d just gawped.

Another thing that helped was the fact that Veronica could sing,--no
common parlor warblin', mind you, of such pieces as "The Rosary" or
"Land of the Sky Blue Water," but genuine operatic stuff, such as you
hear Louise Homer and Schumann-Heink shootin' on the three-dollar
records. Why not? Hadn't Veronica studied abroad for two years under
Parcheesi, who'd begged her almost on his knees to do the title role in
a new opera he was goin' to try out before the King of Bavaria? Uh-huh!
We had that straight from Mrs. Adams, who wa'n't much for boostin' the
fam'ly. But no stagework for her!

In private, though, Veronica was good-natured and obligin'; so it was an
easy after-dinner cue for a young gent to lead her to the piano and
persuade her to tear off a few little operatic gems, while he leaned on
one elbow and gazed soulful at her. And I expect they didn't have to
know such a lot about grand opera to play the leanin' part, either.

Just how much tumult was caused under dress shirt fronts durin' them few
weeks I couldn't say for certain, but at least four or five of the young
gents had bad attacks. The odd thing about it, though, was the sudden
way they dropped out. One day they'd be sendin' her flowers, and
followin' her around to teas and lunches and dances, gazin' longin' at
her every chance they got, and displayin' the usual mush symptoms, and
the next they wouldn't show up at all. They'd disappeared.

That's what puzzled Sadie so much at first. She couldn't make out what
had happened,--whether they'd got rash and gone on the rug too soon, or
had been run over by a truck while crossin' the street. Fin'ly she comes
across one of the quitters one afternoon as I'm towin' her down
Fifth-ave. on her way home from somewhere, and she puts me up to give
him the quiz.

"There, Shorty!" says she, stoppin' sudden. "There's Monty Willetts, who
was so crazy about Veronica. No one has seen him for a week. Couldn't
you ask if anything serious has happened to him?"

I expect her idea was for me to put him through the third degree so
subtle he wouldn't suspect. Well, leavin' Sadie gazin' into a jew'lry
window, I overhauls him and does my best.

"Say, Monty," says I, jabbin' him playful in the ribs, "how about you
and that Miss Adams? Did you follow her to the frost line, or what?"

"That's an excellent way to put it, McCabe," says he. "And I'm chilly
yet from the experience."

"Sporty lad!" says I. "Did you try