kindness was the rule. For thus did the starry happiness
that glowed within the beatific bosom of the little "ingenue" make
Arcady around her.

At four o'clock Talbot Potter stepped to the front of the stage and
lifted his hand benevolently. "That will do for to-day," he said, facing
the company. "Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you. I have never had
a better rehearsal, and I think it is only your due to say you have
pleased me very much, indeed. I cannot tell you how much. I feel
strongly assured of our success in this play. Again I thank you.
Ladies and gentlemen"--he waved his hand in dismissal--"till to-morrow
morning."

"By Joles!" old Carson Tinker muttered. "I never knew anything like it!"

"Oh--ah--Packer," called the star, as the actors moved toward the doors.
"Packer, ask Miss--Malone to wait a moment. I want--I'd like to go over
a little business in the next act before tomorrow."

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" It was she who answered, turning eagerly to him.

"In a moment, Miss Malone." He spoke to the stage-manager in a low tone,
and the latter came down into the auditorium, where Canby and Tinker had
remained in their seats.

"He says for you not to wait, gentlemen. There's nothing more to do this
afternoon, and he may be detained quite a time."

The violet boutonniere and the white carnation went somewhat reluctantly
up the aisle together, and, after a last glance back at the stage from
the doorway, found themselves in the colder air of the lobby, a little
wilted.

Bidding Tinker farewell, on the steps of the theatre, Canby walked
briskly out to the Park, and there, abating his energy, paced the
loneliest paths he could find until long after dark. They were not
lonely for him; a radiant presence went with him through the twilight.
She was all about him: in the blue brightness of the afterglow, in the
haze of the meadow stretches, and in the elusive woodland scents that
vanished as he caught them;--she was in the rosy vapour wreaths on
the high horizon, in the laughter of children playing somewhere in the
darkness, in the twinkling of the lights that began to show--for now
she was wherever a lover finds his lady, and that is everywhere. He went
over and over their talk of the morning, rehearsing wonderful things he
would say to her upon the morrow, and taking the liberty of suggesting
replies from her even more wonderful. It was a rhapsody; he was as happy
as Tom o'Bedlam.

By and by, he went to a restaurant