s the part the doctor always listened to whenever I had a cold,"
I replied as indifferently as possible. The man pondered over this for
a moment.

"Well," he replied at length, "probably the doctor was right, but to
the impartial observer it would seem to be, as my friend Tony so
accurately observed, the bottom part of your neck."

"It really doesn't matter much after all," I replied, hoping to close
the conversation. "You all were not sent here to establish the
location of the different parts of my anatomy, anyway."

The man appeared not to have heard me. "I'd swear," he murmured
musingly, standing back and regarding me with tilted head, "I'd swear
it was his neck if it warn't for his arms." He suddenly discontinued
his dreamy observations and became all business.

"Well, sir," he began briskly, "now that we've settled that what do
you want me to do to it?"

"Why, shave it, of course," I replied bitterly. "That's what you're
here for, isn't it? All us Show Girls have got to have our chests
shaved."

"An' after I've shaved your chest, dear," he asked in a soothing
voice, "what do you want me to do with it?"

"With what?" I replied, enraged, "with my chest?"

"No," he answered easily, "not your chest, but that one poor little
pitiful hair that adorns it. Do you want me to send it home to your
ma, all tied around with a pink ribbon?"

I saw no reason to reply to this insult, but stood uneasily and tried
to maintain my dignity while he lathered me with undue elaboration.
When it was time for him to produce his razor he faltered.

"I can't do it," he said brokenly, "I haven't the heart to cut it down
in its prime. It looks so lonely and helpless there by itself." He
swept his razor around several times with a free-handed,
blood-curdling swoop of his arm. "Well, here goes," he said, shutting
his eyes and approaching me. Tony turned away as if unable to witness
the scene. I was unnerved, but I stood my ground. The deed was done
and I was at last free to depart. "That's a terrible chest for a Show
Girl," I heard him to say to Tony as I did so.

_May 29th._ The world has come clattering down around my ears and I am
buried, crushed and bruised beneath the debris. There was a dress
rehearsal to-day, and I, from the whole company, was singled out for
the wrath of the gods.

"Who is that chorus girl on the end acting frantic?" cried out one of
the directors in the middle of a number. My name was shouted across
the