ference
toward everybody and everything, and hardened her, in a way.

Then Fritz, with his little scheme, entered into her education, and one
day, after he had asked her to play some of her best selections, a
stranger stepped out from an inner room to be introduced to her as the
manager of the Alhambra Theatre.

"My friend Geisling has told me about you, Miss Hutton," he said, "and I
wished to hear you play as you naturally would, so I asked to be kept in
hiding to hear you. You have a decided talent, and if you have the
courage, I think you could do a musical turn and do it well. If you will
come to the Alhambra to-morrow at ten with my friend here, we will give
you a rehearsal."

And Mona felt as if she were at that moment facing an audience!

"I have an ambition to play well, and some day in public," she said
faintly, and hardly realizing how it all came about, "but not yet. Oh,
no, I wouldn't dare," and she looked helplessly at her teacher.

"Ah, Mees Hutton, but you vill," he said excitedly, "und your fader said
you vill, und dat eet vas to be you broveshion, und you vill to blease
me try, I dinks," and he placed one hand upon his heart and bowed low.

"Oh, not yet, no! no!" exclaimed Mona, her heart sinking, as she stood
face to face with her longed-for opportunity. "I am not ready yet and
haven't the courage."

"That is but a mere trifle, Miss Hutton," answered the manager, looking
at her saintlike eyes, her sweet face, rounded shoulders, and swelling
bosom; and calculating their commercial value for stage purposes to a
nicety. "A mere trifle; you have the face and form, you play with
exceeding grace and delicate expression, no doubt due to your native
talent, and are sure to please. All you need is to forget that you are
playing to an audience, and you will win a storm of hands."

Then, like a shrewd man of business, he began politely to question her.
Where she came from, who taught her first, and how she came to wish to
play in public? In ten minutes he had grasped her entire history.

"It is not necessary," he said finally, to reassure her, "that you make
your first appearance at once. Come to the theatre to-morrow and look us
over. I feel sure you will succeed and win for yourself a great name.
And, by the way, I'd like a photograph of you in evening dress cut low."

Then, as if the matter were all settled, and this new attraction for his
vaudeville stage already engaged, he bowed himself out.

An