is enjoyed greatly,
for the old Englishman was ripe with humour and experience. He, too,
taught the teacher.

The day after he was free from cab duty Jarvis went to the Little
Theatre to get a report from "The Vision." The secretary said Mr. Ames
had asked to see him when he came in. He found him a lean student type
of man, finished in manner, and pleasant of speech.

"I have been interested in this play of yours, Mr. Jocelyn. I couldn't
do it, in my theatre, but I thought I would like to have a talk with you
and ask you what else you've done."

"A woman-question play, called 'Success,' this one, and one on Universal
Peace."

"All serious?"

"Certainly. Why do managers always ask that?"

"Because serious plays are so many, I suppose. Good comedies are so
few."

"I thought you always gave serious things in the Little Theatre?"

"I am forced to, but I am always looking for good comedy. I would like
to see your other plays."

They sat, discussing things of the theatre, tendencies in drama,
fashions and fads, Gordon Craig's book, the Rheinhardt idea. They spent
a pleasant half hour, like an oasis in Jarvis's desert. He felt that Mr.
Ames had time for him, was sincere in his interest in him. He left the
Little Theatre cheered in some inexplicable way.

When he returned to his lodgings that day he found a note from Strong,
forwarded from the old address. It acknowledged Jarvis's apology
gracefully, and suggested that they dine together the night of this very
day, unless Jarvis was again engaged, in which case he might telephone,
and they would make other plans. Jarvis frowned over it ten minutes.

"Might as well go and get it over," he remarked ungraciously. He
telephoned Strong his acceptance, and asked if he might meet him at the
restaurant. He did not wish Strong to know the new address. He would
keep his struggle and his poverty to himself. That was certain.

The two men met at a roof garden, each determined to suppress his
instinctive dislike of the other because of Bambi. They found a table,
and after a short period of stiffness they fell into easy talk of books
and plays and men.

"How do you like New York? I remember you confessed to hating cities
when I saw you."

"I still hate cities, but I am getting a new point of view about it
all."

"It's a great school."

"So it is."

"Is Mrs. Jocelyn well, and the Professor?"

"Yes, thank you."

"It is some time since you were home?"

"Yes."

"I