and lifted the top. "American
Beauties, eh?" she added. "I counted the number of messenger boys who
came here yesterday to see Martha, and how many do you think there were?
Seven."

"I half believe she sends the things to herself," pouted Pinkie,
maliciously.

"She couldn't, my dear, on eighteen dollars a week in the chorus,"
laughed Flossie. "There's no use talking, Aunt Jane--Martha may have
been a little wild-flower when she blew into New York from the woods of
Indiana or Ohio or wherever it was, but one thing you must give her
credit for: some one must be awfully stuck on her."

CHAPTER VII

A HUNDRED-DOLLAR BILL

Martha walked home from the theater. It was after the matinee, in early
winter, the period of the year when upper Broadway is the most wonderful
street in all the world. Crowds of smartly dressed women and
well-groomed men surged to and fro; taxicabs and private limousines
darted in every direction; the clanging of the gongs of the street-cars
and the shrill cries of newsboys added to the general confusion; and the
lights of a thousand electric signs glared brilliantly in the
semi-darkness of early nightfall. Shop windows tempted the passer-by
most alluringly, and Martha gazed longingly into many of them, but shook
her head resolutely at the mere notion of purchasing anything. This was
New York. This was life. At last she, Martha Farnum, an insignificant
atom from a remote country town, was on Broadway, actually a part of
Broadway life, for she was the second girl from the end in the new
Casino production, "The Pet of Paris," and for more than four months now
had been thrilled, fascinated and enthralled by the lure of the stage.

During all these weeks, she had lived quietly and regularly at Mrs.
Anderson's boarding-house. Clayton had met her at the Grand Central
Station when she arrived in New York and had taken her to the place,
introducing her to Mrs. Anderson in words which she had resented, though
she had realized at the time that he was quite justified in his demands.

"Miss Farnum will be in your charge," he had explained. "It is
understood that she is to do exactly as you direct in all things. She is
not to accept dinner invitations from any one, she is to come straight
home after each performance, and she is to go nowhere unless you
accompany her."

These galling restrictions were now, however, beginning to prove
irksome. Youth cannot be chained too tightly without tugging at its