f an
excellent and irreproachable kind, and were out in the world; and Lady
Chaloner felt no kind of responsibility about Madeline Hohenschreien,
"Maddy," as she was called by her intimates. She expressed distinct
approval of her, in fact, in the words, "Maddy has such a lot of go
about her, hasn't she? It does one good to hear her laughin'." So when
"Maddy" instantly and light-heartedly undertook to help the bazaar by
performing at the Cafe Chantant, that was to go on at stated times all
through the evening, Lady Chaloner felt that she was doing a distinctly
good work. It was no small undertaking, however, marshalling her forces
and trying to arrange that every one of the stallholders should not be
selling exactly the same thing--namely, the small carved wooden objects,
the staple commodity of Schleppenheim, made by the surrounding
peasantry.

The bazaar was drawing near, and Lady Chaloner was very busy indeed.
Indefatigably did she send for Mrs. Birkett several times every day,
begging her to bring a pencil and paper that they might make lists. Mrs.
Birkett's experience, however, was limited to sales of work under
somewhat different conditions in England, and she was not of very much
use, except as a moral support and outward material embodiment of the
cause for which the bazaar was being undertaken. She sought comfort in
her inmost soul in the thought of all the money that must surely flow
into the coffers of the Church after this magnificent undertaking; but
she was secretly out of her element and ill at ease, when Lady Chaloner
pounced upon her to talk of the bazaar, at an hour when the most
fashionable people in Europe, with their best clothes on, were walking
up and down while the band was playing, or established at little tables
exchanging intimate pleasantries with one another and greetings with the
people that passed.

She was sitting by Lady Chaloner, in compulsory attendance upon that
benefactress of the Church, a few days before the bazaar was to come
off.

"Now, let me see," said Lady Chaloner, "what are you goin' to have on
your stall?"

"On mine?" said Mrs. Birkett, rather taken aback.

"Yes," said Lady Chaloner, "aren't you goin' to have a stall?"

"You see," said Mrs. Birkett, "I have not any of the things here
that--er--I generally use for the purpose," and she thought regretfully
of a big box at home which contained a sort of rolling stock of hideous
articles that travelled, so to speak, betw