doesn't know Phemie, eh?"

"No, nor ME either, Sol," said that lady warningly.

"Certainly!" continued Sol. "It's his misfortune. You weren't with me
at Gold Hill.--Allow me," he said, turning to Rand, "to present Mrs. Sol
Saunders, wife of the undersigned, and Miss Euphemia Neville, otherwise
known as the 'Marysville Pet,' the best variety actress known on the
provincial boards. Played Ophelia at Marysville, Friday; domestic drama
at Gold Hill, Saturday; Sunday night, four songs in character, different
dress each time, and a clog-dance. The best clog-dance on the Pacific
Slope," he added in a stage aside. "The minstrels are crazy to get her
in 'Frisco. But money can't buy her--prefers the legitimate drama to
this sort of thing." Here he took a few steps of a jig, to which the
"Marysville Pet" beat time with her feet, and concluded with a laugh
and a wink--the combined expression of an artist's admiration for her
ability, and a man of the world's scepticism of feminine ambition.

Miss Euphemia responded to the formal introduction by extending her hand
frankly with a re-assuring smile to Rand, and an utter obliviousness of
her former hauteur. Rand shook it warmly, and then dropped carelessly on
a rock beside them.

"And you never told me you lived up here in the attic, you rascal!"
continued Sol with a laugh.

"No," replied Rand simply. "How could I? I never saw you before, that I
remember."

Miss Euphemia stared at Sol. Mrs. Sol looked up in her lord's face, and