lost himself in the depths of the worshiping,
gray eyes that seemed to have been lifted to his for all eternity in
that terrible faith and gratitude. Then he went into action as captain
of the ship which was to come into the port of Adairville, Kentucky,
with all sails set, loaded or bearing his dead body.

"You and Miss Adair extract money from Pops with a can-opener while I
discuss a few details with Miss Lindsey, in the office," he commanded
coolly, ushered Miss Lindsey into the sanctum and softly closed the
door.

"Mr. Vandeford," Miss Lindsey began rapidly, "I knew it wasn't fair to
make any definite arrangements with Mr. Farraday, and of course I will
take whatever salary you--"

"Where do you live, Miss Lindsey?" Mr. Vandeford interrupted to ask with
a totally unwarranted interest on the part of a manager in the affairs
of an actor he has engaged. Miss Lindsey, for the second time that day,
underpainted her own cheeks and laughed as she answered:

"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me, but I also live at the
Y. W. C. A., though I give Mrs. Parkham's as my address for letters and
telephone calls. It's cheap and--and I have done dining-room work there
for a month, waiting--waiting for--for a part in a play."

"Great guns, how that hunch works!" exclaimed the well-known producer,
as he sank into his chair from positive weakness. "You take in this
situation, don't you?" he demanded with a quick recovery.

"I think I do," answered Miss Lindsey. Then she lifted her big black
eyes, in which shone the psychic hunger, though that of the body had
been appeased. "I've got to make good, Mr. Vandeford, and I'll do
anything you want me to. I've got every right--to live at the Y. W. C.
A., and a right to hand food to--to that child in there. You can trust
me."

"I believe I can," Mr. Vandeford answered, after looking at her keenly
for a few seconds with the glance with which he had picked his winners
or failures in the human comedy for many experienced years. "Stop your
dining-room work at the nunnery and see that she has a good time, just
you and she together. I'll send you matinee tickets to shows I want her
to see, and Mr. Farraday and I'll look after the other amusement. I want
her to meet only the people I introduce her to, and the Y. W. C. A. is
the best place to live in New York--for her. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Find out how much money she has."

"I know now; she told me. She's got a ticket home, good