but you re'lly mustn't--they're all clergymen's
daughters, doncher know?"

A sharp knock came to the door, followed by the first call of the
call-boy. "Half-hour, ladies." Then there was much bustle and some
irritation in the dressing-room and the tuning up of the orchestra
outside. The knock came again. "Curtain up, please." The door was thrown
open, the three ladies swept out--the tall one in tights, the little one
in a serpentine skirt, the plump one in some fancy costume--and Glory was
left to gather up the fragments, to listen to the orchestra, which was
now in full power, to think of it all and to laugh.

The ladies returned to the dressing-room again and again in the coarse of
the performance, and when not occupied with the changing of their dresses
they amused themselves variously. Sometimes they smoked cigarettes,
sometimes sent Collins for brandy and soda, sometimes talked of their
friends in front: 'Lord Johnny's 'ere again. See 'im in the prompt box?
It's 'is sixtieth night this piece, and there's only been sixty-nine of
the run--and sometimes they discussed the audience generally: "Don't
know what's a-matter with 'em to-night; ye may work yer eyes out and ye
can't get a 'and."

The curtain came down at length, the outdoor costumes were resumed, the
call-boy cried "Carriages, please," the ladies answered "Right ye are,
Tommy," her plump ladyship nodded to Glory, "You'll do middling, my dear,
when ye get yer 'and in"; and then nothing was left but the dark stage,
the blank house, and the "Good-night, miss," of the porter at the stage
door.

So these were favourites of the footlights! And Glory Quayle was dressing
and undressing them and preparing them for the stage! Next morning,
before rising, Glory tried to think it out. Were they so very beautiful?
Glory stretched up in bed to look at herself in the glass, and lay down
again with a smile. Were they so much cleverer than other people? It was
foolishness to think of it, for they were as empty as a drum. There must
be some explanation if a girl could only find it out.

The second night at the theatre passed much like the first, except that
the ladies were visited between the acts by a group of fellow-artistes
from another company, and then the free-and-easy manners of familiar
intercourse gave way to a style that was most circumspect and precise,
and, after the fashion of great ladies, they talked together of morning
calls and leaving cards and five-o'c