smart frocks, and the men were clean shaven, but there
was an obsequious deference in their manner and a worried, expectant
expression on their faces that one sees only in dependents anxious to
please. In the far corner, near the window, was Mr. Quiller's private
office, on the frosted glass door of which was the word "Private."
Above the door, and all about the room were large cards bearing such
friendly greetings as: "MY TIME'S WORTH MONEY! DON'T WASTE IT." "THIS
IS MY BUSY DAY; BE BRIEF." "DON'T COME TILL I SEND FOR YOU--THIS MEANS
YOU!" The other decorations consisted of a number of theatrical
photographs tacked here and there on the walls and a few old playbills.
At a desk near the entrance, a slovenly office boy sat reading a dime
novel.

He looked up as Jim entered and nodded with familiar insolence. The
advance man was no stranger there. Each day for months past, he had
climbed those dingy stairs, only to get the same discouraging answer:
"Nothing doing." Yet he had persevered. He never let a day go by
without dropping in at least once. There was always the chance of
something turning up. Approaching the desk he inquired:

"Mr. Quiller in?"

"Busy!" growled the boy. With a gesture of his hand toward the others
already waiting, he said insolently: "All them people is here before
you."

Actors and actresses, when they are recognized as human beings at all,
are only "people" in managerial offices. The ordinary courtesies of
life do not extend to the humble player. The star, the public favorite,
is courted and fawned upon by the cringing theatre director, but the
rank and file of the profession are just "people". If the office boy
was rude, he merely reflected the scornful attitude of his superiors.

Weston quickly took a seat and waited. The others were strangers to
him. Their faces were familiar from seeing them frequently in the same
place, and he guessed that they had come on the same mission as
himself. Secretly, he felt sorry for them, especially for the women,
some of whom were young and pretty. They looked thin, careworn and sad.
Ah, who knew better than he, how hard and disappointing a career it
was! They were only beginners and already they were bitterly
disillusioned, while he had gone through it all and come out--a wreck!

The silence was awkward and oppressive. Through the closed door of the
private office was heard a man's harsh voice; then a woman's softer
tones in reply. One of those waiting w