him into all the newspaper columns, or that stubborn and infinitely
versatile fight against odds which inspired the artist of PUCK.

Tommy bore the cartoon to Mrs. Carriswood, beaming.
She had not seen that light in his face since the memorable June
afternoon in the Opera-house. He sent the paper to his mother,
who vowed the picture "did not favor Tommy at all, at all.
Sure Tommy never had such a red nose!" The old man, however,
went to his ex-saloon, and sat in state all the morning,
showing Tommy's funny picture.

It was about this time that Mrs. Carriswood observed something
that took her breath away: Tommy Fitzmaurice had the presumption
to be attentive to my lady's goddaughter, Miss Van Harlem.
Nor was this the worst; there were indications that Miss Van Harlem,
who had refused the noble names and titles of two or three continental
nobles, and the noble name unaccompanied by a title of the younger
son of an English earl, without mentioning the half-dozen "nice"
American claimants--Miss Van Harlem was not angry.

The day this staggering blow fell on her, Mrs. Carriswood was
in her dressing-room, peacefully watching Derry unpack a box
from Paris, in anticipation of a state dinner. And Miss Van Harlem,
in a bewitching wrapper, sat on the lounge and admired.
Upon this scene of feminine peace and happiness enter the Destroyer,
in the shape of a note from Tommy Fitzmaurice! Were they going on
Beatoun's little excursion to Alexandria? If they were, he would move
heaven and earth to put off a committee meeting, in order to join them.
By the way, he was to get the floor for his speech that afternoon.
Wouldn't Mrs. Carriswood come to inspire him? Perhaps Miss Van Harlem