I'll bet that by the time I get married to
Strathie there'll be nothing left but republics, and no titles at
tall. His people came over with Henry the Conqueror and his title
will last just long enough for me to reach for it, and then--woof!
Wouldn't it be just my luck to become plain Mrs. Strathdene after
all I've had to go through! Honestly, m'mah, don't I just have the
dog-on'dest luck!"
"It's perfectly awful," said Mrs. Thropp, "but bad luck can't go
on forever."
On April 2d the future Mrs. Strathdene was cheered by an
extraordinary spectacle--newspapers in the Metropolitan Opera
House! Kedzie was there with her waning Marquess. The occasion
was rare enough in itself, for an American opera was being heard:
"The Canterbury Pilgrims," with Mr. Reginald De Koven's music to
Mr. Percy Mackaye's text.
Suddenly, in the _entr'acte_ the unheard-of thing--the
newspapers--appeared in the boxes and about the house! People
spread evening extras on the rails and read excitedly that President
Wilson had gone to Congress and asked it to declare that a state of
war existed and had existed.
The Italian manager directed the Polish conductor to play "The
Star-Spangled Banner" and the three thousand men and women of the
audience made a chorus on the obverse side of the curtain.
Mr. Gerard, lately returned from Germany, called for "Three cheers
for President Wilson," and there were loud huzzahs for him and for
the Allies.
"You and I are allies now," Kedzie murmured to the Marquess.
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