“You are going to be a little Saint Elizabeth, doing something for the unlucky ones all the time; I see that!” whispered Natalie. “What a right all right you are, Beth Bristead!” cried Dirk, forgetting his audience and speaking aloud. “She surely is!” cried a red-faced old gentleman standing by. “And I’m glad to learn her lovable little name.” Beth was thankful when the messenger returned announcing that the taxicab, which he had fetched, was waiting at the head of the next path leading out from the bridle path to the drive. “May I go with Dirk to see her off, Tim?” asked Beth. “Sure; I’ll wait ye here,” replied Tim, already with Trump’s reins in his left hand. Beth and Dirk led the trembling little Italian-American to the cab, escorted by a considerable proportion of the crowd. As they put her in Dirk asked her name and address. “Annunciata Carmaldo,” the child told them, and that her home was quite across the city, in Second Avenue. She seemed to find the cab a species of smelling salts, for she revived from her fainting condition and began to sit up erect, even to assume small airs of importance, the moment she took her place within it. She bridled behind the doors which shut her in, her dark eyes peering over them, like a small seal in a tank. “Maybe we shall see you again some day,” said Beth, bidding her good-bye. And, to her great embarrassment, the child leaned out and kissed Beth’s hands, raising them to her brow with fervor of adoration, while tears ran down her thin, pretty face, telling Beth of the gratitude for which the small Italian lacked all English words. “Now that,” said Beth emphatically to Dirk as the cab rolled away and she and her cousin started back to their mounts, “that is what I call an adventure!” “Were you really going to put that little Italiano on your pony and walk home, Beth?” asked Dirk, eyeing the little girl as if she were an entirely new specimen. “Yes, of course; why not?” said Beth. Dirk looked at her again, slapped his leg and laughed. “Well, if I ever!” he cried, not explaining to Beth’s eager questioning what he meant. That night Beth sat in her aunt’s room watching her made ready for the opera. It was an unfailing delight to Beth to see her beautiful aunt robed in her evening splendors, to watch the wonderful costumes adjusted and the flashing jewels placed in her dusky hair and on her white throat, scintillating among the laces on her breast.