Back to the pit, where you
belong." The manager's voice was full of meaning.

"Nell told me I might come here, sir," said the girl, faintly excusing
herself.

Hart's temper got the better of him. To admit before all that Nell ruled
the theatre was an affront to his managerial dignity which he could not
brook.

"Oh, Nell did, did she?" he almost shrieked, as he angrily paced the
room like some caged beast, gesticulating wildly.

The actors gathered in groups and looked askant.

"Gadso," he continued, "who is manager, I should like to know! Nell
would introduce her whole trade here if she could. Every orange-peddler
in London will set up a stand in the greenroom at the King's, next we
know. Out with you! This is a temple of art, not a marketplace. Out with
you!"

He seized Moll roughly in his anger and almost hurled her out at the
door. He would have done so, indeed, had not Nell entered at this moment
from the stage. Her eye caught the situation at a glance.

"Oh, blood, Iago, blood!" she exclaimed, mock-heroically, then burst
into the merriest laugh that one could care to hear. "How now, a tragedy
in the greenroom! What lamb is being sacrificed?"

Hart stood confused; the players whispered in expectation; and an amused
smile played upon the features of my Lord Buckingham at the manager's
discomfiture. Finally Hart found his tongue.

"An old comrade of yours at orange-vending before you lost the art of
acting," he suggested, with a glance at Moll.

[Illustration: "ENEMIES TO THE KING--BEWARE!"]
"By association with you, Jack?" replied the witch of the theatre in a
way which bespoke more answers that wisdom best not bring forth.

Nell's whole heart went out to the subject of the controversy. Poor
little tattered Orange Moll! She was carried back in an instant to her
own bitter life and bitter struggles when an orange-girl. Throwing an
arm about the child, she kissed away the tears with, "What is the
matter, dear Moll?"

"They are all mocking me, and sent me back to the pit," replied the
girl, hysterically.

"Shame on you all," said Nell; and the eyes that were so full of comedy
revealed tragic fire.

"Fy, fy," pleaded Hart; "I'll be charitable to-morrow, Nell, after this
strain is off--but a first night--"

"You need charity yourself?" suggested Nell; and she burst into a merry
laugh, in which many joined.

Buckingham instantly took up the gauntlet for a bold play, for a _coup
d'etat_ in flattery. "