doctor?"

"Oh, no, indeed, I'll be all right!" was her hasty answer.

"If you're not, don't be afraid to say so," spoke Mr. Pertell. "I can
understudy you----"

"Oh, no, indeed!" she exclaimed, energetically. If there is one thing
more than another that an actor or actress fears, it is being
supplanted in a role. Of course, all the important parts in a play
are "understudied"; that is, some other actor or actress than the
principal has learned the lines and "business" so, in case the latter
is taken ill, the play can go on, after a fashion. But players are
jealous of one another to a marked degree, and rather than permit
their understudy to succeed him, many a performer has gone on when
physically unfit. Perhaps it was this that induced Miss Dixon to
conceal the pain she was really suffering.

Mr. Pertell glanced sharply at her, and then his gaze roved to Ruth
and Alice, who were standing with their father. A musing look was on
the face of the manager. Miss Dixon saw it, and arose.

"I am perfectly able to go on, Mr. Pertell," she said, quickly.
"There is no need of getting anyone in my place."

She walked across the room, with a slight limp, and the spasm of pain
that showed on her face was quickly replaced by a smile. But it was
an obvious effort.

Miss Dixon staggered, and would have fallen had not Alice stepped
forward quickly and caught her.

"You really ought to have a doctor," Alice said, anxiously. "A
sprained ankle is sometimes quite serious."

"I don't need a doctor!" exclaimed the ingenue, sharply. "I shall be
all right. It will take some little time to repair the fence, and by
then----"

"You must let me attend to you," broke in a motherly voice, and Mrs.
Maguire, who, as Cora Ashleigh, had finished her part in a little
drama, came bustling over. "I'll put some hot compresses on your
ankle, and that will take out the pain," went on the elderly actress.
"Come along."

And Miss Dixon was glad enough to go. Mrs. Maguire was really a sort
of "mother" to the others of the company, and many a physical ache
and pain, as well as some mental ones, yielded to her ministering
care.

"Now, then, Pop, how are you coming on with that fence?" asked the
manager a little later.

"Oh, I'll get her done some time to-day if you don't give me too much
else to do," was the answer. "But I've had to quit work on that
trick auto you wanted--the one that turns into an airship."

"Pshaw! And I needed that, too. Wel