I'm signed up."

"One night, dear," Mrs. Tarbury said. "I don't think they've decided on
the play."

"I don't know," Julia hesitated. "What d'ye think, Mama?"

"I think he's got his gall along," Mrs. Page admitted. "One night!--and
to learn the whole thing for that. I'll tell you what to tell him--you
tell him this: you say that you can't do it for one cent less'n a
hundred dollars!"

"Lay down, Towse!" said Connie Girard, and Mrs. Tarbury expressed the
same incredulity as she said benevolently: "What a pipe dream, Em--she's
lucky if she gets ten!"

"Ten!" squeaked Julia's mother, but Julia silenced her by saying
carelessly:

"I'll tell you what, Aunt Min. If Con and I get through in time we'll go
in and see Artheris to-day. I'd do it for twenty-five--"

"You would not!" said her mother.

"Well, you might get twenty-five," Mrs. Tarbury said, mollified, "if
it's a long part."

"If it don't take a lot of dressing," Julia said thoughtfully, as she
and Miss Girard powdered their noses at the dark mirror of the
sideboard.

"Don't you be fool enough to do it for a cent under fifty," Emeline
said.

Julia smiled at her vaguely, and added to her farewells a daughterly,
"Your hat's all right, Mama, but your veil's sort of caught up over your
ear. Fix it before you go out. We'll be back here at five--"

"Or we'll meet you at Monte's,'" said Connie.

The two girls walked briskly down Eddy Street, conscious of their own
charms, and conscious of the world about them. Connie was nearly
nineteen, a simple, happy little flirt, who had been in and out of love
constantly for three or four years. Julia knew her very well, and
admired her heartily. Connie had twice had a speaking part in the past
year, and the younger girl felt her to be well on her way toward fame.
Miss Girard's family of plain, respectable folk lived in Stockton, and
were somewhat distressed by her choice of a vocation, but Connie was
really a rather well-behaved girl,--and a safe adviser for Julia.

"Say, listen, Con," said Julia, presently, "you know Mark Rosenthal?"

"Sure," said Connie. "Look here, Ju!" She paused at a window. "Don't you
think these Chinese hand bags are swell!"

"Grand. But listen, Con," said Julia, shamefacedly honest as a boy.
"He's got a case on me----"

"On you?" echoed Connie. "Why, he's twenty!"

"I know it," Julia agreed.

"But, my Lord, Ju, your Mother won't stand for that!"

"Mama don't know it."

"Well, I don't