at, she was off the stage
in Letty's arms.

The worst was past, and for the rest of the evening she moved about
among the amateurs and professionals, talking, listening, observing,
finding out what it meant and taking mental notes of it all. Charley
Welsh constituted himself her preceptor and guardian angel, and so well
did he perform the self-allotted task that when it was all over she felt
fully prepared to write her article. But the proposition had been to do
two turns, and her native pluck forced her to live up to it. Also, in
the course of the intervening days, she discovered fleeting impressions
that required verification; so, on Saturday, she was back again, with
her telescope basket and Letty.

The manager seemed looking for her, and she caught an expression of
relief in his eyes when he first saw her. He hurried up, greeted her,
and bowed with a respect ludicrously at variance with his previous
ogre-like behavior. And as he bowed, across his shoulders she saw
Charley Welsh deliberately wink.

But the surprise had just begun. The manager begged to be introduced
to her sister, chatted entertainingly with the pair of them, and strove
greatly and anxiously to be agreeable. He even went so far as to give
Edna a dressing room to herself, to the unspeakable envy of the three
other amateur ladies of previous acquaintance. Edna was nonplussed,
and it was not till she met Charley Welsh in the passage that light was
thrown on the mystery.

"Hello!" he greeted her. "On Easy Street, eh? Everything slidin' your
way."

She smiled brightly.

"Thinks yer a female reporter, sure. I almost split when I saw'm layin'
himself out sweet an' pleasin'. Honest, now, that ain't yer graft, is
it?"

"I told you my experience with editors," she parried. "And honest now,
it was honest, too."

But the Only Charley Welsh shook his head dubiously. "Not that I care
a rap," he declared. "And if you are, just gimme a couple of lines of
notice, the right kind, good ad, you know. And if yer not, why yer all
right anyway. Yer not our class, that's straight."

After her turn, which she did this time with the nerve of an old
campaigner, the manager returned to the charge; and after saying nice
things and being generally nice himself, he came to the point.

"You'll treat us well, I hope," he said insinuatingly. "Do the right
thing by us, and all that?"

"Oh," she answered innocently, "you couldn't persuade me to do another
turn; I know I