t Jill through their
tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles. It was hopeless for Jill to try to
tell herself that the tender gleam behind the glass was not the love
light in Otis Pilkington's eyes. The truth was too obvious.

"Good evening, Miss Mariner," said Mr. Pilkington, his voice sounding
muffled and far away through the scarf. "Are you going up-town?"

"No, down-town," said Jill quickly.

"So am I," said Mr. Pilkington.

Jill felt annoyed, but helpless. It is difficult to bid a tactful
farewell to a man who has stated his intention of going in the same
direction as yourself. There was nothing for it but to accept the
unspoken offer of Otis Pilkington's escort. They began to walk down
Broadway together.

"I suppose you are tired after the rehearsal?" enquired Mr.
Pilkington in his precise voice. He always spoke as if he were
weighing each word and clipping it off a reel.

"A little. Mr. Miller is very enthusiastic."

"About the piece?" Her companion spoke eagerly.

"No; I meant hard-working."

"Has he said anything about the piece?"

"Well, no. You see, he doesn't confide in us a great deal, except to
tell us his opinion of the way we do the steps. I don't think we
impress him very much, to judge from what he says. But the girls say
he always tells every chorus he rehearses that it is the worst he ever
had anything to do with."

"And the chor--the--er--ladies of the ensemble? What do they think of
the piece?"

"Well, I don't suppose they are very good judges, are they?" said Jill
diplomatically.

"You mean they do not like it?"

"Some of them don't seem quite to understand it."

Mr. Pilkington was silent for a moment.

"I am beginning to wonder myself whether it may not be a little over
the heads of the public," he said ruefully. "When it was first
performed...."

"Oh, has it been done before?"

"By amateurs, yes, at the house of my aunt, Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim,
at Newport, last summer. In aid of the Armenian orphans. It was
extraordinarily well received on that occasion. We nearly made our
expenses. It was such a success that--I feel I can confide in you. I
should not like this repeated to your--your--the other ladies--it was
such a success that, against my aunt's advice, I decided to give it a
Broadway production. Between ourselves, I am shouldering practically
all the expenses of the undertaking. Mr. Goble has nothing to do with
the financial arrangements of 'The Rose of America.' Those are