e conclusions about Billy Price. But as a matter of fact
she was made of marble; and the men, instead of falling in love with
her, made her their confidante, and told her their troubles, and sought
her sympathy and advice.

Some of this was explained to Montague by a young lady, who, as the
evening wore on, came in and placed herself beside him. "My name is
Betty Wyman," she said, "and you and I will have to be friends, because
Ollie's my side partner."

Montague had to meet her advances; so had not much time to speculate as
to what the term "side partner" might be supposed to convey. Betty was
a radiant little creature, dressed in a robe of deep crimson, made of
some soft and filmy and complicated material; there was a crimson rose
in her hair, and a living glow of crimson in her cheeks. She was bright
and quick, like a butterfly, full of strange whims and impulses;
mischievous lights gleamed in her eyes and mischievous smiles played
about her adorable little cherry lips. Some strange perfume haunted the
filmy dress, and completed the bewilderment of the intended victim.

"I have a letter of introduction to a Mr. Wyman in New York," said
Montague. "Perhaps he is a relative of yours."

"Is he a railroad president?" asked she; and when he answered in the
affirmative, "Is he a railroad king?" she whispered, in a mocking,
awe-stricken voice, "Is he rich--oh, rich as Solomon--and is he a
terrible man, who eats people alive all the time?"

"Yes," said Montague--"that must be the one."

"Well," said Betty, "he has done me the honour to be my granddaddy; but
don't you take any letter of introduction to him."

"Why not?" asked he, perplexed.

"Because he'll eat YOU," said the girl. "He hates Ollie."

"Dear me," said the other; and the girl asked, "Do you mean that the
boy hasn't said a word about me?"

"No," said Montague--"I suppose he left it for you to do."

"Well," said Betty, "it's like a fairy story. Do you ever read fairy
stories? In this story there was a princess--oh, the most beautiful
princess! Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Montague. "She wore a red rose in her hair."

"And then," said the girl, "there was a young courtier--very handsome
and gay; and they fell in love with each other. But the terrible old
king--he wanted his daughter to wait a while, until he got through
conquering his enemies, so that he might have time to pick out some
prince or other, or maybe some ogre who was wasting his lands-