that the great
Ricardo had succumbed to his own intensity of emotions after the third
act of _Carmen_, and had been unable to go on, giving way to the
scarcely less great Signor Dulceo. That same morning Bobby was
confronted by the first of a long series of similar dilemmas. The
Signorina Caravaggio must leave the company or Signor Ricardo would do
so. No stage was big enough to hold the two; moreover, Ricardo meant
to have the heart's blood of Signor Biffo de Bates-s-s-s!

With a sigh, Bobby, out of his ignorance and independence, took the
only possible course to preserve peace, and emphatically told Signor
Ricardo to pack up and go as quickly as possible, which he went away
vowing to do. Naturally the great tenor thought better of it after
that, and though he had already been dropped from the cast of _Il
Trovatore_ on Saturday afternoon, he reported just the same. And he
went on with the company.

It was not until they went upon the road, however, that Bobby fully
realized what a lot of irresponsible, fretful, peevish children he had
upon his hands. With the exception of serene Nora McGinnis, every one
of the principals was at daggers drawn with all the others, sulking
over the least advantage obtained by any one else, and accepting
advantage of their own as only a partial payment of their supreme
rank. The one most at war with her own world was Madam Villenauve,
whose especial _bete noire_ was the MeeGeenees, whom, by no
possibility, could she ever under any circumstance be induced to call
Caravaggio.

On the second day of their next engagement, as Bobby strode through
the corridor of the hotel, shortly after luncheon, he was stopped by
Madam Villenauve, who had been waiting for him in the door of her
room. She was herself apparently just dressing to go out, for her
coiffure was made and she had on a short underskirt, a kimono-like
dressing-jacket and her street shoes.

"I wish to speak wiz you on some beezness, Meester Burnit," she told
him abruptly, and with an imperatively beckoning hand stepped back
with a bow for him to enter.

With just a moment of surprised hesitation he stepped into the room,
whereupon the Villenauve promptly closed the door. A week before Bobby
would have been a trifle astonished by this proceeding, but in that
week he had seen so many examples of unconscious unconventionalities
in and about the dressing-rooms and at the hotel, that he had
readjusted his point of view to meet the pecu