day at school, a little
shy and desirous of effacing herself. The talk dealt with clothes,
men, and the show business, in that order of importance. Presently one
of the young men sauntered diffidently across the room and added
himself to the group with the remark that it was a fine day. He was
received a little grudgingly, Jill thought, but by degrees succeeded
in assimilating himself. A second young man drifted up; reminded the
willowy girl that they had worked together in the western company of
"You're the One"; was recognized and introduced, and justified his
admission to the circle by a creditable imitation of a cat-fight. Five
minutes later he was addressing the Southern girl as "honey," and had
informed Jill that he had only joined this show to fill in before
opening on the three-a-day with the swellest little song-and-dance act
which he and a little girl who worked in the cabaret at Geisenheimer's
had fixed up.

On this scene of harmony and good-fellowship Mr. Saltzburg's chord
intruded jarringly. There was a general movement, and chairs and
benches were dragged to the piano. Mr. Saltzburg causing a momentary
delay by opening a large brown music-bag and digging in it like a
terrier at a rat-hole, conversation broke out again.

Mr. Saltzburg emerged from the bag, with his hands full of papers,
protesting.

"Childrun! Chil-_drun_! If you please, less noise and attend to me!"
He distributed sheets of paper. "Act One, Opening Chorus. I will play
the melody three--four times. Follow attentively. Then we will sing it
la-la-la, and after that we will sing the words. So!"

He struck the yellow-keyed piano a vicious blow, producing a tinny and
complaining sound. Bending forward with his spectacles almost touching
the music, he plodded determinedly through the tune, then encored
himself, and after that encored himself again. When he had done this,
he removed his spectacles and wiped them. There was a pause.

"Izzy," observed the willowy young lady chattily, leaning across Jill
and addressing the Southern girl's blonde friend, "has promised me a
sunburst!"

A general stir of interest and a coming close together of heads.

"What! Izzy!"

"Sure, Izzy."

"Well!"

"He's just landed the hat-check privilege at the St. Aurea!"

"You don't say!"

"He told me so last night and promised me the sunburst. He was,"
admitted the willowy girl regretfully, "a good bit tanked at the time,
but I guess he'll make good." She m