but they had barely
finished when every clock in town began to boom the midnight hour and
there was a wild ringing of bells all over the city. Down-stairs one of
the young men ran to the orchestra, whirled the leader from his seat,
flung off his own coat, and led the crashing music with a tin horn.
Hofer and Gwynne went to the front of the box, glasses in hand. All
below had sprung to their feet and were waving and clicking their
champagne-glasses, singing, catcalling, tooting, cheering. Even Isabel
and Mrs. Hofer leaned forward. In the turmoil they did not notice that
the young woman in the centre of the room was standing on her table, her
befeathered head flung back, draining her glass; but they turned just in
time to see one of her admirers rifle her bodice and wag his trove at
the company.

"This is too much!" cried Mrs. Hofer, furiously, and running to the
back of the box. "Nicolas, I insist!" But Nicolas was enjoying himself
immensely and paid no attention.

Isabel had been about to follow Mrs. Hofer when she lost her breath and
nearly fell over the edge of the box. Lady Victoria, accompanied by a
man who was unmistakably a pugilist, had entered by a side door.

Isabel's brain seemed to eliminate every thought it had ever possessed
and hurriedly to remodel down to one agonizing point. The pair were
endeavoring to force their way forward to a table that evidently had
been reserved for them. Gwynne was leaning over the railing drinking to
Mr. and Mrs. Trennahan. In a moment his interested eyes would rove over
the crowd again. Isabel suddenly fell on him, bearing him backward.

"Take me out--quick!" she gasped. "I am horribly ill!"

Gwynne, grasping his hat, was fairly borne out of the box. As Isabel was
ghastly and trembling he assumed that she was really ill, and made no
protest, but half-carried her down the stair. They attracted no
attention and reached the sidewalk in a moment.

"If we can only find a carriage!" he said, solicitously. "You never can
walk up those hills. What an atmosphere that was! I don't wonder you
came a cropper. I hope the Hofers won't mind--"

"Nobody minds anything."

She took his arm and they walked up the street. The bells were still
ringing, horns tooting, but the street was comparatively empty. At the
corner a Salvation Army corps was singing hymns to a flabby and penitent
congregation. Just beyond was a row of hacks awaiting the weary
reveller, and in a moment Gwynne and Isab