he gown Constance Stevens was wearing in the first
act and held it up with a murmur of satisfaction. Stripping off the gown
she wore she hastily donned this other costume. Then she sat down to
await what she believed would happen.

But while Mignon busied herself with her own affairs, Constance was
making a hurried search for Laurie Armitage. Unluckily, he had gone, for
the moment, to the front of the house. Professor Harmon, too, was not in
sight. He also had gone to the front to take his place in the orchestra
pit. What could she do? The performance was about to begin. To leave
the theatre on a search for Charlie meant disaster to Laurie's operetta.
To leave Charlie to wander about the streets alone was even more
terrifying. She flitted past the waiting choristers, drawn up for
action, without a word of explanation. Marjorie Dean caught one look at
her friend's terrified face. It was enough to convince her that
something unusual had happened. Slipping out of her place in the line
she followed Constance, who was making directly for the stage door.
Marjorie saw her fling it open and glance wildly into the night. She ran
toward Connie, calling out, "What is the matter?"

As the question crossed her lips both girls saw a familiar girlish
figure, strangely burdened, running toward them as fast as the weight
she carried would permit her to run. With a cry which rang in Marjorie's
ears for days afterwards Constance darted forward. She wrapped the girl
and her burden in a tumultuous embrace, laughing and crying in the same
breath.

"The cross girl got Charlie, then she runned away and Mary comed and
found him. Charlie's goin' to the the'tre to play in the band. Mary said
so." He wriggled from the tangle of encircling arms to the stone walk.
"Hello, Marj'ry," he greeted genially.

Marjorie turned from the marvelous sight of the two she loved best in
each other's arms. It was too wonderful for belief. Tardy remembrance
caused her to utter a dismayed, "You'll be late, Connie! Hurry in. Mary
and I will take care of Charlie. It doesn't matter if I do miss the
opening number."

With a swift glance at Mary that contained untold gratitude, Constance
faltered, "I--love--you--Mary, for taking care of Charlie! I'll see you
again as soon as I can. Good-bye!"

She was gone in a flash, leaving Mary and Marjorie to face each other
with full hearts.

"You are my own, dear Mary again." Marjorie's clear voice was husky with
emotion, "