"What are you doing here? I thought you were in
Europe."

"I got back a week ago, but I've been nursing poor old Mr. Faucitt ever
since then. He's been ill, poor old dear. I've come here to see Mr.
Foster's play, 'The Primrose Way,' you know. Is it a success?"

"It hasn't opened yet."

"Don't be silly, Fill. Do pull yourself together. It opened last
Monday."

"No, it didn't. Haven't you heard? They've closed all the theatres
because of this infernal Spanish influenza. Nothing has been playing
this week. You must have seen it in the papers."

"I haven't had time to read the papers. Oh, Fill, what an awful shame!"

"Yes, it's pretty tough. Makes the company all on edge. I've had the
darndest time, I can tell you."

"Why, what have you got to do with it?"

Fillmore coughed.

"I--er--oh, I didn't tell you that. I'm sort of--er--mixed up in the
show. Cracknell--you remember he was at college with me--suggested that
I should come down and look at it. Shouldn't wonder if he wants me to
put money into it and so on."

"I thought he had all the money in the world."

"Yes, he has a lot, but these fellows like to let a pal in on a good
thing."

"Is it a good thing?"

"The play's fine."

"That's what Mr. Faucitt said. But Mabel Hobson..."

Fillmore's ample face registered emotion.

"She's an awful woman, Sally! She can't act, and she throws her
weight about all the time. The other day there was a fuss about a
paper-knife..."

"How do you mean, a fuss about a paper-knife?"

"One of the props, you know. It got mislaid. I'm certain it wasn't my
fault..."

"How could it have been your fault?" asked Sally wonderingly. Love
seemed to have the worst effects on Fillmore's mentality.

"Well--er--you know how it is. Angry woman... blames the first person
she sees... This paper-knife..."

Fillmore's voice trailed off into pained silence.

"Mr. Faucitt said Elsa Doland was good."

"Oh, she's all right," said Fillmore indifferently. "But--" His face
brightened and animation crept into his voice. "But the girl you want to
watch is Miss Winch. Gladys Winch. She plays the maid. She's only in
the first act, and hasn't much to say, except 'Did you ring, madam?' and
things like that. But it's the way she says 'em! Sally, that girl's a
genius! The greatest character actress in a dozen years! You mark my
words, in a darned little while you'll see her name up on Broadway in
electric light. Personality? Ask me! Charm? She