rayed that belief to her. Her face hardened, her eyes leisurely
scorched up and down my poor linen gown, then she turned frowningly to
the glass, patted her bustle into shape, and flounced out again. I felt
as though I had received a blow. Then voices, loudly laughing male
voices, approached, and three men came in, holding their hats and mopping
their faces. They "bah-Joved" a good deal, and one, big and noisy, with a
young face topped with perfect baldness, bowed to me courteously, the
others did not see me.

Where, I thought, was the manager all this time? Then more laughter, and
back came my flouncy young woman and two of her kind with her; pretty,
finely dressed, badly bred women, followed by one whom I knew instantly.
One I had heard much of, one to whom I had a letter of introduction--I
have it still, by the way. She was gray even then, plain of feature, but
sweet of voice and very gentle of manner. I lifted my head higher. Of
course she would not know me from sole-leather, but she would see I was a
stranger and forlornly alone, and besides, being already secure in her
position in the company--she was its oldest member--and therefore, in a
certain measure, a hostess, and as my mere presence in the green-room
showed I was a professional of some sort or quality, both authority and
kindness would prompt her to a bow, a smile, perhaps a pleasant word. I
looked hungrily at her, her bright, small eyes met mine, swept swiftly
over me, and then she slowly turned her black silk back upon me, the
stranger in her gate; and as I swallowed hard at the lump Mrs. Gilbert's
gentle indifference had brought to my throat, my old sense of fun came
uppermost, and I said to myself: "No morning is lost in which one learns
something, and I have discovered that covering a club neatly in velvet
improves its appearance, without in the least detracting from the force
of its blow."

And then the passage resounded with laughter and heel-taps, the small
room filled full; there was a surging of silken gowns, a mingling of
perfumes and of voices, high and excited, and, I must add, affected; much
handshaking, many explosive kisses, and then, down the other passageway,
came more gentlemen. They were a goodly crowd--well groomed, well
dressed, manly fellows, and all in high good-humor, except Mr. Davidge,
but, in mercy's name! who ever saw, who would have wished to see "rare
old Bill" in a good humor?

Such gay greetings as were exchanged around a