- tomers were flying. It was the day of a grand review
at Longchamps, and the sight of the marching regiment, with the band ringing out in rhythmic beauty, seemed the finest thing in the world.
Fifi found herself, with very little effort on her part, pushed out on the sidewalk, and the next thing she was being swept along with the eager crowd following the soldiers. At the corner of a large street the regiment turned off toward the Champs Elysées, the crowd parted, and Fifi saw her way back clear to the chocolate shop. But staring her in the face was a magnificent furniture and bric-à-brac shop, while next it was a superb magasin des modes with a great window full of gowns, wraps and hats.
Here was the place for Fifi to get rid of her ten thousand francs. It seemed to Fifi as if a benignant Providence had rewarded her virtuous design by placing her just where she was; so she walked boldly into the magasin des modes.
The manager of the place, a handsome, showily-dressed and bejeweled woman, looked suspiciously at a young and pretty girl, arriving without maid or companion of any sort—but Fifi, bringing into play some of the arts she had learned at the Im-
