"I suppose the dame's fussing up for us to the limit, Peter," observed
that Mr. Saint Louis while he emptied a glass of amber liquid and
removed a cherry from its depths with his fingers and devoured it with
the greatest relish. "Gee, but the genuine American cocktail is one
great drink! Have another, Peter. You're so solemn that I am beginning
to believe that _belle Marquise_ did put a dent in your old
Quaker heart after all."

"There was something in that girl's eyes as they followed us, William,
that no cocktail ever shaken could get out of my mind," made answer
the very grave Mr. Peter Scudder of Philadelphia. "Do you suppose her
Uncle got there or that anything happened? I wish I had waited with
her."

"Well, either Uncle did arrive or we'll see her in the Passing Follies
week after next, third from the left, in as little as Comstock allows.
When I've had a good look at bare arms my judgment connects mighty
easily with bare--"

By that moment I had poised in my hand a very fragile cup of nicely
steaming tea and it was a very natural thing that I should hurl its
contents in the face of that Mr. William Raines of the country of
Saint Louis.

_Voila_! What happened? Did I stay to fight the duel with that,
what I know now to call a cad, and thus be put back into the person of
the Marquise de Grez and Bye for a wicked Uncle to murder. I did not.
I placed upon the table two large pieces of money and I lost myself in
the crowd of persons who had risen and gathered to sympathize with
poor Mr. Saint Louis. No one had remarked my escape, I felt sure, as I