s
consent. Afterward he learned to his dismay that Charlie Carter was one
of those invited, and he would have liked to have Alice withdraw; but
she did not wish to, and he could not make up his mind to insist.

These train trips were the very latest diversion of the well-to-do; a
year ago no one had heard of them, and now fifty parties were leaving
New York every month. You might see a dozen of such hotel-trains at
once at Palm Beach; there were some people who lived on board all the
time, having special tracks built for them in pleasant locations
wherever they stopped. One man had built a huge automobile railroad
car, shaped like a ram, and having accommodation for sixty people. The
Prentice train had four cars, one of them a "library car," finished in
St. Iago mahogany, and provided with a pipe-organ. Also there were
bath-rooms and a barber-shop, and a baggage car with two autos on board
for exploring purposes.

Since the episode of Mrs. Winnie, Oliver had apparently concluded that
his brother was one of the initiated. Not long afterward he permitted
him to a glimpse into that side of his life which had been hinted at in
the songs at the bachelors' dinner.

Oliver had planned to take Betty Wyman to the theatre; but Betty's
grandfather had come home from the West unexpectedly, and so Oliver
came round and took his brother instead.

"I was going to play a joke on her," he said. "We'll go to see one of
my old flames."

It was a translation of a French farce, in which the marital
infidelities of two young couples were the occasion of many mishaps.
One of the characters was a waiting-maid, who was in love with a
handsome young soldier, and was pursued by the husband of one of the
couples. It was a minor part, but the young Jewish girl who played it
had so many pretty graces and such a merry laugh that she made it quite
conspicuous. When the act was over, Oliver asked him whose acting he
liked best, and he named her.

"Come and be introduced to her," Oliver said.

He opened a door near their box. "How do you do, Mr. Wilson," he said,
nodding to a man in evening dress, who stood near by. Then he turned
toward the dressing-rooms, and went down a corridor, and knocked upon
one of the doors. A voice called, "Come in," and he opened the door;
and there was a tiny room, with odds and ends of clothing scattered
about, and the girl, clad in corsets and underskirt, sitting before a
mirror. "Hello, Rosalie," said he.

And