aring her name had some little weight with
him. He gave her a silent part at thirty dollars a week.

"Didn't I tell you?" said Lola. "It doesn't do you any good to go away
from New York. They forget all about you if you do."

Now, because Carrie was pretty, the gentlemen who made up the advance
illustrations of shows about to appear for the Sunday papers selected
Carrie's photo along with others to illustrate the announcement. Because
she was very pretty, they gave it excellent space and drew scrolls about
it. Carrie was delighted. Still, the management did not seem to have
seen anything of it. At least, no more attention was paid to her than
before. At the same time there seemed very little in her part. It
consisted of standing around in all sorts of scenes, a silent little
Quakeress. The author of the skit had fancied that a great deal could be
made of such a part, given to the right actress, but now, since it had
been doled out to Carrie, he would as leave have had it cut out.

"Don't kick, old man," remarked the manager. "If it don't go the first
week we will cut it out."

Carrie had no warning of this halcyon intention. She practised her
part ruefully, feeling that she was effectually shelved. At the dress
rehearsal she was disconsolate.

"That isn't so bad," said the author, the manager noting the curious
effect which Carrie's blues had upon the part. "Tell her to frown a
little more when Sparks dances."

Carrie did not know it, but there was the least show of wrinkles between
her eyes and her mouth was puckered quaintly.

"Frown a little more, Miss Madenda," said the stage manager.

Carrie instantly brightened up, thinking he had meant it as a rebuke.

"No; frown," he said. "Frown as you did before."

Carrie looked at him in astonishment.

"I mean it," he said. "Frown hard when Mr. Sparks dances. I want to see
how it looks."

It was easy enough to do. Carrie scowled. The effect was something so
quaint and droll it caught even the manager.

"That is good," he said. "If she'll do that all through, I think it will
take."

Going over to Carrie, he said:

"Suppose you try frowning all through. Do it hard. Look mad. It'll make
the part really funny."

On the opening night it looked to Carrie as if there were nothing to her
part, after all. The happy, sweltering audience did not seem to see her
in the first act. She frowned and frowned, but to no effect. Eyes were
riveted upon the more elaborate effo