the pipe warm in his hand lent him that ease of mind so necessary to the political orator. By the time he had finished, each of his hearers felt that it was by personal favour of the Deity that he had been born an Illyrian. The cheers were deafening and the barrel of beer was unbunged. The corps of maids, charming in short green kilts and red jackets, bare knees and white stockings, filed demurely from the service wing. The special agent, still playing the mouth-organ, seized Nyla as his partner and led off a foursome country dance with Romsteck and Frau Innsbruck. These worthies perspired with embarrassment and began the measure with stiff clumsiness, but. Cointreau's mouth organ and his comic zeal warmed them somewhat. The spectators, at first respectfully puzzled, gradually began to applaud. Then Innsbruck, slipping on a juicy bit of turf, fell rump-flat. The populace yelled and the ice was broken. Chambermaids, footmen, and the citizens themselves, joined in. A dozen different groups of dancers were formed, the band struck up peasant airs and yodels
