hes on his dictagraph-recorder. His mind was so over-wrought with
his work that Mary thought it better not to tell him of the exciting
afternoon until later. She simply introduced Henrietta as a friend
from the country who was going to spend the night. Lorna was courteous
enough to the newcomer, but seemed abstracted and dreamy. She
neglected the little household duties, making the burden harder for
Mary. Henrietta's rustic training, however, asserted itself, and she
gladly took a hand in the preparation of the evening meal.

"I've a novel I want to finish reading, Mary," said her sister, "and if
you don't mind I'm going to do it. You and Miss Bailey don't need me.
I'll go into our room until supper is ready."

"What is it, dear? It must be very interesting," replied Mary, a shade
of uneasiness coming over her. "You are not usually so literary after
the hard work at the store all day."

Lorna laughed.

"It's time I improved my mind, then. A friend gave it to me--it's the
story of a chorus girl who married a rich club man, by Robin Chalmers,
and oh, Mary! It's simply the most exciting thing you ever read. The
stage does give a girl chances that she never gets working in a store,
doesn't it?"

"There are several kinds of chances, Lorna," answered the older girl
slowly. "There are many girls who beautify their own lives by their
success on the stage, but you know, there are a great many more who
find in that life a terrible current to fight against. While they may
make large salaries, as measured against what you and I earn, they must
rehearse sometimes for months without salary at all. If the show is
successful they are in luck for a while, and their pictures are in
every paper. They spend their salary money to buy prettier clothes and
to live in beautiful surroundings, and they gauge their expenditures
upon what they are earning from week to week. But girls I have known
tell me that is the great trouble. For when the play loses its
popularity, or fails, they have accustomed themselves to extravagant
tastes, and they must rehearse for another show, without money coming
in."

"Oh, but a clever girl can pick out a good opportunity."

"No, she can't. She is dependent upon the judgment of the managers,
and if you watch and see that two of every three shows put on right in
New York never last a month out, you'll see that the managers' judgment
is not so very keen. Even the best season of a play hardl