arney, who had not come by mistake, avoided gluing himself to
the first chair. Being an Eldorado king, he had felt it incumbent to
assume the position in society to which his numerous millions entitled
him; and though unused all his days to social amenities other than the
out-hanging latch-string and the general pot, he had succeeded to his
own satisfaction as a knight of the carpet. Quick to take a cue, he
circulated with an aplomb which his striking garments and long
shambling gait only heightened, and talked choppy and disconnected
fragments with whomsoever he ran up against. The Miss Mortimer, who
spoke Parisian French, took him aback with her symbolists; but he
evened matters up with a goodly measure of the bastard lingo of the
Canadian _voyageurs_, and left her gasping and meditating over a
proposition to sell him twenty-five pounds of sugar, white or brown.
But she was not unduly favored, for with everybody he adroitly turned
the conversation to grub, and then led up to the eternal proposition.
"Sugar or bust," he would conclude gayly each time and wander on to the
next.

But he put the capstone on his social success by asking Frona to sing
the touching ditty, "I Left My Happy Home for You." This was something
beyond her, though she had him hum over the opening bars so that she
could furnish the accompaniment. His voice was more strenuous than
sweet, and Del Bishop, discovering himself at last, joined in raucously
on the choruses. This made him feel so much better that he
disconnected himself from the chair, and when he finally got home he
kicked up his sleepy tent-mate to tell him about the high time he'd had
over at the Welse's. Mrs. Schoville tittered and thought it all so
unique, and she thought it so unique several times more when the
lieutenant of Mounted Police and a couple of compatriots roared "Rule
Britannia" and "God Save the Queen," and the Americans responded with
"My Country, 'Tis of Thee" and "John Brown." Then big Alec Beaubien,
the Circle City king, demanded the "Marseillaise," and the company
broke up chanting "Die Wacht am Rhein" to the frosty night.

"Don't come on these nights," Frona whispered to Corliss at parting.
"We haven't spoken three words, and I know we shall be good friends.
Did Dave Harney succeed in getting any sugar out of you?"

They mingled their laughter, and Corliss went home under the aurora
borealis, striving to reduce his impressions to some kind of order.