onc, garcon!" interrupted the taller of the two girls, "un cafe
glace pour moi."

"Et moi," answered her companion gayly, "Je prends une limonade!"

"Here! Hold on!" thundered good-humoredly the man from Denver; "git 'em
a good drink. Rye, garsong! yes, that's it--whiskey--I see you're on,
and two. Deux!" he explains, holding up two fat fingers, "all straight,
friend--two whiskeys with seltzer on the side--see? Now go roll your
hoop and git back with 'em."

"Oh, non, monsieur!" cried the two Parisiennes in one breath; "whiskey!
jamais! ca pique et c'est trop fort."

At this juncture the flower woman arrived with a basketful of red roses.

"Voulez-vous des fleurs, messieurs et mesdames?" she asked politely.

"Certainly," cried the Steel King; "here, Maud and Mamie, take the lot,"
and he handed the two girls the entire contents of the basket. The
taller buried her face for a moment in the red Jaqueminots and drank in
their fragrance. When she looked up, two big tears trickled down to the
corners of her pretty mouth. In a moment more she was smiling! The
smaller girl gave a little cry of delight and shook her roses above her
head as three other girls passed. Ten minutes later the two possessed
but a single rose apiece--they had generously given all the rest away.

[Illustration: (portrait of woman)]

The "copper twins" had been oblivious of all this. They had been hanging
over the low balustrade, engaged in a heart-to-heart talk with two
pretty Quartier brunettes. It seemed to be really a case of love at
first sight, carried on somewhat under difficulties, for the "copper
twins" could not speak a word of French, and the English of the two chic
brunettes was limited to "Oh, yes!" "Vary well!" "Good morning," "Good
evening," and "I love you." The four held hands over the low railing,
until the "copper twins" fairly steamed in talk; warmed by the sun of
gaiety and wet by several rounds of Highland dew, they grew sad and
earnest, and got up and stepped all over the Steel King and the man from
Denver, and the two Parisiennes' daintily slippered feet, in squeezing
out past the group of round tables back of the balustrade, and down on
to the polished floor--where they are speedily lost to view in the maze
of dancers, gliding into the whirl with the two brunettes. When the
waltz is over they stroll out with them into the garden, and order wine,
and talk of changing their steamer date.

The good American, with his spotless