nights, operatic sorts of nights, with music floating in
the air, gay groups in the streets, a stage imitation of nature in the
squares with the thick foliage and the heavy shadows cast on the asphalt
by the electric lights, the brilliant shops, the nonsense of the summer
theatres, where no one expected anything, and no one was disappointed,
the general air of enjoyment, and the suggestion of intrigue. Sometimes,
when Mavick was over, a party was made up for the East Side, to see the
foreign costumes, the picturesque street markets, the dime museums, and
the serious, tragical theatres of the people. The East Side was left
pretty much to itself, now that the winter philanthropists had gone
away, and was enjoying its summer nights and its irresponsible poverty.

They even looked in at Father Damon's chapel, the dimly lighted fragrant
refuge from the world and from sin. Why not? They were interested in the
morals of the region. Had not Miss Tavish danced for one of the guilds;
and had not Carmen given Father Damon a handsome check in support of
his mission? It was so satisfactory to go into such a place and see
the penitents kneeling here and there, the little group of very plainly
dressed sinners attracted by Father Damon's spiritual face and unselfish
enthusiasm. Carmen said she felt like kneeling at one of the little
boxes and confessing--the sins of her neighbors. And then the
four--Carmen, Miss Tavish, Mavick, and Jack--had a little supper
at Wherry's, which they enjoyed all the more for the good action of
visiting the East Side--a little supper which lasted very late, and was
more and more enjoyed as it went on, and was, in fact, so gay that when
the ladies were set down at their houses, Jack insisted on dragging
Mavick off to the Beefsteak Club and having something manly to drink;
and while they drank he analyzed the comparative attractions of Carmen
and Miss Tavish; he liked that kind of women, no nonsense in them; and
presently he wandered a little and lost the cue of his analysis, and,
seizing Mavick by the arm, and regarding him earnestly, in a burst of
confidence declared that, notwithstanding all appearances, Edith was the
dearest girl in the world.

It was at this supper that the famous society was formed, which the
newspapers ridiculed, and which deceived so many excellent people in New
York because it seemed to be in harmony with the philanthropic endeavor
of the time, but which was only an expression of t