She stepped quickly backward, listening to the voices droning on the

stage, but there remained still a moment of liberty, and she glanced

uncertainly about at Winston.

"Am I to thank you for giving me such immaculate dressing-rooms of

late?" she questioned, just a little archly.

"I certainly wielded the broom."

"It was thoughtful of you," and her clear voice hesitated an instant.

"Was--was it you, also, who placed those flowers upon my trunk last

evening?"

He bowed, feeling slightly embarrassed by the swift returning restraint

in her manner.

"They were most beautiful. Where did you get them?"

"From Denver; they were forwarded by express, and I am only too glad if

they brought you pleasure."

"Miracle of miracles! A stage-hand ordering roses from Denver! It

must have cost you a week's salary."

He smiled: "And, alas, the salary has not even been paid."

Her eyes were uplifted to his face, yet fell as suddenly, shadowed

behind the long lashes.

"I thank you very much," she said, her voice trembling, "only please

don't do it again; I would rather not have you."

Before he could frame a satisfactory answer to so unexpected a

prohibition she had stepped forth upon the stage.

This brief interview did not prove as prolific of results as Winston

confidently expected. Miss Norvell evidently considered such casual

conversation no foundation for future friendship, and although she

greeted him when they again met, much as she acknowledged

acquaintanceship with the others of the troupe, there remained a quiet

reserve about her manner, which effectually barred all thought of

possible familiarity. Indeed, that she ever again considered him as in

any way differing from the others about her did not once occur to

Winston until one evening at Bluffton, when by chance he stood resting

behind a piece of set scenery and thus overheard the manager as he

halted the young lady on the way to her dressing room.

"Meess Norvell," and Albrecht stood rubbing his hands and smiling

genially, "at Gilchrist we are pilled to blay for dwo nights, und der

second blay vill be der 'Man from der Vest'--you know dot bart, Ida

Somers?"

"Yes," she acknowledged, "I am perfectly acquainted with the lines, but

who is to play Ralph Wilde?"

"Mister Mooney, of course. You tink dot I import some actors venever I

change der pill?"

She lifted her dark, expressive eyes to his mottled face, slowly

gathering up her skirts in one hand.




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