he amended his speech a
little.

"It won't do you any good to see him," he said sulkily.

"I'll see him, if you please," said Rose. "Will you have him called?"

The clerk hesitated. Stranded "actresses" weren't in the habit of
talking like that. They always wanted to see the proprietor, they were
always on the point of receiving an ample remittance from some generally
distant place. They were often very queenly, incredibly outraged that
their solvency should be questioned. But their voices never had the cool
confident ring that this girl's voice had, nor the look in their eyes,
the purposeful thrust.

He hesitated uncomfortably. Then his difficulty was solved for him.

"There he goes now," he said. "You can talk to him if you like."

The proprietor was sixty years old, perhaps; gray, stooped, stringy of
neck. He had a short-cropped mustache, one corner of which he was always
caressing with a protruding under-lip. He had a good shrewd pair of
eyes, not altogether unkindly. Rose had seen him before, but hadn't
known who he was.

He was making, just now, for a little office he had, that opened into
the railed-off space behind the desk, and, by another door, into the
corridor. He had another man with him, but it was evident that their
business wasn't going to take long. The door into the corridor was left
open behind them, and there Rose waited. When the other man came out,
she stepped inside.

There was nothing kindly about the look the proprietor's eyes directed
at her when he saw who she was. He looked up at her with a frown of
resignation.

"So you didn't go to Chicago with the rest of the troupe?" he said.
"That's where you made a mistake, I guess."

"I didn't want to go to Chicago," she said.

"I suppose," he drawled ironically, "you've written or telegraphed to
some friends for money, and that it's surely coming, and that you want
to stay here in my hotel on credit till it does. Well, there's not a
chance in the world. The clerk could have told you that. I suppose he
did."

"I haven't sent for money," said Rose. "There's no one I could send to.
I've got to earn it for myself and I thought there was as good a chance
to earn it here as in Chicago."

"Well, by God!" said the proprietor. "You've got your nerve with you at
any rate. But I'll tell you, young woman, the town of Centropolis don't
take kindly to the efforts of young women of your sort to make a living
nor to the way they make it."

"You're