lar for them to
do. All the afternoon the "mob" people and the other "sups" besieged the
stage door of the theatre waiting their turns to be made up, and then,
donning heavy veils hurried back up the hill. It was tiresome being made
up so early and having to stay indoors all the hot afternoon, but it
couldn't be helped, for there was only one make-up man and he must save
plenty of time for the principal actors.

So the campus dinner-tables were patronized by young persons with
heavily penciled eyebrows and brightly rouged cheeks, who ate cautiously
to avoid smearing their paint and powder, and than ran up-stairs to jeer
at the masculine contingent whose beards and moustaches had condemned
them to privacy and scanty fare.

"I shall die of starvation," wailed Bob Parker, when she reached the
theatre, confiding her sad story to Betty. "I said I didn't mind being a
Jew and having my toes stepped on when the Christians hustle me out of
court. But how can any one eat dinner with a thing like this," and she
held up her flowing beard disdainfully.

"I'm sure I don't know," said Betty absently, consulting a messy
memorandum as if she expected to find directions for eating with a beard
among its items. "Bob, where is Roberta Lewis? The make-up man wants her
this minute. It takes ages to fix on her nose."

"Portia is afraid she is going to be hoarse," announced another "supe"
importantly.

"Then find the doctor," commanded Barbara Gordon swiftly, as Betty
disappeared in search of Roberta. "Be careful, men. Look out for that
gondola when you move the flies. Rachel, please keep the maskers off the
stage."

"Why don't we begin?"

"Did you ever see such a mess?"

"Oh, it's going to be a horrible fizzle. I told you the scenery was too
elaborate."

But two minutes later the "street in Venice" scene was ready and
Antonio and "the Sals," as the class irreverently styled his friends,
were chatting composedly together in front of it.

The house was packed of course and there was almost as much excitement
in front as there was behind the scenes. Of course the under class girls
and alumnae were delighted, but there was a distinguished critic from New
York in the fifth row, and when Shylock appeared he was as enthusiastic
as Mary Brooks herself. Even the cynical Richard Blake was pleased. He
had come up to see the play and also, so he explained, to be a family
to the bereft Madeline; but as Madeline was behind the scenes Eleanor