lter of the awning and began
unrolling the camel.

"Let's go," he commanded.

Several minutes later a melancholy, hungry-looking camel, emitting
clouds of smoke from his mouth and from the tip of his noble hump,
might have been seen crossing the threshold of the Howard Tate
residence, passing a startled footman without so much as a snort,
and leading directly for the main stairs that led up to the ballroom.
The beast walked with a peculiar gait which varied between an
uncertain lockstep and a stampede--but can best be described by the
word "halting." The camel had a halting gait--and as he walked he
alternately elongated and contracted like a gigantic concertina.

III

The Howard Tates are, as everyone who lives in Toledo knows, the
most formidable people in town. Mrs. Howard Tate was a Chicago Todd
before she became a Toledo Tate, and the family generally affect
that conscious simplicity which has begun to be the earmark of
American aristocracy. The Tates have reached the stage where they
talk about pigs and farms and look at you icy-eyed if you are not
amused. They have begun to prefer retainers rather than friends as
dinner guests, spend a lot of money in a quiet way and, having lost
all sense of competition, are in process of growing quite dull.

The dance this evening was for little Millicent Tate, and though
there was a scattering of people of all ages present the dancers
were mostly from school and college--the younger married crowd was
at the Townsends' circus ball up at the Tallyho Club. Mrs. Tate was
standing just inside the ballroom, following Millicent round with
her eyes and beaming whenever she caught her eye. Beside her were
two middle-aged sycophants who were saying what a perfectly exquisite
child Millicent was. It was at this moment that Mrs. Tate was
grasped firmly by the skirt and her youngest daughter, Emily, aged
eleven, hurled herself with an "Oof--!" into her mother's arms.

"Why, Emily, what's the trouble?"

"Mamma," said Emily, wild-eyed but voluble, "there's something out
on the stairs."

"What?"

"There's a thing out on the stairs, mamma. I think it's a big dog,
mamma, but it doesn't look like a dog."

"What do you mean, Emily?"

The sycophants waved their heads and hemmed sympathetically.

"Mamma, it looks like a--like a camel."

Mrs. Tate laughed.

"You saw a mean old shadow, dear, that's all."

"No, I didn't. No, it was some kind of thing, mamma--big. I was
down