. "I didn't know there was so much
royalty in town." "There is. They are royals--that kind of people."
Her hand pointed in the direction of the house from which could be
heard faint strains of music. "They live in palaces, and wave wands,
and eat out of gold plates, and wear silk stockings in the morning,
and--oh, they do everything that's splendid and grand and magnificent
and--"

"Do you think people are splendid and grand and magnificent because
they live in palaces and wear--"

"Goodness gracious!" The big blue eyes surveyed the speaker with
uncertainty. "Are you one of them, too?"

"One what?"

"Damanarkists. Mr. Leimberg is one. He hates people who live in
palaces and wave wands and have _dee_-licious things to eat. He don't
believe in it. Mr. Ripple says it's because he's a damanarkist and
very dangerous. Mr. Leimberg thinks men like Mr. Ripple ought to be
tarred and feathered. He says he'd take the very last cent a person
had and give it to blood-suckers like that"--and again the red little
hand was waved toward the opposite side of the street. "Mr. Ripple
collects our rent. I guess it does take a lot of money to live in a
palace, but I'd live in one if I could, though I'd try not to be very
particular about rents and things. And I'd have chicken-pie for dinner
every day and hot oysters for supper every night; and I'd ask some
little girls sometimes to come and see me--that is, I think I would.
But maybe I wouldn't. It's right easy to forget in a palace, I guess.
Oh, look--there's somebody else going in! Hurry, mister, or you won't
see!"

Following the child up the flight of stone steps, Van Landing stood at
the top and looked across at the arriving cars, whose occupants were
immediately lost to sight in the tunnel, as his new acquaintance
called it, and then he looked at her.

Very blue and big and wonder-filled were her eyes, and, tense in the
effort to gain the last glimpse of the gorgeously gowned guests, she
stood on tiptoe, leaning forward eagerly, and suddenly Van Landing
picked her up and put her on top of the railing. Holding on to his
coat, the child laughed gaily.

"Aren't we having a good time?" Her breath was drawn in joyously.
"It's almost as good as being inside. Wouldn't you like to be? I
would. I guess the bride is beautiful, with real diamonds on her
slippers and in her hair, and--" She looked down on Van Landing. "My
father is in there. He goes to 'most all the scrimptious weddings t