for the time
being, this is the safest place."
"Anne, why did you never tell us you were an actress!" demanded David.
"I was afraid to," faltered the girl. "I was afraid you would all hate
me if you knew the truth. Besides, I never acted but six months in all
my life. We toured in this play a year ago, and I knew the part
perfectly. It would have been cruel of me not to have played to-night.
The girl who usually does it was sick and there was no one to take her
part. When father told me that, I knew I should have to do it this once,
but if the fire panic hadn't started I couldn't have gotten away from
him very easily. He would have made a terrible scene. And even then, it
might have been difficult. No stranger would have helped me run away
from my own father, who is determined that I shall go on the stage. He
thinks I have the making of an actress. But I don't like the stage life.
It is hard and ugly. I want to study, and be with girls like you." A
charming smile radiated her small, intelligent face.
"Where do I come in?" asked David, looking at her.
"I think you are the best friend I have in the world, David," declared
Anne. "I can never forget your kindness."
"And now, Mademoiselle Annette Piersonelli," asked David, secretly much
pleased at the girl's earnestness, "can't you divest yourself of your
ragged dress before we go?"
"Yes, indeed," she replied. "I am fully clothed underneath." She slipped
off the stage dress and put on her hat and coat.
Meanwhile, not a soul was left in the theater except two of the ushers,
who were sniffing around trying to find out where the fire scare had
originated.
"There comes father," whispered Anne. "Can't we hide behind the seats?"
"Quick," cautioned David. "He's coming down the center aisle."
The five young people crouched low while the actor stalked down the
aisle. But it was plain he was not looking for his daughter in the
theater, for he called out to one of the ushers moving about at a
distance:
"Have you seen anything of the young girl who was with the company? I
lost her during the panic and I haven't been able to locate her since. I
must be leaving town in a few minutes," he added, consulting his watch.
"It's almost time for the train now."
"The company all left with the audience," said the usher. "I guess she
went along with 'em."
"Now is our time," said Anne, when the actor had disappeared. "Suppose
we go out the stage entrance and down that sid
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