ana, excitedly, hooking
her arm in that of the embroidered jacket. "You're too good to waste!
I need you in my business."

Patricia and Elinor followed, rejoicing in Miss Jinny's instant
success, for, as Elinor whispered to Patricia, if Griffin took Miss
Jinny about, she would be one of the features of the evening.

They went slowly up the palm-banked, stately stairway, through a dim
ante-chamber where a line of twinkling barbaric lamps led to the great
curtained arch of the entrance to the main assembly room.

"Isn't it lovely and mysterious?" murmured Elinor, pausing to enjoy the
sense of isolation that the obscurity of the blurred lamps emphasized.
"I almost hate to lift the curtain. It may be so disappointing."

Patricia set her spangled roses twinkling with a nod of comprehension,
but she did not pause.

"This is nice enough," she said incisively. "It takes away the taste
of the jumbled dressing room, but it makes me all the readier for the
real thing--the people and the lights and the dancing. I simply can't
waste another instant," and she parted the heavy fold and they slipped
into the radiant Arabian land of fairy.

Lights were flashing everywhere, and everywhere silks and jewels
shimmered in oriental profusion, striking the eye with a bewildering
medley of color.

Patricia drew in her breath with a sharp little sigh of satisfied
anticipation, but had no more than a murmur for Elinor's rapturous
exclamations, so busy was she with the brilliant scene before her.

Among the palms and costly rugs that backgrounded a marvelous regal
dais occupying one long end of the great room, sat the glittering
figure of the portly Haroun-al-Raschid, Sultan of Bagdad and husband of
many lovely wives, whose multi-colored costumes made a glowing garden
on the rugs at the foot of the dais, while on the embroidered cushions
at the side of the monarch a lovely Scheherazade in shimmering white
satin with strings of glistening gems in her hair, on her breast, on
her arms and ankles, made an alluring picture of the new-made bride.
Tall palms reared their stately fronds above the group and slave girls,
with fierce Nubians in attendance, waited in mute homage at either side
of the throne. Lamps of brass glittered in the alcoves back of the
great dais, and above it all the roofs and minarets of the ancient city
gloomed in the moonlight of the thousand and second night.

All about the spacious hall were groups of Arabians, of