because everyone knows me, and if they don’t they ought to.”

I was swept away by the exuberance of her attack, and, blushing violently, I took the small hand which she offered, and assured her that I was in fact Sullivan Smith’s cousin, and her sincere admirer.

“That’s all right,” she said, raising her superb shoulders after a special manner of her own. “Now you shall take me to Sullivan, and he shall introduce us. Any friend of dear old Sully’s is a friend of mine. How do you like my new song?”

“What new song?” I inquired incautiously.

“Why, ‘Who milked the cow?’ of course.”

I endeavored to give