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FEW mornings after de Bosky's premier as director of the Royal Hungarian Orchestra, Mrs. Sparflight called Jane Emsdale's attention to a news "story" in the Times, The headline was as follows:

Three-quarters of a column were devoted to the first appearance in America of the royal musician; his remarkable talent; his glorious ancestry; his singular independence; and (through an interpreter) his impressions of New York.

"Oh, I am so glad," cried Jane, after she had read the story. "The poor fellow was so dreadfully up against it."

"We must go and hear him soon," said the other.

They were at the breakfast-table. Jane had been with the elder woman for nearly a week. She was happy, radiant, contented. Not so much as an inkling of the truth arose to disturb her serenity. She believed herself to be actually in the pay of "Deborah." From morning till night she went cheerfully about the tasks set for her by her sorely tried employer, who, as time went on, found herself hard put to invent duties for a