is, should circumstance--and Providence--enable me to
redeem the waistcoat, without which--eh--hem--I understand no visitor
would be admitted to those noble precincts."

The Lady Sarah expressed her opinion even more decidedly.

"Don't 'e talk," she said pleasantly, "can't you 'ear the thick 'uns a
rattlin' in his mouse-trap. Poor little man and 'im a horphin. Stun me
mother if I ain't a goin' ter Jay's termerrer ter buy mournin' in honor
of him."

"I presume," continued the Archbishop, "that we shall all be admitted to
this entertainment as it were--that is--as the colloquial expression
goes--on the nod. It will be enough to mention that we are the
proprietor's friends."

"You shall have a season-ticket for life, Archbishop. Just you tell me
where you want a church built and I'll see that it's done. Of course I
don't mind your chaff--I'm dead in earnest and the money will be there."

"A real contract this time?" Alban suggested kindly.

"A real contract. I saw Philips about it to-day, and he knows a man who
is Pierpont Morgan's cousin. We are to open in New York in September and
be in San Francisco the following week."

"Rather a long journey, isn't it, old chap?"

"Oh, they do those things out there. I'm told you play Hamlet one night
and Othello six hours afterwards, which is really the next night because
of the long distances and the differences in the latitudes. Ask the
Archbishop. I expect he hasn't forgotten all his geography."

"A Cambridge man," said the Archbishop, loftily, "despises geography.
Heat, light, electricity, the pure and the impure mathematics--these are
his proper study. I rise superior to the occasion and tell you that San
Francisco is a long way from New York. The paper in which I wrapped a
ham sandwich yesterday--the advertisement of a shipping company, I may
inform you--brings that back to my recollection. San Francisco is the
thickness of two slices of stale bread from the seaport you mention. And
I believe there are Red Indians in between."

The Lady Sarah murmured lightly the refrain of the old song concerning
houses which stood in that annoying position; but Alban had already
lighted a cigarette and was watching the girl's face critically.

"You've had some luck to-day, Sarah?"

"A bloomin' prophet and that I won't deny. Gar'n, Dowie."

"But you did have some luck?"

"Sure and certain. What d'ye fink? A bit of a boy, same as 'Betty' 'ere,
'e comes up and says, 'What'll ye t