, as far as Rose was concerned, drew
blank. He'd have taken more active measures for finding her; would have
made inquiries of people he knew, had it not been for a sort of morbid
delicacy about interfering in a concern that not only was none of his,
but that was supremely the concern of Rodney Aldrich, his friend.

But from his spring pilgrimage, he came back wearing a deep-lying and
contented smile, and a few days later, after a talk over the telephone
with Rodney, he headed a column of gossip about the theater, with the
following paragraph:

"_Come On In_, as the latest of the New York revues is called, is much
like all the others. It contains the same procession of
specialty-mongers, the same cacophony of rag-time, the same gangway out
into the audience which refreshes tired business men with a thrilling,
worm's-eye view of dancing girls' knees _au naturel_. And up and down
this straight and narrow pathway of the chorus there is the customary
parade of the same haughty beauties of Broadway. Only in one item is
there a deviation from the usual formula: the costumes. For several
years past, the revues at this theater (the Columbian) have been
caparisoned with the decadent colors and bizarre designs of the exotic
Mr. Grenville Melton. I knew there had been a change for the better as
soon as I saw the first number, for these dresses have the stimulating
quality of a healthy and vigorous imagination, as well as a vivid
decorative value. They are exceedingly smart, of course, or else they
would never do for a Broadway revue, but they are also alive, while
those of Mr. Melton were invariably sickly. Curiously enough, the name
of the new costume designer has a special interest for Chicago. She is
Doris Dane, who participated in _The Girl Up-stairs_ at the Globe. Miss
Dane's stage experience here was brief, but nevertheless her striking
success in her new profession will probably cause the formation of a
large and enthusiastic 'I-knew-her-when' club."

Jimmy expected to produce an effect with it. But what he did produce
exceeded his wildest anticipations. The thing came out in the three
o'clock edition, and before he left the office that afternoon (he stayed
a little late, it is true, and it wasn't his "At home" to press agents
either) he had received, over the telephone, six invitations to dinner;
three of them for that night.

He declined the first two on the ground of an enormous press of work
incident to his fresh re