mouth as if the after-taste of it were
unpleasant to him. He walked among the chorus like an angry king among
his vassals, and his glance was a flash of insolent fire. From his head
to his feet he was the very epitome of self-sufficient, brutal conceit.

Kitty trembled as she noted the hush that fell on the people at his
entrance. She felt like rushing out of the room. She could never face
this terrible man. She trembled more as she found his eyes fixed upon
her.

"Who 's that?" he asked, disregarding her, as if she had been a stick or
a stone.

"Well, don't snap her head off. It 's a girl friend of mine that wants a
place," said Hattie. She was the only one who would brave Martin.

"Humph. Let her wait. I ain't got no time to hear any one now. Get
yourselves in line, you all who are on to that first chorus, while I 'm
getting into my sweat-shirt."

He disappeared behind a screen, whence he emerged arrayed, or only half
arrayed, in a thick absorbing shirt and a thin pair of woollen trousers.
Then the work began. The man was indefatigable. He was like the spirit
of energy. He was in every place about the stage at once, leading the
chorus, showing them steps, twisting some awkward girl into shape,
shouting, gesticulating, abusing the pianist.

"Now, now," he would shout, "the left foot on that beat. Bah, bah, stop!
You walk like a lot of tin soldiers. Are your joints rusty? Do you want
oil? Look here, Taylor, if I did n't know you, I 'd take you for a
truck. Pick up your feet, open your mouths, and move, move, move! Oh!"
and he would drop his head in despair. "And to think that I 've got to
do something with these things in two weeks--two weeks!" Then he would
turn to them again with a sudden reaccession of eagerness. "Now, at it
again, at it again! Hold that note, hold it! Now whirl, and on the left
foot. Stop that music, stop it! Miss Coster, you 'll learn that step in
about a thousand years, and I 've got nine hundred and ninety-nine years
and fifty weeks less time than that to spare. Come here and try that
step with me. Don't be afraid to move. Step like a chicken on a hot
griddle!" And some blushing girl would come forward and go through the
step alone before all the rest.

Kitty contemplated the scene with a mind equally divided between fear
and anger. What should she do if he should so speak to her? Like the
others, no doubt, smile sheepishly and obey him. But she did not like to
believe it. She felt that