Puslapio vaizdai

Mr. Allerby accompanied them upon the distance could not be walked in all these diversions, playing the role of twice that time by the dainty, highhost automatically, in rather a dazed heeled, distinctly un-British footgear of fashion. His eyes were rarely off his his sister-in-law. He felt that to consister-in-law, people noticed; but nei- tinue for another day in the false posither were those of Judge Cary, for tion of host on charity was beyond his instance, nor of as many other members power. His conscience positively ached of the Coffin Club as could find an excuse at the thought of Dr. Grant, self-banto bask in her im

ished from his partial smiles.

comfortable home Even her husband

to the penance of seemed to like to

a cot in his conlook at her, a fact

sulting - room. unprecedented in

And there may Winfield's experi

have been other ence of the middle

strains on his enaged married.

durance which he Lest it be feared

has never

menthat the franchise

tioned. of the Winfield

He looked up Street Railway

and down the Company was in

street desperately danger, Lady

for a possible conSybil herself may


But be quoted:

there was nothing “Do you know,

in sight, not even it's the oddest

the Prewitt pony, thing about your

which for once in little tram-car. I

his life he would -- the Winfield populace find it sitting

thrilled and apbaste

have suffered was about in different

gladly. Nothing, parts of town, and

that is, except in the very early

Juggernaut, waitmorning I fancy I hear it passing up the ing idly under the maples near by. street; but I've never yet been able to Lady Sybil's eye lit upon this at the catch it in action."

same moment as did Mr. Allerby's. "Nor ever will," murmured Judge “There's that absurd little car! What Cary. "You see, it-it feels the heat. a pity," she said, "that it is n't running Like the rest of us, yourself always to-day, or we could go to the train in it." excepted, Madam, it is not so young as Mr. Allerby flushed suddenly and it used to be."

deeply. "How absurd of you!" she laughed, “I dare say I could manage to run tapping him deliciously with her fan. you down in it, if you would n't mind."

The only hitch in arrangements "You? Why, Hal, do you actually occurred at the very moment of depart- know how to run a tram-car? But you ure, when Mr. Cassidy and his limousine, were always so clever about everything!" which was to carry the distinguished “Oh, any child can run a car like that," guests to their train in a final burst he explained nonchalantly. “It 's that of elegance, failed to appear. Whether because of a more pressing need else- She gave a cry of pleasure. where, or because of the proximity of “What, you mean to say it 's autothe mint-bed to Mr. Cassidy's private matic, like that lift we saw in New York? supply, is not known to this history. Why have n't I known this earlier! The weather was very hot, however. Nick, what a lark! We're going to the

Mr. Allerby, on his tenth trip from train in an automatic tram-car.” telephone to window, tasted despair. Nor would she consent to remain The train was due in half an hour, and inconspicuously a passenger, but insisted




upon standing beside Mr. Allerby on remember,” called back a lovely voice the platform to see how it worked. from the departing train. Even that was not the worst; she soon She would always remember! demanded to be allowed to run the Mr. Allerby did not lack for company thing herself. And Sybil Allerby was on his homeward journey. Half the not the sort of woman whose pleadings town seemed moved to go about its go unheeded.

business by trolley that day, exchanging “You must let me try it, you really respectful pleasantries with the motormust, Hal, there 's a dear boy! I 've man. But people found him a trifle handled automobiles and motor-boats, unresponsive; not "airy," quite, but and young Hal almost let me drive his rather reserved, as became the accredited plane, and I 've steered elephants in scion of British nobility. Juggernaut India and camels in Biskra, and I went her ways softly, a consecrated could n't possibly go back from the trolley-car, and she has never since been States without having once driven an quite the rampageous, sporting vehicle automatic tram-car!"

she used to be. Perhaps Mr. Allerby “Better humor her in the interests of drives now with a ghost beside him, a peace," advised the indulgent husband. spirit out of another life, her veils

So that the Winfield populace was blowing fragrantly about him, her thrilled and aghast at the sight of the joyous laughter making him forget that third daughter of a belted earl at the romance can ever be fifty if a day, or wheel of their humble public convey- that there is anything ignoble in a task ance, her veils floating on the breeze, her white hands made a "lark” of. her musical laughter ringing gay and But when somebody asked him not clear above the cheerful clanging of the long ago when he 'd be running over to gong. And one old lady, at least, visit his English relatives, he shook his hearing of the madcap performance, head, murmuring words which only thought she knew why men still fell in Miss Sara would have understood: love with Sybil Allerby at fifty.

"It 's the jolliest lark we've ever "O rest ye, brother mariners, we will not had together, Hal dear! I 'll always wander more.”


At "the House of the Flirt” "

By PATRICK GALLAGHER An interesting and entertaining account of the history, past and contemporary, social and political, connected with President Wilson's official residence during the peace conference in Paris.

