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 been Royalty itself. And in the opinion of her escort, a very nice-looking, well-grown and well-groomed young man in white spats and a blue suiting, the last word in neatness, and a bowler hat, of course the last word of fashion, she was indeed the Queen of Blackhampton. Moreover, a large percentage of the passers-by concurred with the nice-looking young man in so thinking.

Yes, she was the acknowledged Queen of Blackhampton; in the eyes of the passers-by the fact was stated. It was perfectly true that she had got this constituency in her pocket; and Blackhampton, although hardly aware of the fact, was mightily proud to be there.

They came in their thousands to welcome her back to that sphere of life she ought never to have deserted. Their reception almost brought tears to her eyes, it was so spontaneous, so hearty, and so genuine. The Royal Italian Opera House could have been filled ten times over; not, of course, that this was due to Mary alone. Other stars were giving their services; and Harry Merino, upon whom evil times had fallen, was as good a comedian as ever colored his nose and delighted the world with irresistible natural humor.

It was at the Royal at Blackhampton that she had really begun her great career. Blackhampton had been the making of her, said Mr. Byles, the famous Lessee and Manager of the Royal, and that great man was accustomed to deal with hard facts. Blackhampton