n, the Flower Garden's newest
"hostess," sat watching the revels with a distant hauteur. Miss Hobson
was looking her most regal in old gold and black, and a sorrowful gulp
escaped the stricken Mr. Cracknell as he shambled beneath her eye.

"If I told you," he moaned in Sally's ear, "what... was that your ankle?
Sorry! Don't know what I'm doing to-night... If I told you what I had
spent on that woman, you wouldn't believe it. And then she throws me
down. And all because I said I didn't like her in that hat. She hasn't
spoken to me for a week, and won't answer when I call up on the 'phone.
And I was right, too. It was a rotten hat. Didn't suit her a bit. But
that," said Mr. Cracknell, morosely, "is a woman all over!"

Sally uttered a stifled exclamation as his wandering foot descended on
hers before she could get it out of the way. Mr. Cracknell interpreted
the ejaculation as a protest against the sweeping harshness of his last
remark, and gallantly tried to make amends.

"I don't mean you're like that," he said. "You're different. I could see
that directly I saw you. You have a sympathetic nature. That's why I'm
telling you all this. You're a sensible and broad-minded girl and can
understand. I've done everything for that woman. I got her this job as
hostess here--you wouldn't believe what they pay her. I starred her in
a show once. Did you see those pearls she was wearing? I gave her those.
And she won't speak to me. Just because I didn't like her hat. I wish
you could have seen that hat. You would agree with me, I know, because
you're a sensible, broad-minded girl and understand hats. I don't know
what to do. I come here every night." Sally was aware of this. She had
seen him often, but this was the first time that Lee Schoenstein, the
gentlemanly master of ceremonies, had inflicted him on her. "I come here
every night and dance past her table, but she won't look at me. What,"
asked Mr. Cracknell, tears welling in his pale eyes, "would you do about
it?"

"I don't know," said Sally, frankly.

"Nor do I. I thought you wouldn't, because you're a sensible,
broad-minded... I mean, nor do I. I'm having one last try to-night, if
you can keep a secret. You won't tell anyone, will you?" pleaded Mr.
Cracknell, urgently. "But I know you won't because you're a sensible...
I'm giving her a little present. Having it brought here to-night. Little
present. That ought to soften her, don't you think?"

"A big one would do it bette