ght to go in for
melodrama."

Martha, who had heard enough of the commotion to realize what was going
on, entered and congratulated both Flossie and Mr. Zinsheimer.

"Sorry you are leaving this place," volunteered "Marky." "Any--er--money
troubles?"

"None whatever, thank you," replied Martha. "I am going to leave the
stage and go back to my old home in Indiana."

"Leave the stage?" gasped Flossie.

"If you ever need assistance, you know"--"Marky" coughed
confidentially.

[Illustration: "SHE LOOKED LIKE A TURNIP AND ACTED THE PART
ARTISTICALLY."]

"Thank you. Good-bye," replied Martha, smiling.

"Marky," pouted Flossie, "I think we'd better be going. Come--you
promised to buy me a lot of new things this morning. Hurry up, _angel_."

"Angel?" repeated Zinsheimer. "That's just what I would like to be, but
she won't let me. All right, Flossie, I'm coming."

CHAPTER XV

THE FINAL RECKONING

Gordon, too, had spent a restless night. Leaving the theater abruptly
after giving orders to dismiss the audience, he had driven furiously to
his club. There, in the seclusion of the grill-room and in a niche not
far removed from the bar, he had endeavored to alleviate his
disappointment by partaking of many gin rickeys. Late at night some of
his friends interrupted him at this amusement to tell him of the new
play at the Globe.

"New play?" he repeated. "Why, the theater wasn't open."

"Sure it was," replied one of his companions. "But they might as well
have kept it closed. Beastly piece, hackneyed stuff, stale jokes, bad
company, and the star--piffle. Nice enough little girl, you know, very
pretty and all that, but she can't act for sour apples."

Gordon listened in surprise. "You mean to say," he demanded, "that
Martha Farnum appeared at the Globe to-night?"

"Surest thing you know," his friend replied. "I was there and saw her."

Thereupon Gordon had hunted up Weldon, bitterly assailed him for his
treachery, and learned the whole truth of Clayton's interference. The
fact that the girl had won out against him worried him. People didn't
usually triumph over his bulldog tenacity and obstinate determination.
However, when the morning broke, he felt that he must have another
interview with the girl. If he had been mistaken in her--if she really
had the divine spark, after all, or something in its place which helped
her to face that unsympathetic audience the night before--he wanted to
discover it, too. Ther