well on that occasion," she answered. "Did you see
Mr. Benson this morning? and what did he say to you?"

"A great deal--he was quite enthusiastic--for _him_, you know."

"I wonder what he is like," she murmured with her large, sweet
seriousness. "Is he married, and has he any children?"

"I didn't investigate. You see I was more interested in my own affairs.
He wants Katie Hanska to take the leading part. You may have seen her
picture--it was in one of the magazines I brought you."

"Did you enquire anything about her?" she asked earnestly, "I mean about
her character and her bringing up. I couldn't bear to have the part
played by any but a pure woman, and they tell me that so many actresses
aren't--aren't quite that. Before you consent I hope you'll find out
very particularly about the life she has led."

"Oh, I dare say she's all right," he remarked, with the affectionate
patience which was one of his more amiable characteristics. "At any rate
she has the mettle for the role."

"I hope she's good," said his mother softly, and she added after a
moment, "do you remember that poor Christina Coles I was telling you
about not long ago?"

"Why, yes," replied Trent; "the pretty girl with the blue eyes and the
uncompromising manner? What's become of her, I wonder?"

"I fear," began his mother, while she lowered her voice and glanced
timidly around as if she were on the point of a shameful disclosure, "I
honestly fear that she is starving."

"Starving!" exclaimed St. George, in horror, and he sprang to his feet
as if he meant to plunge at once into a work of rescue. "Why, how long
has she been about it?"

"I know she has stopped coming to see me because her clothes are so
shabby," returned Mrs. Trent, with what seemed to him a calmness that
was almost cruel, "and the charwoman tells me that she lives on next to
nothing--a loaf of baker's bread and a bit of cheese for dinner. It
takes all the little money she can rake and scrape together to pay her
room rent--for it seems that the papers have stopped publishing her
stories."

"For God's sake, let's do something--let's do it quickly," exclaimed
Trent, in an agony of sympathy.

"I was just thinking that you might run up and see if she would come
down to dine with us," said the old lady; "it really makes me miserable
to feel that she doesn't get even enough to eat."

"Why, I'll go before I dress--I'll go this very minute," declared the
young man. "Shall I tell her