ghgrade and popular-priced manufacturers.

"I read about you in the newspapers," Yetta said, as they seated
themselves in adjoining rockers, and Mrs. Gans flashed all the gems of
her right hand in a gesture of deprecation.

"I tell you," she said, "it makes me sick here the way people carries
on. Honestly, Yetta, I don't see Barney only at meals and when he's
getting dressed. Everything is Mister _Scharley_, Mister _Scharley_. You
would think he was H. P. Morgan _oder_ the Czar of _Russland_ from the
fuss everybody makes over him."

Yetta nodded in sympathy and suddenly Mrs. Gans clutched the arm of her
chair.

"There he is now," she hissed.

"Where?" Yetta asked, and Mrs. Gans nodded toward a doorway at the end
of the veranda, on which in electric bulbs was outlined the legend,
"Hanging Gardens." Yetta descried a short, stout personage between fifty
and sixty years of age, arrayed in a white flannel suit of which the
coat and waistcoat were cut in imitation of an informal evening costume.
On his arm there drooped a lady no longer in her twenties, and from the
V-shaped opening in the rear of her dinner gown a medical student could
have distinguished with more or less certainty the bones of the cervical
vertebrae, the right and left scapula and the articulation of each with
the humerus and clavicle.

"That's Miss Feldman," Mrs. Gans whispered. "She's refined like
anything, Yetta, and she talks French better as a waiter already."

At this juncture the dinner gong sounded and Yetta rejoined Elkan in the
social hall.

"What is the trouble you are looking so _rachmonos_, Elkan?" she asked
as she pressed his arm consolingly.

"To-night it's Sol Klinger," Elkan replied. "He's got a dinner on in the
Hanging Gardens for Scharley, Yetta, and I guess I wouldn't get a
look-in even."

"You've got six weeks before you," Yetta assured him, "and you
shouldn't worry. Something is bound to turn up, ain't it?"

She gave his arm another little caress and they proceeded immediately to
the dining room, where the string orchestra and the small talk of two
hundred and fifty guests strove vainly for the ascendency in one
maddening cacophony. It was nearly eight o'clock before Elkan and Yetta
arose from the table and repaired to the veranda whose rockers were
filled with a chattering throng.

"Let's get out of this," Elkan said, and they descended the veranda
steps to the sidewalk. Five minutes later they were seated on a remote