"We can't."

"Whoy not?"

"This is a very exclusive affair."

"An' we're very ixclusive paple."

"Only those having invitations can enter the ballroom."

"Is thot so? Thin it's outsoide we're lift. What can we do about thot?"

"Nothing."

"Is it too late to git invoitations?"

"They can't be bought, like tickets."

"Well, what koind av a shindig do ye call this, Oi dunno?"

Barney was thoroughly disgusted.

Frank explained that Professor Scotch had been able to procure invitations, but neither of them had fancied they would care to attend the ball, so the opportunity had been neglected.

"Whinever Oi can get something fer nothing, Oi take it," said Barney.

"It's a use Oi can make fer most things Oi get."

The two boys lingered outside the building. Frank hoped the Flower Queen would come out, and he would be able to speak to her before she entered a carriage and was carried away.

Sweet strains of music floated down to the ears of the restless lads, and, with each pa.s.sing moment, Frank grew more and more disgusted with himself.

"To think that I might be in there--might be waltzing with the Queen of Flowers at this moment, if I had asked the professor to obtain the invitations!" he cried.

"It's harrud luck!" said Barney; "but ye'll know betther next toime."

"Next time will be too late. In some way, I must meet this girl and speak to her. I must, and I will!"

"That's th' shtuff, me b'y! Whiniver ye say anything loike thot, ye always git there wid both fate. Oi'll risk yez."

Two men in dress suits came out to smoke and get a breath of air. They stood conversing within a short distance of the boys.

"She has been the sensation of the day," said one. "The whole city is wondering who she is."

"She seems determined to remain a mystery."

"Yes, for she has vanished from the ballroom in a most unaccountable manner. No one saw her take her departure."

"Not even Rolf Raymond."

"No. He is as much mystified as anybody. The fellow knows her, but he positively refuses to disclose her ident.i.ty."

Frank's hand had fallen on Barney's arm with a grip of iron, and the fingers were sinking deeper and deeper into the Irish lad's flesh as these words fell on their ears.

"It is said that the young fellow who saved her from the steer to-day does not know her."

"No. She saw him in the crowd to-night, and flung him her crown, calling him a hero. He was nearly mobbed by the crowd, that was determined to know his name, but he escaped in some way, and has not been seen since."

"That settles it!" Frank hissed in Barney's ear. "They are speaking of the Flower Queen."

"Sure," returned the Irish lad; "an' av yersilf, Frankie, b'y."

"She is no longer in the ballroom."

"No."

"We are wasting our time waiting here."

"Roight ye are."

"Then we will wait no longer. Come, we'll go to the hotel."

CHAPTER XIX.

A HUMBLE APOLOGY.

Barely were they in their apartments at the hotel when there came a knock on the door, and a boy entered, bearing a salver on which were two cards.

"Colonel La Salle Vallier and Mr. Rolf Raymond," read Frank. "Bring them up."

"What's that?" roared Professor Scotch, from the bed. "Are you crazy?"

Frank hustled the boy out of the room, whispering:

"Bring them up, and admit them without knocking."

He slipped a quarter into the boy's hand, and the little fellow grinned and hurried away.

Frank turned back to find Professor Scotch, in his night robe, standing square in the middle of the bed, wildly waving his arms, and roaring:

"Lock the door--barricade it--keep them out! If those desperadoes are admitted here, this room will run red with gore!"

"That's right, professor," agreed Frank. "We'll settle their hash right here and at once. We'll cook 'em."

"Whoop!" shouted the little professor, in his big, hoa.r.s.e voice. "This is murder--a.s.sa.s.sination! Lock the door, I say! I am in no condition to receive visitors."