Eye
by her side, to keep her in countenance, open her bag, give her her
handkerchief ... liked to be a little lady who can't do without her maid
... but, damn it, where was Glass-Eye? And Lily clenched her fist when she
saw her return with cakes in her hands, escorted by Tom, who helped to
carry the champagne.

"Where have you been, Glass-Eye?" asked Lily severely. "What have you been
doing with Tom? Give me my handkerchief, Glass-Eye."

"Here's your bag, Miss Lily," said Glass-Eye excitedly. "I'm going to
leave you, Miss Lily."

"What for?" said Lily, feeling vexed. "Because I owe you a few little
things?"

"Oh, no, not that! I'm going to be a star, too; on my hands: Demon Maud,
the lady with the flaming eye; a candle in my glass eye ... before two
witnesses ... I made my mark at the bottom."

"She's drunk!" cried Lily, utterly dumfounded. "Or else she's going mad.
Jimmy! Tom! Glass-Eye's going mad!"

But, when Tom had explained, Lily approved. Glass-Eye wasn't stupid,
really; very intelligent, though you'd never think it. Glad to see her
engaged.... And she shook her by the hand, like an old friend and comrade,
glad to hear of the success of others ... among artistes....

And, suddenly, with head thrown back, full-throated, her feather nodding
hysterically on her head, Lily laughed ... laughed ... laughed!

Maud an artiste! On her hands! A candle in her eye! One fat freak the more
on the stage! Gee, they must drink to Glass-Eye's health: Glass-Eye, the
bill-topper!

They were all laughing now, filling their glasses at a table in the middle
of the stage, eating cakes, amusing themselves with the corks, which went
pop, like toy guns, and applauding with their thumb-nails. To the
Astrarium! And long live jollity! That night, they would one and all risk
their skins. They were like soldiers drinking to their sweethearts, in the
trenches, before the battle. And everything promised well; already a
legend was forming among the painted faces: the booking office besieged;
ladies and gentlemen in motors; motors in a row, miles and miles of
motors; the street bursting with people who had come to book seats! And
champagne on the stage, cakes, my, for the asking! An orgy which would
start its trip around the world to-morrow, with those few bottles
transformed into a Niagara of champagne, enough to flood every greenroom
from the Klondike to Calcutta!

They all enjoyed themselves and let themselves go. And the Roofers, wh