ldish costume.

"Oh, sight!" she called out.

"You are rude," said Irene.

"You're a very rude little girl," said Danby; "but will you come and
have a drink with us?"

"No, thanks," said Jenny, and passed on coldly. That evening she
attacked Irene in the dressing-room.

"To let a man make such a shocking sight of you!"

"He likes to see me in short skirts."

"Whatever for? And those boots!"

"He wants me to marry him," declared Irene.

"Marry you? That's only a rumor, young Irene. I've properly rumbled your
Danby. Marry you! I don't think."

"He is when he comes back from Paris, and he said you were a very bad
example for me."

"Crushed!" said Jenny in mock humility. Then she went on, "Yes, you and
your Parises. Any old way, you can tell Tin Ribs from me I should be
ashamed to make a girl I was fond of look such a terrible sight."

"His brother said he'd like to be introduced to you."

"Yes; I daresay. Tin Ribs the Second, I suppose. No, thanks, not this
little girl."

London deepened into summer, and the golden people coming out of Covent
Garden seemed scattered with star dust from the prodigal June stars,
while the high moon made of Jenny a moonbeam as, in white pique, she sat
in the front of the green omnibus going home.

These were happy days at Covent Garden, and when the season ended Jenny
was sorry. She did not enjoy Yarmouth with its swarming sands and
goat-carriages and dust and fleas and switchback flung down on the
barren coast like a monstrous skeleton. She was glad to come back to
London in the effulgence of a fine September; glad to rehearse again
for the autumn opera season, and pleased, when that was over, to return
to Drury Lane for the Christmas pantomime.

After her second spring season of opera was over she and Irene discussed
the future. Danby had retired to Paris on his business. His rings
sparkled unseen in the safe of a Camden Town pawnbroker, although the
whisky and soda which they served to buy had long ceased to sparkle for
Mrs. Dale. Irene said she was tired of being in three months and out
three months.

"I think we ought to go to the Orient, Jenny."

"I don't care where we go," said Jenny.

"Well, let's."

"All right. I'll meet you Camden Town station to-morrow. Don't you be
late."

"No fear."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Punctual, you're never late!" scoffed Jenny.

"Well, I won't be to-morrow."

On the following morning Jenny dressed herself up to impress the
ballet-ma