e" was a success. Mrs. Schoville ecstasized over it in
terms so immeasurable, so unqualifiable, that Jacob Welse, standing
near, bent a glittering gaze upon her plump white throat and
unconsciously clutched and closed his hand on an invisible windpipe.
Dave Harney proclaimed its excellence effusively, though he questioned
the soundness of Nora's philosophy and swore by his Puritan gods that
Torvald was the longest-eared Jack in two hemispheres. Even Miss
Mortimer, antagonistic as she was to the whole school, conceded that
the players had redeemed it; while Matt McCarthy announced that he
didn't blame Nora darlin' the least bit, though he told the Gold
Commissioner privately that a song or so and a skirt dance wouldn't
have hurt the performance.

"Iv course the Nora girl was right," he insisted to Harney, both of
whom were walking on the heels of Frona and St. Vincent. "I'd be
seein'--"

"Rubber--"

"Rubber yer gran'mother!" Matt wrathfully exclaimed.

"Ez I was sayin'," Harney continued, imperturbably, "rubber boots is
goin' to go sky-high 'bout the time of wash-up. Three ounces the pair,
an' you kin put your chips on that for a high card. You kin gather 'em
in now for an ounce a pair and clear two on the deal. A cinch, Matt, a
dead open an' shut."

"The devil take you an' yer cinches! It's Nora darlin' I have in me
mind the while."

They bade good-by to Frona and St. Vincent and went off disputing under
the stars in the direction of the Opera House.

Gregory St. Vincent heaved an audible sigh. "At last."

"At last what?" Frona asked, incuriously.

"At last the first opportunity for me to tell you how well you did.
You carried off the final scene wonderfully; so well that it seemed you
were really passing out of my life forever."

"What a misfortune!"

"It was terrible."

"No."

"But, yes. I took the whole condition upon myself. You were not Nora,
you were Frona; nor I Torvald, but Gregory. When you made your exit,
capped and jacketed and travelling-bag in hand, it seemed I could not
possibly stay and finish my lines. And when the door slammed and you
were gone, the only thing that saved me was the curtain. It brought me
to myself, or else I would have rushed after you in the face of the
audience."

"It is strange how a simulated part may react upon one," Frona
speculated.

"Or rather?" St. Vincent suggested.

Frona made no answer, and they walked on without speech. She was still
u