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T was an American diplo- misinformed, she had a very expensive
mat of the older generation taste in clothes.
who told me the story of It was in the selfsame little room
"the House of the Flirt." where Mamie tried on her dresses and

We had motored up the worried the originating soul of the elder Champs-Elysées, made a sharp detour M. Worth that Mr. Woodrow Wilson to the left, near Etoile, and slowed down tried to put together the broken fragas we entered the parked seclusion of ments of a world smashed to smithereens, the Place des Etats-Unis, with its sug- in a political, social, and economic sense, gestion of numerous nooks and angles by William Hohenzollern, who was a and-peace.

youngster with a very vicious temper “That is the President's house,” said when Mistress Paine smashed hearts in my friend, indicating a substantial, Paris. neutral-tinted villa on the opposite side The young American beauty, Mamie of the green sod. A gendarme and a Paine, after playing havoc with more French staff-officer saluted us politely. than her fair share of young hearts and Two young American gentlemen in old, accepted the trembling old hand khaki, spick and span, service rifles at and experienced affections of the retired the correct shoulder angle, guarded the banker and sous-maire Bischoffen. And approach to Mr. Wilson's Paris home. that was how Mamie came to live and Except our own quiet conversation, only to hold her captivating court in the the twittering of the little birds welcom- house at 11, Place des Etats-Unis. But ing the green shoots of May, making it was not thus called in that time. sounds into a silence that suggested the The United States' legation in Paris secrecy of the sacrosanct.

was a "two-pair back," tucked away on A good many years ago, when the a side street of little dignity and no imnice, grandfatherly old gentlemen of portance, until Mr. Levi P. Morton beto-day were gay young blades, with

our minister to France. Mr. warm response for a sparkling eye and a Morton leased a fine graystone mansion Malibran shoulder, the dashing, daring just a block on the north side of the Mamie Paine was the talk and the toast house of Mamie's obedient husband, of Paris. That is merely another way and then the Parisians discovered of saying how Mamie was where every America. The frugal Frenchmen who woman since Lilith or Mother Eve has were in the winner circle” of the Governloved and longed to be on the topmost ment at Paris, and participants in the limb of the tree of masculine adulation. profits accruing from foresight in metroShe was the adored of young men politan real-estate investments, interand old. She was, they tell me, these preted the Morton lease as a soothing gallants of dead decades, as pretty as a shadow of an agreeable coming event: at picture by David, and fully as tantaliz- last those dollar-decked Americans were ing as the lady who was looked upon by going to act like real Europeans and buy another and still earlier David, in circum- an embassy building. To help the good stances quite disapproved by the Non- work along, they called the peaceful, conformist conscience and Mrs. Grundy. parked prospect the Place des EtatsMamie was très chic, and, unless I am Unis. It is not without significance


that Congress failed fully to appreciate the compliment. To this day we do not own an embassy building in Paris. Our ambassadors are “renters,” in the French diplomatic circle, "unhindered and unhampered” by any act of congressional munificence.

It was by the merest accident, I am told, that the President came to live in "the House of the Flirt.” When he made his first appearance in Paris, he went to the Hôtel Murat. The Hôtel Murat was not available when he planned his second trip, so “the House of the Flirt" was hired to witness the work of making a new world out of a badly battered, gasping, ghastly globe. It may have been as significant as it was accidental.

The President went to Paris to make peace, and the Place des Etats-Unis is a peaceful spot. He returned to France “unhindered and unhampered” by earlier aspirations for "open covenants of peace, openly arrived at." Secrecy set its guards on every quiet bit of the small, wooded circle. Even the cute little sparrows, a family of birds as notorious for impertinence and irreverence as regularly trained American reporters, seemed to

the all-pervading presence of the very spirit of secrecy. The young leaves on the nodding trees whispered their warning, "Hush!" All the gables were decently dignified and as perfectly proper-looking as if Mamie had never blown a coquettish kiss in their direction. Mamie was dead. The carved fireplace in the little room -that elegant fireplace was to hear and see many things that are destined to remain buried in a secrecy far more impenetrable than some of Mamie's most sacred secrets. What happened in that room was to go far to prove that modern diplomacy is still as close-mouthed as


What happened within the four walls that saw much of Mamie was to teach us all that flirtation is not confined to women.

It was in that room of “the House of the Flirt” that Woodrow Wilson is now charged with having played with the hearts of one out of every four of the inhabitants of the earth, crumpled up his “Fourteen Points,” and cast them into the waste-paper-basket.

They were three. Newspapers and the people of a large part of the world spoke of “the Big Four." There might have been more. Still, the fact remains that they were three, Woodrow Wilson, Georges Clemenceau, and David Lloyd George. I have named them in the order of merit and actual importance.

