s,
where it was one of the three pieces offered for an evening's programme,
I mentally reviewed the cast and presently made answer, cheerfully and
honestly: "Oh, yes! I see--it's that--'er--_Aline?_ _Justine?_ No, no!
_Claudine?_ that's the name of the maid. You want me to go on for that?
All right! anything to help!"

He leaned forward, asking, eagerly: "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do!" I answered.

"Ah!" he cried, "you don't guess well, Miss Morris, but you've the heart
of a good comrade, and now I'm sure you will do as I ask you, and play
_Alixe_ for me?"

I sprang to my feet with a bound. "_Alixe?_" I cried. "I to play that
child? oh, impossible! No--no! I should be absurd! I--I--I know too
much--oh, you understand what I mean! She is a little convent-bred bit of
innocence--a veritable baby of sixteen years! Dear Mr. Daly don't you
see, I should ruin the play?"

He answered, rather coldly: "You are not given to ruining plays. The part
does not amount to much. Good heavens! I admit it does not suit you, but
think of my position; give me the benefit of your name as _Alixe_ for one
single week, and on the second Monday night Miss Jewett shall take the
part off your hands."

"But," I whimpered, "the critics will make me the butt of their ridicule,
for I can't make myself look like an _Alixe_."

"Oh, no they won't!" he answered, sharply. "Of course you won't expect a
success, but you need fear no gibes for trying to help me out of a
dramatic hole. Will you help me?" And of course there was nothing to do
but swallow hard and hold out my hand for the unwelcome part.

Imagine my surprise when, on my way to rehearsal, I saw posters up,
announcing the production of the play of "Alixe." I met Mr. Daly at the
door and said: "Why this play was always called 'The Countess of
Somerive.'"

"Yes," he replied, "I know--but 'Alixe' looks well, it's odd and
pretty--and well, it will lend a little importance to the part!"--which
shows how heavy were the scales upon our eyes while we were rehearsing
the new play.

Everyone sympathized with me, but said a week would soon pass, and I
groaned and ordered heelless slippers, and flaxen hair parted simply and
waved back from the temples to fall loosely on the shoulders, to avoid
the height that heels and the fashionable chignon would give me, while a
thin, white nun's veiling gown, high-necked and long-sleeved, over a
low-cut white silk lining, buttoned at the back and finish