l bottles of beer, also contributed by
Martin. He knew that Tootles was not paid a penny during rehearsals.
She laughed several times and cracked one or two feeble jokes--poor
little soul with the swollen eyes and powder-dabbed face! Her bobbed
hair glistened under the light like the dome of the Palace of Cooch
Behar under the Indian sun.

"Boy," she said presently, putting her hand on his knees and closing
her tired eyes, "where's that magic carpet? If I could sit on it with
you and be taken to where the air's clean and the trees are whisperin'
and all the young things hoppin' about--I'd give twenty-five years of
me life, s'elp me Bob, I would."

"Would you, Tootles?" A sudden thought struck Martin. Make use of that
house in the country, make use of it, lying idle and neglected!

"Oh," she said, "to get away from all this for a bit--to shake Broadway
and grease paint and slang and electric light, if only for a week. I'm
fed up, boy. I'm all out, like an empty gasoline tin. I want to see
something clean and sweet."

Martin had made up his mind. Look at that poor little bruised soul, as
much in need of water as those sad flowers in the milk bottle.
"Tootles," he said, "pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, and be
ready for me in the morning."

"What d'yer mean, boy?"

"What I say. At eleven o'clock to-morrow--to-day, I'll have a car here
and drive you away to woods and birds and all clean things. I'll give
you a holiday in a big cathedral, and you shall lie and listen to God's
own choir."

"Go on--ye're pullin' me leg!"

She waved her hand to stop him. It was all too good to joke about.

"No, I'm not. I've got a house away in the country. It was my father's.
We shall both be proud to welcome you there, Tootles."

She sprang up, put her hands on his face and tilted it back and looked
into his eyes. It was true! It was true! She saw it there. And she
kissed him and gave a great sobbing sigh and went into her bedroom and
began to undress. Was there anything like life, after all?

Martin cleared the table and drew the curtains over the domestic
arrangements. He didn't like domestic arrangements. Then he sat down
and lighted a cigarette. His head was all blurred with sleep.

And presently a tired voice, called "Boy!" and he went in. The
all-too-golden head was deep into the pillow and long lashes made fans
on that powdered face.

"Where did you pinch the magic carpet?" she asked, and smiled, and fell
int