It was the Pageant of the Prophets which gave Jerry Paxton his first chance. There were several links in the primrose chain of fortune which led him from the first opportunity to the last. The first and most important may be said to have been Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon, who opened her house for a portrait exhibition. She had an eye for men as well as for art, so when handsome Jerry appeared, she annexed him. The second link was Jerry's sense of dramatic values, which made him play up to this somewhat elderly siren. The third was the gods, who had ever smiled on Jerry Paxton.

"Professor James Parkhurst, I consider you a colossal failure as an educator," said Francesca, his daughter, known to friend and family as Bambina, or Bambi for short. Professor Parkhurst lifted a startled face from his newspaper and surveyed his only child across the breakfast table.

"I won't have it I won't have it If they come, I'll run away and hide " shouted the child, wildly. "That will be very rude. No one acts like that-no one except a barbarian," said Miss Wilder, calmly. "I want to be a bar--one of those things you said." "You act like one most of the time." The child brain caught at a new idea. "What is that-that what you said?"

Barbara Garratry was thirty and Irish. To the casual observer the world was a bright coloured ball for her tossing. When she was a tiny mite her father had dubbed her "Bob, Son of Battle," because of certain obvious, warlike traits of character, and "Bob" Garratry she had been ever since. She had literally fought her way to the top, handicapped by poverty, very little education, the responsibility of an invalid and dependent father. She had been forced to make all her own opportunities, but at thirty she was riding the shoulders of the witch success.