d foolish looking; others very serious. Neale smiled at Agnes
and waved his hand encouragingly. Her confident pose delighted him.

Now they were on! It was easy, after all, to keep step with the music.
She knew the words of the opening song perfectly. Agnes had a clear, if
light contralto voice; the alto part was easy for her to sing.

With a vim that seemed not to have been in the chorus before, the number
came to a finish. The girls and boys fell back. Innocent Delight was in
the centre of the stage, ready to welcome the Carnation Countess.

Agnes was slow in speaking; her words seemed to drag a bit. Madam Shaw
was waiting impatiently to come on. But the stage manager whispered
shrilly:

"Quite right, my dear! quite right! The Countess is supposed to come on
in a sedan chair, and you must give her time."

The professionals noted the girl's familiarity with the stage
instructions; always, wherever the manager had explained in the earlier
rehearsals the reason for some stage change, Innocent Delight had the
matter pat. The action of the play was not retarded in any particular
for the new girl. And her ability in handling the character of the
blithe, joyous, light-hearted girl was most natural.

Somehow, this chief amateur part going so well, pulled the others up to
the mark. But there was still much to be wished for in the case of
Cheerful Grigg, the twins, Sunbeam and Moonbeam, and Lily White.

"I'd like to get hold of some of those other girls that Mr. Marks
considers it his duty to punish," growled the professor. "What's all
this foolishness about, anyway? Doesn't he want the play to be a
success?"

He said this to Miss Lederer, the principal's assistant. She shook her
head, sadly.

"I am sorry that you can't have them, Professor," she said. "But of
course, this is only temporary for Agnes."

"What's that?" he demanded angrily.

"Why, she cannot play Innocent Delight for you," the teacher said
firmly. "I am not sure that Mr. Marks will like it as it is."

"He's _got_ to like it!" interrupted the professor. "I've just got to
have the girl--there are no two ways about it. I tell you, without her
the schools might as well give up trying to put on the play. That other
girl, who was wished on me, is not fitted for the part at all."

"But you have given it to her."

"And I can take it away; you watch me!" snapped the director. "And I am
going to have this Agnes, as you call her, Marks or no Marks!"

"Is t