he _Atlantic
Monthly_, under the impression that the play was going nicely, when the
terrible outbreak of Cartel occurred. One thing she grasped, and that
was that the girl was suffering, so she let her alone and trudged along
beside her, as well as she could.

Suddenly Isabelle called a taxi, and ordered the driver to hurry them
home.

"I won't see the Wallys to-night," she said, as they reached the house.
"If they're home, you tell them whatever you like."

But the Bryces were not in yet, so Matthews told them. Isabelle rushed
upstairs, and went to bed, with a brief good-night to Miss Watts. An
hour later Max snapped on the light in Isabelle's room, and evidently
spoke to Wally.

"The little beast is asleep!" she said. "Did you ever hear anything
equal to that?"

Isabelle heard him laugh; the light was turned off, and her parents
went on their way. They never had any part in her crises. They thought
this terrible, wracking fiasco was funny! She covered her ears to shut
out the hideous wild laughing of that audience. She could never forget
it as long as she lived--that gust of laughter, as if the solid earth
had begun to rock and roll.

She tried to think back to the beginning of the disaster, but it was all
hazy in her mind--a chaos of lights, people, applause, excitement--a
mixture of the role she was playing and the one she had made up for
herself. She could not remember when it was that she began on the wrong
Mary.

She viewed the ruins of her hopes, lying all about her. She heard Cartel's
shrieks of rage, and that awful laughing! It was terrible--terrible! And
nobody would understand. There was nothing for her to do, but die.

She thought back to another time when she had wanted to die, and dear
Mrs. Benjamin had comforted her. If only she were here now she would
understand, and help her to face her disgrace. What was she to do? How
could she live it down? She must hide somewhere. Maybe she ought to
disappear in the morning, before her parents were awake. That would let
her out of the much-dreaded interview with them. So with this idea in
her mind, she fell into troubled sleep, at dawn.

When she woke, it was to broad daylight, and the presence of her father
and mother.

"Oh!" sighed Isabelle, as her eyes fell on them.

"You've been asleep all day," said her mother. "We thought maybe you'd
taken something."

"Taken something?"

"Drug, or something."

"Is it late?"

"Four o'clock in the aftern