“Are you asking me to take her back?” Potter cried fiercely. “Do you think I'll break one of my iron--” “We couldn't all have married her!” said the playwright with a fine inspiration. “But if you take her back we can all see her--every day!” The actor gazed upon him sternly, but with sensitive lips beginning to quiver. He spoke uncertainly. “Well,” he began. “I'm no stubborn Frenchman--” “Do it!” cried Canby. Then Potter's expression changed; he looked queer. He clapped his hands loudly;--Sato appeared. “Sato, take that stuff out.” He pointed to the untouched whiskey. “Order supper at ten o'clock--for five people. Champagne. Orchids. Get me a taxicab in half an hour.” “Yisso!” Tinker rose, astounded. “Taxicab? Where you--” “To Brooklyn!” shouted Potter with shining eyes. “She'll drive with me if I bring them both, I guess, won't she?” He began to sing: “For to-night we'll merry, merry be! For to-night we'll merry, merry be--” Leaping uproariously upon the aged Tinker, he caught him by the waist and waltzed him round and round the room. THE END End of Project Gutenberg's Harlequin and Columbine, by Booth Tarkington