tupefied slumber.

"I think the manager will be up here in a moment," said Roger, when
Olive had taken her seat and Bettine had retreated to the corner, wiping
her eyes on the rough little pillow-case; and even as he spoke, there
came steps in the hall and a slight tap at the door, and Bettine
admitted the doctor, followed by a tall, surly-faced man, who looked
fiercely around the room, and scowled at Olive, who took her seat by the
bed, with an instinctive feeling that the unconscious sleeper might need
her protection.

"You see for yourself," said the doctor, stepping to the bed with the
stranger, after having bowed to Olive and Roger. "She is alive, and
really doing better than I expected; but a slight turn may be her
instant death, or she may live several months yet with perfect rest and
comfort. She can never be of further use to you, for her last note had
been sung, and her last act given."

The manager scowled down at the death-like sleeper.

"Nevertheless, I have a claim on her. I paid her fifty dollars in
advance to buy necessary stage-wardrobe," he said, with a heartless
coolness. "I never was such a fool before, but she had a fine voice and
good stage air, and I thought she'd last."

Almost before he finished speaking, Olive had leaped to her feet with
flashing eyes and quivering white lips, but before she could speak,
Roger's quiet voice interrupted:

"Will you step this way, sir, and make out your bill against the young
lady? I am quite ready to cancel all or any demands."

The manager turned and looked at him for a moment, in silence, then
crossed the room with a shrug of his shoulders, and took the pencil held
out to him, also the little page of blanks.

"Sign her release, while I make out your check," said Roger, drawing his
bank book from his pocket, and hastily filling a page, while the manager
slowly scrawled a few words on the blank, attached his name, and passed
it over, receiving the check in exchange.

"It's not half what I ought to receive," he said, with surly grimace.
"Here I've got to go and look up some one else, and she made the
performance fizzle out to-night, besides being a deal of trouble all
along with her delicate airs."

"Leave the room!" cried Olive fiercely, trembling and white with
uncontrollable rage. "You have killed her. I hope you will remember it
to your last day. You are her murderer, and whatever you paid her, it is
more than likely she had given her life to work