dence of insanity, but
there was something princely about it and they were tolerant. The
manager of the opera house was less complacent, and he had an
exclamatory terror of the damage to his upholstery. But Brewster had
discovered that in Italy gold is a panacea for all ills, and his
prescriptions were liberal. To him the day was short, for Peggy's
interest in the penance, as it came to be called, was so keen that she
insisted on having a hand in the preliminaries. There was something
about the partnership that appealed to Monty.

To her regret the DeMille dinner interfered with the opening of the
performance, but Monty consoled her with the promise that the opera and
its democratic audience should follow. During the day Mrs. Dan had been
deep in preparations for her banquet, but her plans were elaborately
concealed. They culminated at eight o'clock in the Cova not far from
the Scala, and the dinner was eaten in the garden to the sound of
music. Yet it was an effect of simplicity with which Mrs. Dan surprised
her guests. They were prepared for anything but that, and when they
were served with consomme, spaghetti--a concession to the chef--and
chops and peas, followed by a salad and coffee, the gratitude of the
crowd was quite beyond expression. In a burst of enthusiasm "Subway"
Smith suggested a testimonial.

Monty complained bitterly that he himself had never received a ghost of
a testimonial. He protested that it was not deserved.

"Why should you expect it?" exclaimed Pettingill, "when you have risen
from terrapin and artichokes to chops and chicory? When have you given
us nectar and ambrosia like this?"

Monty was defeated by a unanimous vote and Mrs. Dan's testimonial was
assured. This matter settled, Peggy and Mrs. Valentine, with Brewster
and Pettingill, walked over to the Scala and heard again the last two
acts of Aida. But the audience was different, and the applause.

The next day at noon the chauffeurs from Paris reported for duty, and
five gleaming French devil-wagons steamed off through the crowd in the
direction of Venice. Through Brescia and Verona and Vicenza they
passed, scattering largess of silver in their wake and leaving a trail
of breathless wonder. Brewster found the pace too fast and by the time
they reached Venice he had a wistful longing to take this radiant
country more slowly. "But this is purely a business trip," he thought,
"and I can't expect to enjoy it. Some day I'll come back and d