w can they--how can
they!"

Then the Beaubien would pat her soft, glowing cheek and murmur, "Wait,
dearie, wait." And the tired girl would sigh and close her eyes and
dream of the quiet of little Simiti and of the dear ones there from
whom she now heard no word, and yet whom she might not seek, because
of the war which raged about her lowly birthplace.

The gay season was hardly a month advanced when Mrs. Ames angrily
admitted to herself that her own crown was in gravest danger. The
South American girl--and because of her, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles and her
blase sister--had completely captured New York's conspicuous circle.
Mrs. Hawley-Crowles apparently did not lack for funds, but entertained
with a display of reckless disregard for expense, and a carelessness
of critical comment, that stirred the city to its depths and aroused
expressions of wonder and admiration on every hand. The newspapers
were full of her and her charming ward. Surely, if the girl's social
prestige continued to soar, the Ames family soon would be relegated to
the social "has-beens." And Mrs. Ames and her haughty daughter held
many a serious conference over their dubious prospects.

Ames himself chuckled. Night after night, when the Beaubien's dinner
guests had dispersed, he would linger to discuss the social war now in
full progress, and to exchange with her witty comments on the
successes of the combatants. One night he announced, "Lafelle is in
England; and when he returns he is coming by way of the West Indies. I
shall cable him to stop for a week at Cartagena, to see Wenceslas on a
little matter of business for me."

The Beaubien smiled her comprehension. "Mrs. Hawley-Crowles has become
nicely enmeshed in his net," she returned. "The altar to friend Jim is
a beauty. Also, I hear that she is going to finance Ketchim's mining
company in Colombia."

"Fine!" said Ames. "I learned to-day that Ketchim's engineer, Harris,
has returned to the States. Couldn't get up the Magdalena river, on
account of the fighting. There will be nothing doing there for a year
yet."

"Just as well," commented the Beaubien. Then abruptly--"By the way, I
now hold Mrs. Hawley-Crowles's notes to the amount of two hundred and
fifty thousand dollars. I want you to buy them from me and be ready to
turn the screws when I tell you."

Ames roared with laughter. "Shrewd girl!" he exclaimed, pinching her
cheek. "All right. I'll take them off your hands to-morrow. And by the
way