envy.

"Say!"

Miss Mabel Hobson had practically every personal advantage which
nature can bestow with the exception of a musical voice. Her figure was
perfect, her face beautiful, and her hair a mass of spun gold; but her
voice in moments of emotion was the voice of a peacock.

"Say, listen to me for just one moment!"

Mr. Bunbury recovered from his trance.

"Miss Hobson! Please!"

"Yes, that's all very well..."

"You are interrupting the rehearsal."

"You bet your sorrowful existence I'm interrupting the rehearsal,"
agreed Miss Hobson, with emphasis. "And, if you want to make a little
easy money, you go and bet somebody ten seeds that I'm going to
interrupt it again every time there's any talk of writing up any darned
part in the show except mine. Write up other people's parts? Not while I
have my strength!"

A young man with butter-coloured hair, who had entered from the wings in
close attendance on the injured lady, attempted to calm the storm.

"Now, sweetie!"

"Oh, can it, Reggie!" said Miss Hobson, curtly.

Mr. Cracknell obediently canned it. He was not one of your brutal
cave-men. He subsided into the recesses of a high collar and began to
chew the knob of his stick.

"I'm the star," resumed Miss Hobson, vehemently, "and, if you think
anybody else's part's going to be written up... well, pardon me while I
choke with laughter! If so much as a syllable is written into anybody's
part, I walk straight out on my two feet. You won't see me go, I'll be
so quick."

Mr. Bunbury sprang to his feet and waved his hands.

"For heaven's sake! Are we rehearsing, or is this a debating society?
Miss Hobson, nothing is going to be written into anybody's part. Now are
you satisfied?"

"She said..."

"Oh, never mind," observed Miss Winch, equably. "It was only a random
thought. Working for the good of the show all the time. That's me."

"Now, sweetie!" pleaded Mr. Cracknell, emerging from the collar like a
tortoise.

Miss Hobson reluctantly allowed herself to be reassured.

"Oh, well, that's all right, then. But don't forget I know how to look
after myself," she said, stating a fact which was abundantly obvious to
all who had had the privilege of listening to her. "Any raw work, and
out I walk so quick it'll make you giddy."

She retired, followed by Mr. Cracknell, and the wings swallowed her up.

"Shall I say my big speech now?" inquired Miss Winch, over the
footlights.

"Yes, yes! Get on with the