le I was huskily answering him, a big woman appeared at the door. Her
garments were aggressively rich, and lockets (it was a great year for
lockets) dangled from both wrists, from her watch-chain, and from her
neck-chain. She glittered with diamonds--in a street-dress which might
also have answered for a dinner-dress. I laughed to myself as I thought
what a prize she would be for pirates. Then I looked at her handsome face
and, as our eyes met, we recognized each other perfectly, but my lesson
being learned I made no sign, I had no wish to presume, and she--looked
over my head.

M. Benot, the Frenchman who died in harness early in the season, poor
little gentleman! came in then with the MSS. and the parts of the play,
"Man and Wife." Silence came upon the company. As M. Benot called Mr. or
Miss So-and-so, he or she advanced and received the part assigned to
them. "Miss Clara Morris!" I rose stiffly--I had sat so long in my
corner--and received rather a bulky part. I bowed silently and resumed my
seat, but the place was for a moment only a black, windy void; I had seen
the name on my part--I was cast for _Blanche_, a comedy part!

As I came back to my real surroundings, M. Benot was saying: "Eleven
o'clock sharp to-morrow, ladies and gentlemen, for rehearsal."

People began hurrying out. I waited a little, till nearly all were gone,
whispering "Miss Ethel for _Anne_, Miss Ethel for _Anne_" when the
handsome "Argosy of wealth" sailed up to me, and, in a voice of sweet
uncertainty, said: "I wonder if you can possibly recognize me?"

"Oh, yes," I answered, smiling broadly, "we recognized each other at the
moment you entered, Miss Newton."

She reddened and stammered something about "not being quite sure--and out
West, and now here," and as she was even prettier than when I had last
seen her, I told her so, and--we were happy ever after.

Then I slipped out of the theatre and crossed to Twenty-first Street
safely, but could control my grief and pain, my mortification and my
disappointment, no longer. Tears would have their way, and I held my
sunshade low before my tear-washed, grieving face. Those little
ill-suppressed smiles at my clothes, those slightly lifted eyebrows, and
there was not even a single introduction to shelter me to-morrow, and as
to _Blanche_, oh, I thought "let her wait till I get home!"

At last mother opened the door for me. I flung the hat from my aching
head, and as she silently tied a wet handke