ongestion of traffic, upon
some sufficiently busy thoroughfare for a stated period of time.

Certainly they were doing it rather well. They were admirably made
up,--Dicky was a past-master at that sort of thing,--and their
operations so far had been sufficiently like the genuine article to
impose upon the public in general,--if we except Champion and
Coaldust,--even to the point of securing the assistance of the
traffic-directing policeman.

But alas! with that one step further, which is so often fatal to great
enterprises, they had sought to add a finishing touch of realism to
their impersonation by the inclusion of a little feminine interest; and
to that end Dilly had been added to the cast--or more likely had added
herself--in the _role_ of a young person of humble station bringing her
affianced his tea.

And, not for the first time in the history of man, it was the woman who
opened the door to disaster.

Dilly wore a natty print dress--probably my housemaid's--with a tartan
shawl over her head. She had on her thickest shoes, but they were
woefully smart and thin for a girl of her class. Moreover, her hair was
beautifully arranged under the shawl, and her hands--though she had had
the sense to discard her ruby and sapphire engagement-ring--were too
white and her face was too clean to lend conviction to her
impersonation. In short, in her desire to present a pleasing _tout
ensemble_--an object in which I must say she had succeeded to
perfection--Dilly had utterly neglected detail and histrionic accuracy.

Evidently she was not expecting a gallery. Two highly-interested
concentric circles--one of people and one of dogs--round her _fiance's_
encampment was rather more than she had bargained for. She had emerged
quite suddenly from a side street (which I knew led to a shortcut from
home) and now paused irresolutely a few yards away, crimson to the roots
of her hair, what time the errand-boy, with looks of undisguised
admiration, continued to reiterate his desire to be pursued.

The crowd all turned and stared at poor Dilly. Obviously they did not
know what to make of her. Possibly she was some one from the chorus of a
musical comedy going to be photographed, possibly she was merely "a bit
balmy," or possibly she was an advertisement for something, and would
begin to distribute hand-bills presently. So far, she merely looked as
if she wanted to cry.

It was Robin who saw her first. He immediately stepped over his