she said tensely.

Clayton closed the case and rose to his feet.

"Really, Miss Farnum, I didn't know you were so much in earnest about
it," he explained.

"You see, my service with Mrs. Kilpatrick ends in a few days," said
Martha, simply. "She is going to Italy, and there is nothing left for me
to do but return home, and our people are too poor and I must earn a
living to help them."

"So you really want to go on the stage?" said Clayton, thoughtfully. "I
wouldn't advise it. There are too many dangers, too many temptations."

"Do you think I care for the dangers?" cried Martha, almost
contemptuously. "All of the temptations are not on the stage. The
department stores, the shops, the offices--why not think of them? Girls
work there, hundreds and thousands of them. But the moment a girl
mentions the stage, some one cries out about the temptations. It's
absurd."

The fiery outburst of the young girl startled Clayton, who realized that
in an argument on this theme he was likely to be worsted. Moreover, he
was placed in the unenviable position of being obliged to argue against
a course which he felt sure would be disastrous, or at least difficult,
while during their short talk he had grown to be genuinely interested in
Martha. Like a prudent general, he sought safety in retreat.

"About these scarabs," he began, "I should like to speak to Mrs.
Kilpatrick."

Martha's thoughts, however, so suddenly directed to a new channel, were
difficult to concentrate on anything so mundane as scarabs. It was
several seconds before she recollected herself and answered his
question:

"Oh, yes," she repeated. "Mrs. Kilpatrick is in parlor A. She said she
would be glad to see you a little later."

Clayton bowed. "And I won't say farewell," he said, "as I'll surely see
you at dinner."

"The stage," repeated Martha, dreamily, after he had gone, sinking into
one of the large chairs and placing both hands to her throbbing temples.
"The stage. Why not? Why not?"

CHAPTER IV

A GLIMPSE INTO THE PAST

"This is the sun parlor, Pinkie," cried Flossie, ushering in the girl
who had just found a haven of refuge and a sanctuary for the penniless
at the Springs. "My word, but we do put on style at this rest-cure. I'm
having the time of my young life."

Pinkie Lexington gazed around her, and sighed with relief. The
well-dressed women in the distance made her instinctively think of her
own somewhat bedraggled tailor-made suit, ba