one," which goes to prove what a very ignorant young person I was
then. In looking back to that time, I often drop into the habit of
considering myself as another person, and sometimes I am sorry for the
girl of that day, and say: "You poor thing, if you had only known!" or
again, "What wasted trust--what needless sorrow, too!" But I was then
like the romping, trusting, all-loving puppy-dog who believes every
living being his friend, until a kick or a blow convinces him to the
contrary.

I had two dresses, neither one really fit for the occasion, but I put on
the best one, braided my mass of hair into the then proper _chatelaine_
braids, and found comfort in them, and encouragement in a fresh,
well-fitting pair of gloves. At half-past ten o'clock I entered the
underground green-room. Two young men were there before me. I slightly
bent my head, and one responded doubtfully, but the other, with the
blindness of stone in his eyes, bowed not at all. I sat down in a
corner--the stranger always seeks a corner; can that be an instinct, a
survival from the time when a tribe fell upon the stranger, and with the
aid of clubs informed him of their strength and power? Anyway, as I said,
I sat in a corner. There was the carpet, the great mirror, the cushioned
bench running clear around the room, and that was all--oh, no! on the
wall, of course, there hung that shallow, glass-covered frame or cabinet
called, variously, "the call-board," the "call-case," or even the
"call-box." It is the official voice of the manager--when the "call-case"
commands, all obey. There, in writing, one finds the orders for next
day's rehearsal; there one finds the cast of characters in the plays;
there, too, the requests for the company's aid, on such a day, for such a
charity benefit appears. Ah, a great institution is the "call-case,"
being the manager's voice, but not his ears, which is both a comfort and
an advantage at times to all concerned.

That day I glanced at it; it was empty. The first call and cast of the
season would be put up presently. I wondered how many disappointments it
would hold for me. Then there was a rustle of skirts, a tapping of heels,
a young woman gayly dressed rushed in, a smile all ready for--oh! she
nodded briefly to the young men, then she saw me--she looked full at me.
The puppy-dog trust arose in me, I was a stranger, she was going to bow,
perhaps smile! Oh, how thankful I am that I was stopped in time, before I
had bet