hess has forgiven you. She is on your side against Rich, who does not
care a farthing for the music. He would alter his mind could he but hear
you. Huddy must let you go. The Duke's Theatre is waiting for you."

In all Gay's letters there was not a word about Lancelot Vane. Lavinia
would like to have known the fate of his play and the next instant was
angry with herself for still feeling an interest in her faithless swain.

"Let him waste himself on Sally Salisbury if he likes," she cried
scornfully. "He's nothing to me."

Gay's assertion that Rich's theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields waited for
her was soon verified. One of Rich's staff waited upon her when Huddy's
company was playing at Woolwich, and she went off with him in high
spirits and amid much growling from Huddy. Rich was pleased to express
his approval of her appearance.

"I'll put on a play for you and that'll tell me if you knows your
business," grunted the ungrammatical Rich.

The play was a poor thing--"The Wits," one of D'Avenant's comedies. The
best part about it to Lavinia's fancy was the advertisement in the
_Daily Post_ where she read "Ginnet by Miss Fenton." Ginnet was but a
stage waiting maid and Lavinia had little to do and less to say. "The
Wits" ran but one night, quite as long as it was worth.

"You'll do pretty well," said Rich, "but I can't say more'n that. My
theatre shuts for the next three months. When the season starts I'll
find you summat else."

"Three months!" exclaimed Lavinia ruefully. "And what am I to do all
that time, Mr. Rich?"

"That's your business, miss. If I was you I'd try one of the summer
theatres. There's the Little Theatre in the Haymarket. May be you might
get a part. But mind this, you're to come back here in October. I'll put
you into something as'll soot you."

What could Lavinia say to this? It was at once sweet and bitter. She had
made good her footing at Rich's theatre and could she only tide over the
summer months she would be on the stepping stones of success. But
meanwhile? She took Rich's advice and went to the Little Theatre. She
found she had not the ghost of a chance of an engagement. Drury Lane and
the Duke's Theatres were closed (Covent Garden Theatre was not then
built), and actors and actresses of established reputation were
clamorous for something to do. Lavinia retired discomfited.

She had to go back to Huddy's, to the mumming booth and the innyard.
There was no help for it. The summer passe