eason. You didn't see his waistcoat just now. He
had covered it up. Conscience, I suppose. It was white and bulgy and
gleaming and full up of pearl buttons and everything. I saw Augustus
Bartlett curl up like a burnt feather when he caught sight of it. Still,
time seemed to heal the wound, and everybody relaxed after a bit. Mr.
Faucitt made a speech and I made a speech and cried, and...oh, it was
all very festive. It only needed you."

"I wish I could have come. I had to go to that dinner, though. Sally..."
Gerald paused, and Sally saw that he was electric with suppressed
excitement. "Sally, the play's going to be put on!"

Sally gave a little gasp. She had lived this moment in anticipation for
weeks. She had always known that sooner or later this would happen. She
had read his plays over and over again, and was convinced that they were
wonderful. Of course, hers was a biased view, but then Elsa Doland also
admired them; and Elsa's opinion was one that carried weight. Elsa was
another of those people who were bound to succeed suddenly. Even old Mr.
Faucitt, who was a stern judge of acting and rather inclined to consider
that nowadays there was no such thing, believed that she was a girl with
a future who would do something big directly she got her chance.

"Jerry!" She gave his arm a hug. "How simply terrific! Then Goble and
Kohn have changed their minds after all and want it? I knew they would."

A slight cloud seemed to dim the sunniness of the author's mood.

"No, not that one," he said reluctantly. "No hope there, I'm afraid. I
saw Goble this morning about that, and he said it didn't add up right.
The one that's going to be put on is 'The Primrose Way.' You remember?
It's got a big part for a girl in it."

"Of course! The one Elsa liked so much. Well, that's just as good. Who's
going to do it? I thought you hadn't sent it out again."

"Well, it happens..." Gerald hesitated once more. "It seems that this
man I was dining with to-night--a man named Cracknell..."

"Cracknell? Not the Cracknell?"

"The Cracknell?"

"The one people are always talking about. The man they call the
Millionaire Kid."

"Yes. Why, do you know him?"

"He was at Harvard with Fillmore. I never saw him, but he must be rather
a painful person."

"Oh, he's all right. Not much brains, of course, but--well, he's all
right. And, anyway, he wants to put the play on."

"Well, that's splendid," said Sally: but she could not get the right