ice so commonplace that he jumped to hear
it, 'the kind creatures have left us half a bottle. One glass, Mr.
Armstrong, will do you good. You dress with Berry; hell help you with
your make-up. Don't be nervous. You've got the book to prop you till
the very end, and there you'll be as right as rain. Here's luck to your
first appearance.'

Paul took the glass she held out to him, but his hand trembled so that
he spilled one half its contents on the stage.

'How clumsy!' purred the leading lady. 'Here, take a full glass; there's
more in the bottle. There; chink glasses. Luck for to-night.'

He drank mechanically, and the stinging wine threw him into a fit of
coughing. Miss Belmont patted him laughingly on the back, and ran away
to her own room. Paul took his part from the stage, and tumbled up a
spiral iron staircase to the loft in which the leading comedian dressed.

'You'd better wear Bannister's togs, if they'll fit you,' said the
comedian; 'if not, you'll want a dress-suit for the second act.'

The clothes fitted excellently, and Berry saw to the neophyte's make-up,
painting and powdering him dexterously, and dressing the virginal beard
and moustache with a dark cosmetic.

'You're funking it,' the comedian said cheerfully. 'That's all right,
my boy; there never was a man worth his salt who didn't. Give me a new
part, and I'm as nervous as a cat. But you're in luck in a way, for
we've all been together so long in this that we could play it in our
sleep. There isn't one of us that doesn't know the thing inside-out and
upside-down and backwards.'

Paul crept down the spiral staircase, part in hand, and listened whilst
the local manager, who rather prided himself on his ability as
an orator, deplored the serious and sudden indisposition of that
established favourite, Mr. Bannister, and announced that Mr. Armstrong
had 'gallantly stepped into the breach,' and would essay the part,
literally at a moment's notice. Paul would most certainly have
ungallantly bolted out of the breach had that been possible; but the
people cheered the local manager cordially, and he, stepping back into
the gloom of the stage, found Paul shivering there, and tried to hearten
him.

The night went by in a sort of fog, but Paul read his lines somehow, and
made his crosses at the right places; and actors are eager to answer to
any little courtesy from a manager, and Darco's half-dozen of champagne
was richly paid for by the _elan_ with which