Lethbridge whispered hoarsely, "I told you how it would be in
the New Arts Theater. I told you a young man alone was likely to get
spoken to. Now those six girls know you're a broker!"

"Don't say it so loud," muttered Harrow savagely. "I'm all right so far,
for I haven't said a word."

"You'd better not," returned the other. "I wish that curtain would go up
and stay up. It will be my turn to sit next them after this act, you
know."

Harrow ventured to glance at the superb young creature sitting beside
him, and at the same instant she looked up and, catching his eye, smiled
in the most innocently friendly fashion--the direct, clear-eyed advance
of a child utterly unconscious of self.

"I have never before been in a theater," she said; "have you?"

"I--I beg your pardon," stammered Harrow when he found his voice, "but
_were_ you good enough to speak to _me_?"

"Why, yes!" she said, surprised but amiable; "shouldn't I have spoken to
you?"

"Indeed--oh, indeed you should!" said Harrow hastily, with a quick
glance at the poet. The poet, however, appeared to be immersed in
thought, lids partially closed, a benignant smile imprinted on his heavy
features.

"_What_ are you doing?" breathed Lethbridge in his ear. Harrow calmly
turned his back on his closest friend and gazed rapturously at his
goddess. And again her bewildering smile broke out and he fairly blinked
in its glory.

"This is my first play," she said; "I'm a little excited. I hope I shall
care for it."

"Haven't you ever seen a play?" asked Harrow, tenderly amazed.

"Never. You see, we always lived in the country, and we have always been
poor until my sister Iole married. And now our father has come to live
with his new son-in-law. So that is how we came to be here in New York."

"I am _so_ glad you _did_ come," said Harrow fervently.

"So are we. We have never before seen anything like a large city. We
have never had enough money to see one. But now that Iole is married,
everything is possible. It is all so interesting for us--particularly
the clothing. Do you like my gown?"

"It is a dream!" stammered the infatuated youth.

"Do you think so? I think it is wonderful--but not very comfortable."

"Doesn't it fit?" he inquired.

"Perfectly; that's the trouble. It is not comfortable. We never before
were permitted to wear skirts and all sorts of pretty fluffy frills
under them, and _such_ high heels, and _such_ long stockings, and _such_
tight la