people, where Dymes sat by the fire smoking a cigarette. The
illustrious man apologised for receiving her here, instead of in the
manager's room, which he had hoped to make use of.

'Littlestone is in there, wrangling about something with Sophy Challis,
and they're likely to slang each other for an hour or two. Make
yourself comfortable. It's rather hot; take off those furry things.'

'Thank you,' replied Alma, concealing her nervousness with malapert
vivacity, 'I shall be quite comfortable in my own way. It _is_ rather
hot, and your smoke is rather thick, so I shall leave the door a little
open.'

Dymes showed his annoyance, but could offer no objection.

'We're getting into shape for this day week. Littlestone calls the
opera "Blue Noses"--it has been so confoundedly cold at rehearsals.'

Alma was seized by the ludicrous suggestion, and laughed without
restraint; her companion joined in, his loud neigh drowning her more
melodious merriment. This put them on natural terms of comradeship, and
then followed a long, animated talk. Dymes was of opinion that the
hiring of a hall and the fees of supplementary musicians might be
defrayed out of the sale of tickets; but there remained the item of
advertisement, and on this subject he had large ideas. He wanted 'to do
the thing properly'; otherwise he wouldn't do it at all. But Alma was
to take no thought for the cost; let it all be left to him.

'You want to succeed? All right; let your fiddling be up to the mark,
and I answer for the public. It's all between you and me; you needn't
say who is doing the job for you. Ada Wellington comes off on May the
10th; I shall put you down for a fortnight later. That gives you nearly
four months to prepare. Don't overdo it; keep right in health; take
plenty of exercise. You look very well now; keep it up, and you'll
_knock 'em_. I only wish it was the stage instead of the platform--but
no use talking about that, I suppose?'

'No use whatever,' Alma replied, flushing with various emotions.

In the course of his free talk, it happened that he addressed her as
'Alma'. She did not check him; but when the name again fell from his
lips, she said quietly, with a straight look----

'I think not. The proper name, if you please.'

Dymes took the rebuke good-humouredly. When their conversation was
over, he wished her to go with him to a restaurant for tea; but Alma
insisted on catching a certain train at Baker Street, and Dymes had to
be