have listened to a barking Pomeranian.

"Marion!" cried Mr. Scobell.

"A five-legged rabbit has been born in Carbondale, Southern Illinois,"
she announced.

Mr. Scobell cursed the five-legged rabbit.

"Never mind about your rabbits. I want to hear that piece you read
before. The one about the Prince of Monaco. Will--you--listen, Marion!"

"The Prince of Monaco, dear? Yes. He has caught another fish or
something of that sort, I think. Yes. A fish with 'telescope eyes,' the
paper says. And very convenient too, I should imagine."

Mr. Scobell thumped the table.

"I've got it. I've found out what's the matter with this darned place.
I see why the Casino hasn't struck its gait."

"_I_ think it must be the _croupiers_, dear. I'm sure I never
heard of _croupiers_ in fancy costume before. It doesn't seem
right. I'm sure people don't like those nasty Hindoos. I am quite
nervous myself when I go into the Indian room. They look at me so
oddly."

"Nonsense! That's the whole idea of the place, that it should be
different. People are sick and tired of having their money gathered in
by seedy-looking Dagoes in second-hand morning coats. We give 'em