lingly.

Jane heard it all, remembered their names. She suspected that Jerry's
admission made the whole evening a success for Althea Morton. It
interested Jane, and amused her a little, to see his power over women.

"Whom did you get for Salome?" Althea asked him.

"Oh, I want you to meet her. She looks great."

He turned to find Jane almost beside them. He had not realized how near
to them she sat.

"Here you are! Mrs. Brendon, this is Miss Jane Judd. Miss Morton, Miss
Judd. If Miss Judd had not come to our rescue I do not know what we
would have done."

The women bowed to each other, and Mrs. Brendon frankly inspected Jane.

"Very good of you, I'm sure. You look charming."

"Thank you."

"What dance do you do?" Miss Morton inquired.

"Mr. Paxton has cut the dance."

"How could he? Why, that was the only thing to the part."

"Unfortunately, I do not dance."

"Oh, everybody dances now. You could have faked it. Do you hear that,
Mrs. Brendon, she isn't going to do any dance," Miss Morton said,
turning away to talk to Mrs. Brendon.

Jane felt, what they intended her to feel, that she was not of them,
however kind she had been in coming to the rescue. Jerry came up to them
again.

"I must carry Miss Judd off to look at the stage," he said, leading Jane
away.

"Doesn't Jerry look like a god?" said Mrs. Brendon, watching him. Althea
nodded.

"Are you frightened, Miss Judd?" Jerry asked.

"No."

Jane looked through the curtains at the great hall beyond and exclaimed
with pleasure.

"Like it?"

"It's splendid."

"You can gauge the length of your walk. The music will follow you, until
you're off."

"I understand."

The music began at that moment, and Jerry hurried away. Herod and his
Queen descended to their thrones, amid great applause. The first two
tableaux formed, appeared, descended. Jerry was everywhere. He came up
beside Jane.

"I go next, then you come. There is the head. The platter is not heavy
at all. Go out below the throne, nearest audience."

"All right."

His music sounded, so he sprang into his picture. He was greeted with
prolonged applause. Jane caught her breath in short gasps, while she
waited for her cue. The violin began a slow, sensuous strain. The stage
manager came to her, with her props.

"Now, Miss Salome," he said.

She picked up the head.

"Here, this goes, too."

"No, I can't use that. I want just the head," she answered, and stepped
into the oval, the