wilful disposition and the late case of wanderlust.
You'll know her by the snapshot, and be sure and throw it into her
strong if you want to collect that other ten."

"Trust Zenobia," says she, wavin' me away.

Say, I'd like to have been behind the curtains that Thursday afternoon
when Stella Flynn squandered four dollars to get a message from the
spirit world direct. I'd like to know just how it was done. Oh, she got
it, all right. And it must have been mighty convincin', for when Vee and
I drives up to the Ellinses that night after dinner to see if they'd
noticed any difference in the cook, or if she'd dropped any encouragin'
hints, I nearly got hugged by Mrs. Robert.

"Oh, you wonderful young person!" says she. "You did manage it, didn't
you?"

"Eh?" says I.

"Stella is going to stay with us," says Mrs. Robert. "She is unpacking
her trunk! However did you do it? What is this marvelous recipe of
yours?"

"Why," says I, "I took Madame Zenobia and added Sour