Evening star., 1935-01-27

took her to night club on MOntmartre.
What would she think of Pile ou Face,
in the rue Pigalle, with Americans
dancing all night, the women in shim-
mering gowns the music playing inces-
sanity? And what would she think of
those jaded faces, and the dancers spin
ming about on the contracted floor, so
close together that they were like words
crowded upon pin-point?
We engaged corner table, so that we
could see everything. II used to waltz,
oh, years ago, when I was young girl"
Aunt Eliza amazed us by saying, after
she had tasted one little cocktail.
Really" almost shouted Dick. Come,
then, you've got to spin with me, Aunt
Eliza!" And before she was aware of it
she had been seized about the waist,
and wa atched them whirl out upon the
crowded floor.
Dick was a fine dancer, and he man.
aged, in some adroit way, to keep Aunt
Eliza in step with him, but could see
how she faltered now and then. Scared,
she reached our table after one delirious
turn.
my poor feet!" she exclaimed, as she
was pumped into her seat "They do
hurt me now. But oh, it was fun!" Then,
as people in her station often do, she
said wise thing: pleasure makes you
tired, too"
e. Across the room saw beautiful face.
Dick saw it at the same instant. He
gave a little gasp. For it was Muriel,
with party of friends, and if we looked
astonshed, there is no describing the
interest in Muriel Dorchester's eyes.
Dick rose, but before he left us he
whispered to Aunt Eliza: when I bring
her over don't speak but one word. Shed
know that Dayton, Ohio, never talked
as you talk" And he was gone.
Aunt Eliza had caught his meaning.
Soon, for the first time, perhaps, she
was to be noticed by the young lady
over there.
"Oh!" came from her lips-nothing
else. For in an instant Muriel was lean
ing over the table, meeting Aunt Eliza
Plunkett, shaking hands with her, say
ing how happy she was to make her
acquaintance, and hoping she was en-
joying Paris and all its wickedness She
was sweetness itself.
"Oh!" was the only word Aunt Eliza
uttered. She was used to obeying orders.
And then Muriel turned to me, laughed
with Dick, and he took her back to her
friends.
I dreamed that night of an alley cat
whose fur had been brushed by gentle
hands until it shone. And again the
cat strangely resembled Mrs Bifin.
THREE evenings later, in London,
Muriel, her shopping in Paris done,
came to dine at the Mansions. She swept
in, more glorious than ever, and Mrs.
Biffin, slipped back once more into her
servitude, came out to help her off with
her cloak. 1t was as though she had never
been away. It was as if her drab life
had run in the same dull groove. I
thought Muriel gave the bareSt sugges-
tion of start as her eyes flicked across
the old lady's face. But, if she did, it
was only suggestion. Muriel turned
Slightly and half lifted her arms to be
relieved of her coat, otherwise ignoring
Mrs. Biffin as completely as If she were
the old desk in the corner.
Then was aware that Dick had no.
ticed. His voice, warm, vibrant as
always, asked:
And what became of Soho?"
"Oh, she is cozily ensconed in my
boudoir-probably on pillow in a sunny
window at the moment. Do you know,
1 have come to adore her! In the pres
ence of her sincere affection for me I
never think of her loWly origin"