endor of the effect was overpowering to Brewster as well as to his
bewildered guests. Aladdin, it seemed, had fairly outdone himself. The
wonder of it was so complete that it was some time before they could
settle down to the opera, which was Aida, given with an enthusiasm that
only Italians can compass.

During the last intermission Brewster and Peggy were walking in the
foyer. They had rarely spoken since the day of the ride, but Monty
noticed with happiness that she had on several occasions avoided
Pettingill.

"I thought we had given up fairyland when we left the lakes, but I
believe you carry it with you," she said.

"The trouble with this," Monty replied, "is that there are too many
people about. My fairyland is to be just a little different."

"Your fairyland, Monty, will be built of gold and paved with silver.
You will sit all day cutting coupons in an office of alabaster."

"Peggy, do you too think me vulgar? It's a beastly parade, I know, but
it can't stop now. You don't realize the momentum of the thing."

"You do it up to the handle," she put in. "And you are much too
generous to be vulgar. But it worries me, Monty, it worries me
desperately. It's the future I'm thinking of--your future, which is
being swallowed up. This kind of thing can't go on. And what is to
follow it? You are wasting your substance, and you are not making any
life for yourself that opens out."

"Peggy," he answered very seriously, "you have got to trust me. I can't
back out, but I'll tell you this. You shall not be disappointed in me
in the end."

There was a mist before the girl's eyes as she looked at him. "I
believe you, Monty," she said simply; "I shall not forget."

The curtain rose upon the next act, and something in the opera toward
the end seemed to bring the two very close together. As they were
leaving the theater, there was a note of regret from Peggy. "It has
been perfect," she breathed, "yet, Monty, isn't it a waste that no one
else should have seen it? Think of these poverty-stricken peasants who
adore music and have never heard an opera."

"Well, they shall hear one now." Monty rose to it, but he felt like a
hypocrite in concealing his chief motive. "We'll repeat the performance
to-morrow night and fill the house with them."

He was as good as his word. Bertier was given a task the next day which
was not to his taste. But with the assistance of the city authorities
he carried it through. To them it was an evi