rth, "I see. May I ask her name?"

"Annie Ashton," said I, simply. "She played Nannette in Binkley &
Bing's production of 'The Silver Cord.' She is to have a better part
next season."

"Take me to see her," said North.

Miss Ashton lived with her mother in a small hotel. They were out
of the West, and had a little money that bridged the seasons. As
press-agent of Binkley & Bing I had tried to keep her before the
public. As Robert James Vandiver I had hoped to withdraw her; for if
ever one was made to keep company with said Vandiver and smell the
salt breeze on the south shore of Long Island and listen to the ducks
quack in the watches of the night, it was the Ashton set forth above.

But she had a soul above ducks--above nightingales; aye, even above
birds of paradise. She was very beautiful, with quiet ways, and
seemed genuine. She had both taste and talent for the stage, and she
liked to stay at home and read and make caps for her mother. She was
unvaryingly kind and friendly with Binkley & Bing's press-agent.
Since the theatre had closed she had allowed Mr. Vandiver to call in
an unofficial role. I had often spoken to her of my friend, Spencer
Grenville North; and so, as it was early, the first turn of the
vaudeville being not yet over, we left to find a telephone.

Miss Ashton would be very glad to see Mr. Vandiver and Mr. North.

We found her fitting a new cap on her mother. I never saw her look
more charming.

North made himself disagreeably entertaining. He was a good talker,
and had a way with him. Besides, he had two, ten, or thirty millions,
I've forgotten which. I incautiously admired the mother's cap,
whereupon she brought out her store of a dozen or two, and I took a
course in edgings and frills. Even though Annie's fingers had pinked,
or ruched, or hemmed, or whatever you do to 'em, they palled upon me.
And I could hear North drivelling to Annie about his odious Adirondack
camp.

Two days after that I saw North in his motor-car with Miss Ashton and
her mother. On the next afternoon he dropped in on me.

"Bobby," said he, "this old burg isn't such a bad proposition in the
summer-time, after all. Since I've keen knocking around it looks
better to me. There are some first-rate musical comedies and light
operas on the roofs and in the outdoor gardens. And if you hunt up
the right places and stick to soft drinks, you can keep about as cool
here as you can in the country. Hang it! when you come to thi