not to show any consciousness of them, and we sat through the first
part of the concert without taking notice of one another. Then the
man leaned forward and touched me on the shoulder.

"Will you let me take your programme a minute?"

"Why, certainly," said I.

He took it, and after a vague glance at it he passed it to his wife,
who gave it in turn to the young girl. She studied it very briefly,
and then, after a questioning look, offered it back to me.

"Won't you keep it?" I entreated. "I've quite done with it."

"Oh, thank you," she answered in her tender voice, and she and the
wife looked hard at the man, whom they seemed to unite in pushing
forward by that means.

He hemmed, and asked, "Have you been in Saratoga much?"

"Why, yes," I said; "rather a good deal. My wife and I have been
here three or four summers."

At the confession of my married state, which this statement
implicated, the women exchanged a glance, I fancied, of triumph, as
if they had been talking about me, and I had now confirmed the
ground they had taken concerning me. Then they joined in goading
the man on again with their eyes.

"Which hotel," he asked, "should you say had the most going on?"