Evening star., 1922-01-15

EMS WHO HAVE BEEN SO KIND
| party. just asked him to come in and
have a bite with US about Z. 1 expect
he'd slicked himself up all he could.
for his mop of gray hair was brushed
back fairly neat, he'd had a shave,
and his shiny black suit was more or
less free from dust If not from grease
spots.
| But here was Inez in her spiffiest
! dinner gown and with her wonderful
hair water-waved to the last notch,
me all fused up in a jade green frock
to match my gooseberry green eyes.
Barry Platt in his soup-and-fish, and
Madame Rosier-but 1 can't throw in
Madame Roster offiland like that. I
need to take full breath and start
| in fresh.
| She's a large, imposing old girl
even in her working clothes. But in
J that gorgeous costume which she
must have dug from the bottom of an
old trunk-well, she had plush
horse looking like a clipped broncho.
Even the figured cretonne window
hangings looked modest beside her.
and when you considered the huge
velvet hat with the waving plumes,
and the puffs and ringlets under it,
and the bracelets and brooches and
| rings she wore. you could only gasp.
To state it badly. the madame was
| a knockout
| AS for Mrs. Lindgren, she was SIM
ply vivid in a plaid waist and a
striped skirt. Shed jabbed a rhine
stone pin through her doorknob hair
knot and let it go at that. A Kourken
had done his best, too, for he'd leased
real braid-bound frock coat for the
evening and blown himself to a new
fez as bright as fire hydrant
NO wonder Signor Bardoni stood
! blinking at Nus. Then when he
saw the table all gay with artificial
cherry blossoms and paper jonquiIs,
and the big roast turkey at one end,
, and his name on the place card in
front of it. he seemed to get the drift.
For minute I thought the old boy
was going to break down and do the
| sob act. but after a few gulps he got
a grip on himself.
"You-you have done zees for meo'
he asked.
Sure" says Madame Roster. Pour
| vous, certainment. 1t is your birth
| days, is it not?"
"Ah-h-h, my good frien'sr' says he,
spreading out his lean hands "Eet ees
too much for a poor old mans. IL
have not the speech for thank you all,
but can say that feel great joy
here" and he thumps his chest to in
dicate the exact spot.
Say" whispers Barry, hes got
Dave Warfield beaten a mile"
must say. though, that he made
a poor job Of carving that turkey, but
finally Mrs. Lindgren helped out with
some expert assistance and the feast
could have sent in better one, for
there were all sorts of little dainties
to go with the turkey. Snails, for in
stance, roasted in pan by Madame
| Roster. And a nameless Swedish
vegetable that Mrs. Lindgren had
brought. What helped most, though.
| were the two bottles of Chateau
Yquem which the madame must have
found when she dug out that amazing
| dress. Barry nearly caused a riot,
however, when he called for a lump
Of ice to put in his wine glass.
Mon, nom" roared Madame Roster.
II have warm it for two hours SO 1t
| should be chaud. It is vintage wine
that. No ice"
MY error" says Barry. grinning
| across at me.
Probably she knew what she was
talking about, but I'll say that when
you let this Yquem stuff run a tenn
perature it certainly has a kick in it.
Bardoni don't seem to mind, however.
Maybe he was too busy to notice that
his glass was being refilled oftener
than that Of any one else. By the time
we got to the patisserie and coffee he
] was talking real confidential to Inez.
I Evidently he was telling her some-
thing too thrilling to keep. for sud-
denly she makes an announcement.
IT find out now," she says, "who
Signor Bardoni is. He is the great
| Italian music composer-operas and
| all that"
'Is it true?' demands Madame Ro-
| sier.
Bardoni mods solemn. Il would say
it only to my good frien's," says he.
| But in Milano they knew. Yes, the
whole city. The king himself has
come-to hear my work, and he pinned
on my coat a decoration. My great
| opera, though, was never heard. I
had finished that, eet was to be pro-
duced, when misfortune came. I am
accuse Of being & Malatesta- Me! But
an enemy tell that to the police. They
find papers he had put in my house.
| am arrest, placed in prison. Then
my friends arrive. They make for me
| an escape, hide me on a steamer, and
say I must go to America. Ten years
1 am here. and all the time try to
have my great opera produce. But no.
In gees country there is no room for
the opera Of Italy 30 in my little
room here go hungry and when I
am most sad take my old violin and
play the great musie-to myself"