ucket of water brought by the little girl from
the spring, and a bar of yellow soap. He made a quick toilet, and at
seven-thirty, a good hour before the lot would wake up, he was dressed
and at the door.

It might be chancy, opening that door; so he peered through a narrow
crack at first, listening intently. He could hear nothing and no one was
in sight. He pushed the latch--string through its hole, then opened the
door enough to emit his slender shape.

A moment later, ten feet from the closed door, he stood at ease,
scanning the log cabin as one who, passing by, had been attracted by its
quaint architecture. Then glancing in both directions to be again sure
that he was unobserved, he walked away from his new home.

He did not slink furtively. He took the middle of the street and there
was a bit of swagger to his gait. He felt rather set up about this
adventure. He reached what might have been called the lot's civic centre
and cast a patronizing eye along the ends of the big stages and the
long, low dressing--room building across from them. Before the open door
of the warehouse he paused to watch a truck being loaded with handsome
furniture--a drawing room was evidently to be set on one of the stages.
Rare rugs and beautiful chairs and tables were carefully brought out.
He had rather a superintending air as he watched this process. He might
have been taken for the owner of these costly things, watching to see
that no harm befell them. He strolled on when the truck had received
its load. Such people as he had met were only artisans, carpenters,
electricians, property-men. He faced them all confidently, with glances
of slightly amused tolerance. They were good men in their way but they
were not actors--not artists.

In the neatly landscaped little green place back of the office building
a climbing rose grew on a trellis. He plucked a pink bud, fixed it in
his lapel, and strolled down the street past the dressing rooms. Across
from these the doors of the big stages were slid back, and inside he
could see that sets were being assembled. The truckload of furniture
came to one of these doors and he again watched it as the stuff was
carried inside.

For all these workmen knew, he might presently be earning a princely
salary as he acted amid these beautiful objects, perhaps attending a
reception in a Fifth Avenue mansion where the father of a beautiful New
York society girl would tell him that he must first make good befo