"Well," laughed Norman, "you're such a transparent, susceptible
infant-in-arms that I'll go with you."

"As shepherd," suggested Eric, "as long as Mae won't have you. But come,
we must go down and call on these people. It won't do at all for you to
appear suddenly this evening, and say, 'I'll relieve my friend here of
one of you.'"

"Oh, what a bore. Is that necessary? Won't a card or a box of Stillman's
bon-bons do them? Well, if it must be, come along, then."




CHAPTER V.


It was evening, and the brilliantly lighted theatre was crowded to
overflowing. Of course there were English who scowled at the Americans,
and Americans who smiled on every one and ate candy while Othello
writhed in jealous rage, and a scattering of Germans with spectacles and
a row of double-barrelled field glasses glued over them, and Frenchmen
with impudent eyes and elegant gloves, and a general filling in of
Italians, with the glitter here and there of nobility, and still oftener
of bright uniforms. Finally there was a modicum of true gentry, and
these not of any particular nation or class. It is pleasant to name our
party immediately after referring to these goodly folks. They had a fine
box, and although their ranks were thinned by the loss of two cavaliers,
nobody seemed to care. Albert and Edith were perfectly happy side by
side, and Mrs. Jerrold was well contented to observe her daughter's