he hurrying crowds which were surging about them.

Cecil approached them slowly, and was about to pass on when his
attention and footsteps were suddenly arrested by hearing the younger of
the two ladies remark in a plaintive voice:

"But that doesn't help us to get any breakfast, Alvy."

"No, or dinner either," added the elder lady.

"Well," rejoined the gentleman addressed as "Alvy," who, in contrast to
the frock coats and smart tailor-made gowns of his three companions,
wore an outing suit, a short overcoat of box-cloth, a light, soft hat,
and a rather pronounced four-in-hand tie. "Well, I'm hungry myself, as
far as that goes."

Banborough was astonished. These fashionably dressed people in need of a
meal? Impossible! And yet--he turned to look at them again. No, they
were not quite gentlefolk. There was _something_-- He stumbled and
nearly fell over a dress-suit case, evidently belonging to one of the
party, and marked in large letters, "H. Tybalt Smith. A. B. C.
Company."

Actors, of course. That explained the situation--and the clothes.
Another company gone to pieces, and its members landed penniless and in
their costumes. It was too bad, and the young woman was so very
good-looking. If only he had some legitimate excuse for going to their
assistance.

Suddenly he stood motionless, petrified. An idea had occurred to him,
the boldness and originality of which fairly took his breath away. "The
Purple Kangaroo" wanted advertising, and his publishers refused to help
him. Well, why should he not advertise it himself? To think was to act.
Already the company were starting in a listless, dispirited way towards
the door. The Englishman summoned all his resolution to his aid, and,
overcoming his insular reticence, approached the leader of the party,
asking if he were Mr. Smith.

"H. Tybalt Smith, at your service, sir," replied that portly and
imposing individual.

Cecil Banborough bowed low.

"I hope you'll not think me intrusive," he said, "but I judge that
you're not now engaged, and as I'm at present in want of the services of
a first-class theatrical company, I ventured to address you."

"The manager skipped last evening," remarked the man in mufti.

"Alvy," corrected Mr. Smith, "I will conduct these negotiations. As Mr.
Spotts says, sir," he continued, indicating the last speaker, "with a
colloquialism that is his distinguishing characteristic, our manager is
not forthcoming, and--a--er--temporary embarr