In a larger city, such a place would have had a temporary vogue, and then, after having been "discovered" by reporters and artists, have sunk into the desuetude of impecunious rural diners-out, one of the places of which one says: "Oh, you should have seen it two years ago." But San Francisco is of that fascinating size, half-way between town and city, and of that interesting age where the old is not quite forgotten and the new not quite permanently instated,—it is, above all, so delightfully isolated that it need not ape the East. Though it has outgrown some of its Western crudities, it is significant that such a restaurant as Fulda’s could become and remain a resort for the gathering of the cleverest spirits in town. It had already achieved that reputation; it was patronized by the arts. The visitors, for the most part, either did things or wanted to. One was apt to know almost everybody there. If one didn’t know Mr. Smith, one’s friend did; or one knew Mr. Smith’s friend. To this place entered Fancy Gray, drifter, the day after the materializing séance, in a new, blue mackintosh and a pert but appropriate hat. She nodded, to Felix, at the counter, and, following underneath the trail of footprints on the ceiling, came, jovially as ever, to the central table. Dougal, Elsie and Benton were sitting at the far end of it. Dougal sprang up with a grin. "Come and sit down quickly and tell us all about it!" he exclaimed. "What happened after we left?" She sat on the side of a chair without removing her coat, and gave them her ever-ready smile. "Say, you didn’t raise a rough house or anything, did you? I thought it would be a case for the coroner before you got through. If I’d known you were going to be there I wouldn’t have been in the cast. Wasn’t it awful? Madam Spoll was pretty badly burned, I hear." "I hope I’ll never have to see anything as horrible as that again," said Benton. "But I did what I could. I hope she’ll recover." "We waited till the police and the ambulance came and then we got out," Dougal added. "There was nothing more to do but testify. Did you see the account of it in the paper? I believe they’re going to have more about it, and play it up for all it’s worth. What became of you, Fancy? Last I saw of you you had skipped into that back room." "Oh, as soon as I had put on my shoes, I got out as quick as I could by the back way. I didn’t know whether the house was going to be pulled or not. I’d had trouble enough for one evening. I’m all black and blue now, from Dougal’s holding me." "How did Vixley feel, I wonder? He must have been pretty sore." "Sore! I guess he was, in more ways than one. But Flora Flint was the funniest! They found her in the cabinet, half dressed, after all the crowd was cleared out—she had been afraid to move." "How did you happen to be there, anyway, Fancy?" Elsie asked. "I thought you hadn’t done anything with that medium crowd for years."