into the gap this way, that I'll do my share if I
can! Perhaps I can't arrange it, but we can try. I'll call a rehearsal
and speak to Miss Forsythe to-night. If you know the part, it's just
possible that by going over it now we can get out of a rehearsal
tomorrow. She wants to be with the little boy, eh?" he added musingly.
"Yes, I suppose it might make a big difference, his not being terrified
by strangers." And then, turning toward Margaret, he said warmly and a
little awkwardly: "This is a remarkably kind thing for you to do, Mrs.
Coppered."

"Oh, I would do more than that for Mary Penrose," said she, with a
little difficulty. "She knows it. She wired me as a mad last hope
today, and we came as fast as we could, Mr. Coppered and I." And she
introduced Duncan very simply: "My stepson, Mr. Wyatt."

Duncan, fuming, could be silent no longer.

"I hope my--Mrs. Coppered is not serious in offering to do this," said
he, very white, and in a slightly shaking voice. "I assure you that my
father--that every one!--would think it a most extraordinary thing to
do!"

Mrs. Coppered laid her hand lightly on his arm.

"Yes, I know, Duncan!" said she, quickly, soothingly. "I know how you
feel! But--"

Duncan slightly repudiated the touch.

"I can't think how you can consider it!" he said passionately, but in a
low voice. "A thing like this always gets out! You know--you know how
your having been on the stage is regarded by our friends! It is simply
insane--"

He had said a little more than he meant, in his high feeling, and
Margaret's face had grown white.

"I asked you only for your escort, Duncan," she said gently, but with
blazing eyes. There was open hostility in the look they exchanged.

"I can't see what good my escort does," said the boy, childishly, "when
you won't listen to what you know is true!"

"Nevertheless, I still want it," she answered evenly. And after a
moment Duncan, true to his training, and already a little ashamed of
his ineffectual outburst,--for to waste a display of emotion was, in
his code, a lamentable breach of etiquette,--shrugged his shoulders.

"Still want to stay with it?" said Mr. Wyatt, giving her a shrewd,
friendly look.

"Certainly," she said promptly; but she was breathing fast.

"Then we might go and talk things over," he said; and a moment later
they were crossing the theatre to the stage door. The final curtain had
fallen only a moment before, but the lights were up, the orch