His foes and critics notwithstanding, Woodrow Wilson was by far the ablest among the participants in the Conference of Paris. He towered over them all. As an idealist, he was the soul of the conference. From the purely intellectual point of view, he could hold his own with the best of them, and there were one or two intellectual giants in other delegations: Bourgeois for the French, Balfour for the British, but only one other at the top of his own "pile," Venizelos, the great Greek.

The use of the term “Conference of Paris” suggests correction of a popular error that ought to be excised from the columns of our newspapers and the public mind. The peace conference was the Conference of Paris. It was a conference confined to the Allied and Associated victor nations. The ritual reserved for the defeated Germans billeted in the Trianon Palace Hôtel at Versailles was that of a drumhead court martial, as was fit and proper. Nothing less would have satisfied Foch and the French. Fittingly and properly, the Conference of Paris respected the feeling of the outraged nation in whose capital the map of the new world was being charted. The Austrian affair at St. Germain-en-Laye was an inquest, sometimes solemn, sometimes comic, sometimes almost joyful. I cannot testify as to the other side-shows, be cause they did not begin until I left Paris. Relations with the Germans were restricted to exchange of notes between the German delegation in Versailles and the Allies and Associates in Paris. I really think that M. Clemenceau enjoyed his task, as president of the conference, of replying to Brockdorf-Rantzau and the tall, sallow count's successors. Usually, in each sharp sentence, you could feel the bite of "the Tiger's" teeth.

Georges Clemenceau is a droll figure of a man, and a little giant in his own


the grave


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way. Standing alongside Mr. Wilson, George was sitting back in his chair, in a Clemenceau instantly suggested “Little brown study; Mr. Wilson was leaning Jeff" to the President's “Mutt.” I forward listening patiently. M. Clemennever saw him without the inseparable ceau, leaning back, was listening impagray suède gloves. He wore them al- tiently. ways when presiding over the plenary "See," exclaimed the Italian premier, sessions. He would sit for long spells waving his arms and shivering his silvery with clasped hands and his head cocked crop, “the press of France is unanimously over a humped shoulder, with ear in our favor. Every newspaper echoes trained upon the speaker of the moment. our desire -'Italy should have Italian Then, perhaps, he would wrinkle his Fiume!'' large forehead, shake his head up and Clemenceau tapped Orlando on the down, turn it around and glare at the arm, cupped his gloved left over his gentleman who was taking up the time lips, and roared into the left ear of the that stood between France and peace. impassioned Roman, in a stage whisper: France wanted peace in a hurry and Would you like me to tell the Presiwith a fanfare. Clemenceau, as the dent how much it cost?” political incarnation of France, wanted Never another word said Orlando. peace at a pen-stroke. I think we all He swore under his breath as he took liked his loyalty to his own people. his defeated departure. That was the real secret of his hold upon Allied affections in Paris. He was so I HAD not seen David Lloyd George for frank in his zeal for France! He tore almost twenty years when I shook hands everything else out of his path, just like with him in Paris. I found him much a big cat springing to save her young changed, and apparently for the better. ones.

Time has mellowed the once incoherent Clemenceau is a great French editor. Welshman. The Lloyd George who Now, it must be confessed that the supported Mr. Wilson's fine oration for French press has still far to go before it a league of peace in the Hall of the Clock can take its place with the British and was a much finer figure than the obscure American press as a dependable, honest Welsh member who mobilized the force in the formation of democratic “Nonconformist conscience,” under the public opinion. The majority of the Liberal leadership of the jocular Sir Paris newspapers are sadly corrupt and Henry Campbell-Bannerman. His perilax in their methods of gathering and ods were more rounded, his rhetoric less presenting news. Georges Clemenceau flamboyant. Also, he was much better is a working journalist, with a high sense barbered and groomed. Some premiers of the mission of the newspaper. Ap- feel it desirable to keep up appearances. parently, he has strong opinions about Lloyd George has indisputable claims some of the tendencies of French re- upon American good-will. He is a selfporters. Certainly, he disfavored any

made man.

He began as a small town attempt to open up the real proceedings attorney and Little Bethel lay preacher. of the conference to the reporters present He felt his way carefully over the from all parts of the world.

shoulders of his Welsh miners, uttered “Where shall we put the photograph- orthodox Nonconformist views until, ers?" an Allied intermediary asked, when “with the Nonconformist conscience in press arrangements were being consid- the hollow of his fiercely clenched hand,” ered.

he climbed upon the treasury bench, "Put them in the donjon,” snapped which is to say, the Government of the “the Tiger.”

British Empire. Just before the dramatic Italian In height and general appearance “walk-out,” Mr. Orlando was pleading Lloyd George suggests a compromise Italy's claims to Fiume before his col- between his American and French assoleagues of the Council of Four, at "the ciates in the management of the conferHouse of the Flirt."

ence. Usually, there is a subtle message He was addressing his remarks par- in the twinkling eye and the ingratiating ticularly to Mr. Wilson. Mr. Lloyd smile that greet the reporter or news

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