lbert before
me as a model. Whether I have in any sense succeeded in...."

"The book," said Mr. Trevis, running his fingers over the piano, "is
as good as anything Gilbert ever wrote."

"Oh, come, Rolie!" protested Mr. Pilkington modestly.

"Better," insisted Mr. Trevis. "For one thing, it is up-to-date."

"I _do_ try to strike the modern note," murmured Mr. Pilkington.

"And you have avoided Gilbert's mistake of being too fanciful."

"He _was_ fanciful," admitted Mr. Pilkington. "The music," he added,
in a generous spirit of give and take, "has all Sullivan's melody with
a newness of rhythm peculiarly its own. You will like the music."

"It sounds," said Jill amiably, "as though the piece is bound to be a
tremendous success."

"We hope so," said Mr. Pilkington. "We feel that the time has come
when the public is beginning to demand something better than what it
has been accustomed to. People are getting tired of the brainless
trash and jingly tunes which have been given them by men like Wallace
Mason and George Bevan. They want a certain polish.... It was just the
same in Gilbert and Sullivan's day. They started writing at a time
when the musical stage had reached a terrible depth of inanity. The
theatre was given over to burlesques of the most idiotic description.
The public was waiting eagerly to welcome something of a higher class.
It is just the same to-day. But the managers will not see it. 'The
Rose of America' went up and down Broadway for months, knocking at
managers' doors."

"It should have walked in without knocking, like me," said Jill. She
got up. "Well, it was very kind of you to see me when I came in so
unceremoniously. But I felt it was no good waiting outside on that
landing. I'm so glad everything is settled. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Miss Mariner." Mr. Pilkington took her outstretched hand
devoutly. "There is a rehearsal called for the ensemble at--when is
it, Rolie?"

"Eleven o'clock, day after to-morrow, at Bryant Hall."

"I'll be there," said Jill. "Good-bye, and thank you very much."

The silence which had fallen upon the room as she left it was broken
by Mr. Trevis.

"Some pip!" observed Mr. Trevis.

Otis Pilkington awoke from day-dreams with a start.

"What did you say?"

"That girl.... I said she was some pippin!"

"Miss Mariner," said Mr. Pilkington icily, "is a most charming,
refined, cultured, and vivacious girl, if you mean that."

"Yes," said Mr. Trevis. "That was what