es wear, do you think?" She
arched her brows at him as she propounded this innocent question.

Ames chuckled. "I'll tell you what it is this year," he sagely
replied. "It's diamonds in the heels!" He gave a sententious nod of
his head. "I overheard Kathleen and her mother discussing plans.
And--do you want to know next season's innovation? By George! I'm a
regular spy." He stopped and laughed heartily at his own treasonable
deceit.

"Yes! yes!" whispered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles eagerly, as she drew her
chair closer. "What is it?"

"One condition," replied Ames, holding up a thick finger.

"Of course! Anything!" returned the grasping woman.

"Well, I want to get better acquainted with your charming ward," he
whispered.

"Of course; and I want you to know her better. That can be arranged
very easily. Now what's the innovation?"

"Colored wigs," said Ames, with a knowing look.

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles settled back with a smile of supreme satisfaction.
She would boldly anticipate next season at the coming Charity Ball.
Then, leaning over toward Ames, she laid her fan upon his arm. "Can't
you manage to come and see us some time, my sister and Carmen? Any
time," she added. "Just call me up a little in advance."

The blare of trumpets and the crash of drums drew their attention
again to the stage. Ames rose and bowed his departure. A business
associate in a distant box had beckoned him. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles
dismissed him reluctantly; then turned her wandering attention to the
play.

But Carmen sat shrouded in thoughts that were not stimulated by the
puppet-show before her. The tenor shrieked out his tender passion, and
the tubby soprano sank into his inadequate arms with languishing
sighs. Carmen heeded not their stage amours. She saw in the glare
before her the care-lined face of the priest of Simiti; she saw the
grim features and set jaw of her beloved, black-faced Rosendo, as he
led her through the dripping jungle; she saw Anita's blind, helpless
babe; she saw the little newsboy of Cartagena; and her heart welled
with a great love for them all; and she buried her face in her hands
and wept softly.

CHAPTER 15

"Wait, my little princess, wait," the Beaubien had said, when Carmen,
her eyes flowing and her lips quivering, had again thrown herself into
that strange woman's arms and poured out her heart's surcease. "It
will not be long now. I think I see the clouds forming."

"I want to go back to Simiti, to Padre