p for the minor characters,
although most of his time was spent in painting scenery. He had married
a woman who was on the stage, and she had deserted him for one of the
actors, and left her child behind. Her faithlessness nearly broke his
heart. Through one of our own people in London he found us and sent the
child to the convent where we have a school for just such cases. When
the girl got to be seventeen years old he sent for her and she went to
London to see him. He remembered her mother's career, and guarded her
like a little plant. He never allowed her to come to the theatre except
in the middle of the day. Then she would come where he was at work up
on the top of the painting platform high above the stage. There he and
she would be alone. One morning while he was at work one of the
scene-shifters--a man with whom he had had some difficulty--met the
girl as she was crossing the high platform. He had never seen her
before and, thinking she was one of the chorus girls, threw his arm
about her. The girl screamed, the scene-painter dropped his brushes,
ran to her side, hit the man in the face--the scene-shifter lost his
balance and fell to the stage. Before he died in the hospital he told
who had struck him; he told why, too; that the scene-painter hated him;
and that the two had had an altercation the day before--about some
colors; which was not true, there only having been a difference of
opinion. The man fled to Paris with his daughter. The girl today is at
one of our institutions at Rouen. The detectives, suspecting that he
would try to see her, have been watching that place for the last five
months. All that time he has been employed in the garden of a convent
out of Paris. Last week we heard from a Sister in London that some one
had recognized him, although he had shaved off his beard--some visitor
or parent of one of the children, perhaps, who had come upon him
suddenly while at work in the garden beds. He is now a fugitive, hunted
like an animal. He never intended to harm this man--he only tried to
save his daughter--and yet he knew that because of the difficulty that
he had had with the dead man and the fact that his daughter's testimony
would not help him--she being an interested person--he would be made to
suffer for a crime he had not intended to commit. Now, would you hand
this poor father over to the police? In a year his daughter must leave
the convent. She then has no earthly protection."

Miss Jenning