She's a nuisance in the company,
always making trouble, and she can go."

"But I would prefer not to go," said Jill.

"You would prefer!" The phrase infuriated Mr. Goble. "And what has
what you would prefer got to do with it?"

"Well, you see," said Jill, "I forgot to tell you before, but I own
the piece!"

III

Mr. Goble's jaw fell. He had been waving his hands in another spacious
gesture, and he remained frozen with outstretched arms, like a
semaphore. This evening had been a series of shocks for him, but this
was the worst shock of all.

"You--what!" he stammered.

"I own the piece," repeated Jill. "Surely that gives me authority to
say what I want done and what I don't want done."

There was a silence, Mr. Goble, who was having difficulty with his
vocal chords, swallowed once or twice. Wally and Mr. Pilkington stared
dumbly. At the back of the stage, a belated scene-shifter, homeward
bound, was whistling as much as he could remember of the refrain of a
popular song.

"What do you mean you own the piece?" Mr. Goble at length gurgled.

"I bought it."

"You bought it?"

"I bought Mr. Pilkington's share through a lawyer for ten thousand
dollars."

"Ten thousand dollars! Where did you get ten thousand dollars?" Light
broke upon Mr. Goble. The thing became clear to him. "Damn it!" he
cried. "I might have known you had some man behind you! You'd never
have been so darned fresh if you hadn't had some John in the
background, paying the bills! Well, of all the...."

He broke off abruptly, not because he had said all that he wished to
say, for he had only touched the fringe of his subject, but because at
this point Wally's elbow smote him in the parts about the third button
of his waistcoat and jarred all the breath out of him.

"Be quiet!" said Wally dangerously. He turned to Jill. "Jill, you
don't mind telling me how you got ten thousand dollars, do you?"

"Of course not, Wally. Uncle Chris sent it to me. Do you remember
giving me a letter from him at Rochester? The cheque was in that."

Wally stared.

"Your uncle! But he hasn't any money!"

"He must have made it somehow."

"But he couldn't! How could he?"

Otis Pilkington suddenly gave tongue. He broke in on them with a loud
noise that was half a snort and half a yell. Stunned by the
information that it was Jill who had bought his share in the piece,
Mr. Pilkington's mind had recovered slowly and then had begun to work
with a quite unusual r