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"I'm fond of my wethers ers ers," says Monsieur Caterna, in any number of baritones. It is the everlasting duet between Pipo and Bettina; and they are rehearsing for Shanghai. Happy Shanghai! They do not yet know the Mascotte! Ephrinell and Miss Bluett are talking away with unusual animation, and I catch the end of the dialogue. "I am afraid," said she, "that hair will be rising in Pekin "
Then from across the years a mocking voice rang out shrill and cold and cruel: "Now don't you go mussing up my apartment, Pipo!" He drew back his hand with a jerk, and clutched the chair; and sat bolt upright, while every nerve rang with the alarm. Minutes passed.
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