THE GAY BARTENDER

eighty eight

seldom do.Now,I think I have dealt with that subject.Shal

we turn to business?”

At Fletcher's suggestion I made my will. I had no inton. tion of dying for a good many years, but I realized the har. ards of travel in suchunhealthy regions as I proposed to visit.I left my entire fortune to the British Museum,where Papa had spent so many happy hours. I felt ratherlsentimen-tal about it; Papa might just as well have passed on in the Reading Room,and it would possibly have taken the atten-dants more than two days to realize he was no longer breath. ing.

My last act before departing was to engage a companion. I did not do this for the sake of propriety. Oppressed as my s*x is in this supposedly enlightened decade of 1880, a woman of my age and station in life can travel abroad alone without offending any but the overly prudish. I engaged a companion because-in short, because I was lonely. All my life I had taken care of Papa. I needed someone, not to look after me, but the reverse. Miss Pritchett was a perfect com-panion.She was a few years my senior, but one never would have supposed it from her dress and manner. She affected dainty frilled gowns of thin muslin which hung awkwardly on her bony frame,and her voice was a preposterous high-pitched squeal.She was clumsy; her stupidity was so intense it verged on simplemindedness; she had a habit of fainting, or,at least, of collapsing into a chair with her hand pressed to her heart,whenever the slightest difficulty occurred.I looked forward to my association with Miss Pritchett. Prod-ding her through the malodorousstreets of Cairo and the desers of Palestine would provide sy active mind with the distraction it needed.

After all,Miss Pritchett failed me.

People of that sort

to the typhoid,like the weak-minded

Though she recovered,she dek uinded feture for ge

female she was.for two weeks, and it was manifest that she would not be able to keep up with my pace until after a long convale-scence. I therefore dispatched her back to England in the care of a clergyman and his wife, who were leaving Rome. Naturally I felt obliged to pay her salary until she was able to secure another post. She left weeping, and trying, as the carriage left, to kiss my hand.

She left a vacuum in my carefully laid plans, and she was the cause of my ill humor when I left the hotel that fateful day. I was already two weeks behind schedule, and all the accommodations had been arranged for two persons. Should I try to find another companion, or resign myself to solitary travel? I must make my decision soon, and I was musing about it as I went for a final visit to the desolate Cow Pasture which was the seat of the ancient Forum of Rome.

It was a brisk December afternoon; the sun was intermit-tently obscured by clouds. Piero looked like a cold dog, despite the warm jacket I had purchased for him. I do not feel the cold. The breezy day, with its alternating shadow and sunshine, was quite appropriate to the scene. Broken columns and fallen stones were obscured by tumbled masses of weeds, now brown and brittle. There were other visitors rambling about. I avoided them. After reading a few of the broken inscriptions, and identifying, to my satisfaction, the spots where Caesar fell and where the senators awaited the arrival of the Goths, I seated myself on a fallen column.

Piero huddled at my feet with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around the basket he had been carrying. I found the hard, cold seat comfortable enough; there is some-thing to be said for a bustle, in fact. It was compassion for Piero that made me order him to open the basket the hotel kitchen had provided. However, he refused my offer of hot tea with a pitiful look. I presume he would have accepted brandy.

I was drinking my tea when I noticed that there was a cluster of people some distance away, who seemed to bedisclosing eyes of an exquisite deep blue.They stared dreamily about for a time, and then fixed themselves on my facc. The girl's expression changed; a touch of color came to her thin cheeks, and she struggled to sit up.

“Be still,”I said,putting her down with one hand and beckoning Piero with the other. “You have fainted and are still weak.Partake of some nourishment, if you please, be. fore we proceed to further measures to relieve you.”

She tried to protest; her helpless state and the circle of staring,unfriendly eyes clearly distressed her. I was per. fectly indifferent to the observers, but since she seemed em-barrassed,I decided to rid myself of them. I told them to go. They did so, except for the indignant gentleman whose coat was over the girl.

“Your name and hotel, sir,” I said, cutting short a loud protest. “Your coat will be returned later this evening. A person of your excessive bulk should not wear such heavy clothing in any case.”

The lady by his side,who had the same rotund outlines and hard red face,exclaimed aloud.

“How dare you, madame! I have never heard of such a thing!”

“I daresay you have not,” I agreed, giving her a look that made her step back. “I do not doubt that it is too late to awaken in you any faint sense of Christian compassion or normal human emotion, so I shan't try. Take yourself away, madame,and this-I can hardly say 'gentleman'-this male person with you.”

As I spoke I was administering bits of food from my bas-ket to the fallen girl.The fastidious manner in which she ate, despite her obvious hunger, confirmed my assumption that she was a lady.She seemed better when she had finished a piece of bread and the remainder of my tea;and since the crowd had retired to a distance I was able,with Piero's as-sistance,to raise her to her feet.We then proceeded,by carriage,to my hotel.