part creditably at a moment's notice if one of the
leading artists broke down, and who was altogether one of the best,
kindest, and least conceited human beings that ever joined an opera
company. She brought her great colleague a little bunch of violets.

Least expected of them all, there was Schreiermeyer, with a basket
of grape fruit in his tightly-gloved podgy hands; and he was smiling
cheerfully, which was an event in itself. They followed Margaret up to
the promenade deck after her maids had gone below, and stood round her
in a group, all talking at once in different languages.

Griggs chanced to be the only other passenger on that part of the deck
and he joined the party, for he knew them all. Margaret gave him her
hand quietly and nodded to him. Signor Stromboli was effusive in his
greeting; Herr Tiefenbach gave him a solemn grip; little Fraeulein
Ottilie smiled pleasantly, and Schreiermeyer put into his hands the
basket he carried, judging that as he could not get anything else out
of the literary man he could at least make him carry a parcel.

'Grape fruit for Cordova,' he observed. 'You can give it to the
steward, and tell him to keep the things in a cool place.'

Griggs took the basket with a slight smile, but Stromboli snatched it
from him instantly, and managed at the same time to seize upon the
book Herr Tiefenbach had brought without dropping his own big box of
sweetmeats.

'I shall give everything to the waiter!' he cried with exuberant
energy as he turned away. 'He shall take care of Cordova with his
conscience! I tell you, I will frighten him!'

This was possible, and even probable. Margaret looked after the broad
figure.

'Dear old Stromboli!' she laughed.

'He has the kindest heart in the world,' said little Fraeulein Ottilie
Braun.

'He is no a musician,' observed Herr Tiefenbach; 'but he does not sing
out of tune.'

'He is a lunatic,' said Schreiermeyer gravely. 'All tenors are
lunatics--except about money,' he added thoughtfully.

'I think Stromboli is very sensible,' said Margaret, turning to
Griggs. 'He brings his little Calabrian wife and her baby out with
him, and they take a small house for the winter and Italian servants,
and live just as if they were in their own country and see only their
Italian friends--instead of being utterly wretched in a horrible
hotel.'

'For the modest consideration of a hundred dollars a day,' put in
Griggs, who was a poor man.

'I wish my bills