he conclusion of the trial Mr. Willis offered Denas twelve pounds
a week, and if she proved a favourite the sum was to be gradually
increased. The sum, though but a pittance of Roland's dreams, was at
least a livelihood and an earnest of advance, and it was readily
accepted. Then the little company sat down upon the empty stage and
discussed the special songs and costumes in which Denas was to make
her debut.

Never before in all his life had Roland found business so interesting.
He said to Denas, as they talked over the affair at their own
fireside, that he thought he also had found his vocation. He felt at
home on the stage. He never had felt at home in a bank or in a
business office. He was determined to study, and create a few great
characters, and become an actor. He felt the power; it was in him, he
said complacently. "Now," he added, "Denas, if you become a great
singer and I a great actor, we shall have the world at our feet. And I
like actors and those kind of people. I feel at home with them. I like
the life they lead--the jolly, come-day go-day, wandering kind of
life. I never was meant for a respectable man of business. No: the
stage! the stage! That is my real life. I am certain of it. I wonder I
never thought of it before."

It had been arranged that Denas was to open with Neil Gow's matchless
song of "_Caller Herrin'!_" and her dress was of course that of an
idealized Newhaven fisher-girl. Her short, many-coloured skirts, her
trig latched shoon, her open throat, and beautiful bare arms lifted to
the basket upon her head was a costume which suited her to admiration.
When she came stepping down the stage to the immortal notes, and her
voice thrilled the house with the ringing musical "cry" that none hear
and ever forget:

Cal-ler her-rin'! cal-ler her-rin'! cal-ler her-rin'!

the assembly broke into rapturous delight. It was a song not above
their comprehension and their feeling. It was interpreted by one to
whom the interpretation was as natural as breathing. She was recalled
again, and again, and again, and the uproar of approval only ceased
when the next singer advanced with a roll of music in his hand. He was
a pale, sentimental young man whose forte was despairing love-songs,
but

"The last links are broken
That bound me to thee"

had little interest after Mademoiselle Denasia's unique melody. For
it was by this name Denas had consented to be known, the French prefix
having but a very in