y. Indeed, that she ever again considered him as in
any way differing from the others about her did not once occur to
Winston until one evening at Bluffton, when by chance he stood resting
behind a piece of set scenery and thus overheard the manager as he
halted the young lady on the way to her dressing room.

"Meess Norvell," and Albrecht stood rubbing his hands and smiling
genially, "at Gilchrist we are pilled to blay for dwo nights, und der
second blay vill be der 'Man from der Vest'--you know dot bart, Ida
Somers?"

"Yes," she acknowledged, "I am perfectly acquainted with the lines, but
who is to play Ralph Wilde?"

"Mister Mooney, of course. You tink dot I import some actors venever I
change der pill?"

She lifted her dark, expressive eyes to his mottled face, slowly
gathering up her skirts in one hand.

"As you please," she said quietly, "but I shall not play Ida Somers to
Mr. Mooney's Ralph Wilde. I told you as much plainly before we left
Denver, and it was for that special reason the 'Heart of the World' was
substituted. The more I have seen of Mr. Mooney since we took the
road, the less I am inclined to yield in this matter."

Albrecht laughed coarsely, his face reddening.

"Oh, bah!" he exclaimed, gruffly derisive. "Ven you begome star then
you can have dem tantrums, but not now, not mit me. You blay vat I
say, or I send back after some von else. You bedder not get too gay,
or you lose your job damn quick. You don't vant Mooney to make lofe to
you? You don't vant him to giss you?--hey, vos dot it?"

"Yes, that was exactly it."

"Ach!--you too nice to be brofessional; you like to choose your lofer,
hey? You forget you earn a livin' so. Vot you got against Mooney?"

Miss Norvell, her cheeks burning indignantly, her eyes already ablaze,
did not mince words.

"Nothing personally just so long as he keeps away from me," she
retorted clearly. "He is coarse, vulgar, boorish, and I have far too
much respect for myself to permit such a man to touch me, either upon
the stage or off; to have him kiss me would be an unbearable insult."

Albrecht, totally unable to comprehend the feelings of the girl,
shifted uneasily beneath the sharp sting of her words, yet continued to
smile idiotically.

"Dot is very nice, quite melodramatic, but it is not brofessional,
Meess," he stammered, striving to get hold of some satisfactory
argument. "Vy, Mooney vos not so pad. Meess Lyle she act dot bart mit
him