d out. They were nowhere near their
own crowd. In fact, she couldn't see Elise or Mona, though Philip was
visible between some rickety armour and a tattered curtain. Very
handsome he looked, too, his dark, and just now gloomy, face thrown
into relief by the "artistic" background.

"Apparently, Mr. Van Reypen is not enjoying himself," Blaney commented,
with a quiet chuckle. "He's not our sort."

This remark jarred upon Patty, and she was about to make a spirited
retort, when the music began.

A girl was at the piano. Her gown, of burlaps, made Patty think it had
been made from an old coffee sack. But it had a marvelous sash of
flaming vermilion velvet, edged with gold fringe, and in her black hair
was stuck a long, bright red quill feather, that gave her an Indian
effect.

"I think her gown is out of key," Patty whispered, "and I am sure her
music is!"

Blaney smiled. "She is a law unto herself," he replied, "that is an
arbitrary minor scale, played in sixths and with a contrary motion."

Patty stared. This was a new departure in music and was interesting.

"Note the cynicism in the discords," Blaney urged, and Patty began to
wonder if she could be losing her mind or just finding it.

The performance concluded and a rapt silence followed. It seemed
applause was undesired by these geniuses.

Philip stirred, restlessly, and looked over at Patty. She looked away,
fearing he would silently express to her his desire to go home, and she
wanted to stay to see more.

The girl who had played glided to a side seat, and her place was taken
by another young woman, who presented an even more astonishing
appearance. This time, the costume was of a sort of tapestry, heavily
embroidered in brilliant hued silks. It was not unbeautiful, but it
seemed to Patty more appropriate for upholstery purposes than for a
dress.

The lady recited what may have been poems, and were, according to
Blaney's whispered information, but as they were in some queer foreign
language, they were utterly unintelligible.

"What was it all about?" Patty asked, as the recitations were at last
over.

"My dear child, couldn't you gather it all,--all, from the marvellous
attitudinising,--the wonderful intoning----"

"'Deed I couldn't! I've no idea what she was getting at, and I don't
believe you have, either."

"Oh, yes, it was the glory of a soul on fire,--an immolation of genius
on the altar of victory----"

"That sounds to me like