emoiselle Gretry, you have something to say there."

"I can't say it," murmured the Gretry girl, her handkerchief to her
face.

"What now? Continue. Your lines are 'I must not be seen here. It would
betray all,' then conceal yourself in the arbor. Continue. Speak the
line. It is the cue of Arthur."

"I can't," mumbled the girl behind her handkerchief.

"Can't? Why, then?"

"I--I have the nose-bleed."

Upon the instant Monsieur Gerardy quite lost his temper. He turned
away, one hand to his head, rolling his eyes as if in mute appeal to
heaven, then, whirling about, shook his play-book at the unfortunate
Marion, crying out furiously:

"Ah, it lacked but that. You ought to understand at last, that when one
rehearses for a play one does not have the nose-bleed. It is not
decent."

Miss Gretry retired precipitately, and Laura came forward to say that
she would read Marion's lines.

"No, no!" cried Monsieur Gerardy. "You--ah, if they were all like you!
You are obliging, but it does not suffice. I am insulted."

The others, astonished, gathered about the "coach." They laboured to
explain. Miss Gretry had intended no slight. In fact she was often
taken that way; she was excited, nervous. But Monsieur Gerardy was not
to be placated. Ah, no! He knew what was due a gentleman. He closed his
eyes and raised his eyebrows to his very hair, murmuring superbly that
he was offended. He had but one phrase in answer to all their
explanations:

"One does not permit one's self to bleed at the nose during rehearsal."

Laura began to feel a certain resentment. The unfortunate Gretry girl
had gone away in tears. What with the embarrassment of the wrong gown,
the brow-beating, and the nose-bleed, she was not far from hysterics.
She had retired to the dining-room with Mrs. Cressler and from time to
time the sounds of her distress made themselves heard. Laura believed
it quite time to interfere. After all, who was this Gerardy person, to
give himself such airs? Poor Miss Gretry was to blame for nothing. She
fixed the little Frenchman with a direct glance, and Page, who caught a
glimpse of her face, recognised "the grand manner," and whispered to
Landry:

"He'd better look out; he's gone just about as far as Laura will allow."

"It is not convenient," vociferated the "coach." "It is not
permissible. I am offended."

"Monsieur Gerardy," said Laura, "we will say nothing more about it, if
you please."

There was a silence. Monsie