nd over-dressed, obtrusive and unobtrusive,
parvenu and aristocrat. Once Merrihew saw a fine old gentleman wearing
the Honor Legion ribbon in his buttonhole, and his heart grew warm and
proud. Here was an order which was not to be purchased like the Order of
Leopold and the French Legion of Honor. To win this simple order a man
must prove his courage under fire, must be the author of an heroic
exploit on the battle-field. And besides, there was this advantage: to
servants in Europe a button or a slip of ribbon in the lapel signifies
an order, a nobility of one sort or another, and as a consequence they
treat the wearer with studied civility.

"I wish I had remembered," sighed Merrihew, after gazing at the old
gentleman.

"Remembered what?"

"Why, I've got a whole raft of medals I won at college. I could wear
them quite handily over here."

"Buy an order. Any pawnshop will have a few for sale. You could wear it
in Switzerland or France, and nobody would be any the wiser."

"But I'm serious."

"So am I."

Merrihew brightened, reached into a vest pocket, and to Hillard's horror
produced a monocle, which he gravely screwed in his eye.

"Where the--"

"Sh! If you make me laugh I'll drop it."

Merrihew stared about calmly and coldly, as he had seen some Englishmen
do. A waiter, seeing the sun flash on the circle of crystal, hurried
over, firmly believing he had been heliographed.

"_Niente_," said Merrihew, waving him aside. "You see?" he whispered to
Hillard, who was rather amused at this tomfoolery. "Brings 'em without a
word. Hanged if I don't wear it the rest of the trip. There's a
certain--whatdyecallit?--eclaw about the demmed thing."

"Wear it, by all means. You'll be as amusing as a comic weekly. But if
you ever drop it, I'll step on it accidentally."

"I can keep it in my eye all right," said Merrihew, "so long as I don't
laugh. Now, while there's time, let us see some of the sights; the
Golden House of Nero, for instance, and the Forum, the Colosseum, St.
Peter's and the Vatican; just a passing glance at a few things, as it
were." Merrihew as he spoke kept a sober countenance.

It deceived Hillard, who eyed him with unfeigned wonder, marveling that
any rational mind should even think of such a thing, much less propose
it.

"Why not run up to Venice and back?" he inquired sarcastically.

"Is it as far as that?" innocently. "Well, we'll make it just St.
Peter's and the Vatican."

"Impossible! In