iet voice. It was the
first time he had spoken since he had coolly and silently picked Miss
Adair up off a bench in the little railroad station and put her into the
sympathetic young Dago's one-man-power conveyance.

"I can take ten yards of calico, a pot of red wagon paint, and a pretty
gal and make a show to fill any theater on Broadway for six months--if
I'm let alone," answered Mr. Rooney, with the assurance that moves
mountains. "That Lindsey is one good actor with common horse-sense, and
the little author filly has Blue-grass speed. Watch us!"

"Goes!" answered Mr. Vandeford, and steel sparks struck out in his keen
eyes as he turned and went rapidly to one of the long-distance telephone
booths with which all Atlantic City keeps up its intimate relations with
New York. It was also astonishing how quickly he got his connection with
a great New York morning paper and was put on the desk wire of one of
the junior editors, who was a good friend in need.

. . . . . .

"Hello, Curt. Godfrey Vandeford speaking."

. . . . . .

"With my show in Atlantic City. Can you get a note across in the morning
issue?"

. . . . . .

"Good! Spread it that Hawtry is put out of 'The Purple Slipper' cast to
give place to a new Pacific Coast star, Mildred Lindsey. Hawtry handed
it to Denny and me rotten, but put that under pretty deep, with Lindsey
blazed in top lines. I'll have my publicity man send you a special
Lindsey Sunday story. Hot stuff."

. . . . . .

"Thanks, old man! By!"

* * * * *

Another fifteen minutes was spent in long distance communication with
Mr. Meyers, and it was ten minutes after three o'clock in the morning
when Mr. Vandeford slipped into his chair beside his author in the
little Atlantic City Theater, which Mr. Rooney had induced the old night
watchman door-keeper to open up at the hour when all teeming Atlantic
City is in the depths of repose. Mr. Rooney had with him the entire cast
of "The Purple Slipper," to whom he had just finished explaining the
cause of their extraction from their well-earned repose.

"Most of the Sister Harriet scenes are with me," Miss Bebe Herne was
saying, with efficient energy fairly radiating from her big body,
clothed in a decorous tailor skirt, but with a boudoir jacket serving
for blouse. Also two kid curlers showed at the nape of her neck. "I can
feed Miss Grayson into Miss Lindsey's part enough to get by
to-morrow--to-night