atest Carmen ever
sung in this theater, isn't it? Now, keep your seat. I find it easier to
stand. Just came for a minute to be presented to--your wife."

His venture carried. The little man, rising, said with conscious pride:
"Mrs. Banks, allow me to make you acquainted with Mr. Morganstein. He's
the man that holds the option on the Annabel. And this is Miss Purdy, Mr.
Morganstein; Miss Lucile Purdy of Sedgewick-Wilson's. I see you know the
rest of the bunch."

"I guess it's up to me to apologize, Mrs. Banks," said Frederic, heavily
humorous. "I wouldn't believe my sister, Mrs. Feversham, when she told me
there were some smart women in those Alaska towns." He paused, laughing,
while his glance moved from Annabel's ironical mouth to her superb
shoulders and rested on the nugget chain; then he said: "From that
interview of yours in tonight's _Press_, Mr. Banks, there isn't much the
country can't produce."

"Likely not," responded the little man quickly. "But my wife was an Oregon
girl. We were engaged, my, yes, long before I saw Alaska. And lately she's
been living around Hesperides Vale. She's got some fine orchard property
over there, in her own right."

"Is that so?" Frederic's speculative look returned to Annabel's face.
"Hesperides Vale. That's in the new reclamation country, east of the
mountains, isn't it? I was intending to motor through that neighborhood
when this accident stopped me and put an end to the trip. They are turning
out some fine apples in that valley, I understand. But it's curtain time.
Awfully glad I've met you; see you again. Lend me your shoulder, will you,
Daniels--around to my box?"

While they were crossing the foyer, he said: "That enlargement came out
fine; you must run up to my office, while it's there to-morrow, to see it.
And that was a great write-up you gave Lucky Banks. It was yours, wasn't
it? Thought so. Bought a hundred copies. Mrs. Feversham is going to take
'em east to distribute in Washington. Double blue-pencilled one,
'specially for the President."

Jimmie smiled, blushing. "That's more than I deserve, but I'm afraid, even
if it reaches his hands, he won't take the time to read it."

"You leave that to Mrs. Feversham," replied Morganstein. "Saw that little
scoop, too, about Tisdale. He's the closest oyster on record."

"The trouble was," said Jimmie wisely, "he started that Indian story and
nobody thought to interrupt with more coal questions."

"You mean he told that