"Yes, a number of times, and since you withdrew your restrictions, I have had dinner with him frequently, but you know all about that."

"I couldn't expect you to be cooped up all the time," Clayton admitted, "especially when your salary leaped upward so amazingly. And I don't blame you for taking a more comfortable apartment in the Webster. Aunt Jane's boarding-house was all right for the chorus girl, but a trifle too _pa.s.se_ for the future star."

Martha shook her head sadly. "I think I was happier in those days than now," she mused. "The more one attempts, the greater the chance for failure. To-night I realize what is the ambition of most players, yet, somehow, I am filled with dread. It doesn't seem right that I, plain Martha Farnum, should be rushed upward like a skyrocket. Though the rocket shoots upward in a blaze of glory, the stick must fall."

"Good heavens, you mustn't antic.i.p.ate bad luck," protested Clayton, cheerily. "I'm going out front and witness your triumph."

"If it only is a triumph!" sighed Martha.

"It will be," insisted Clayton. "However, don't be nervous. Remember if you ever need me, I will be within call. _Au revoir_--and good luck to you," he added cordially, and in another moment he had gone, while Martha stood staring blankly before her, and wondering what the night would bring forth.

"Oh, Miss Farnum," cried Lizzie, suddenly emerging from the dressing-room, "you'd better hurry and dress for the first act. It is almost time for the overture."

"All right, Lizzie," answered Martha, going to the room and beginning to disrobe. A moment later, Miss Pinkie Lexington, made up for the part of a fashionable society woman, entered the green-room cautiously, and crossed to the door behind the boxes.

"Where can he be?" she murmured to herself. Then, hearing the call-boy crying "Overture, overture," in the distance, she started quickly toward the stage, only to pause abruptly when she found herself face to face with Miss Flossie Forsythe, neatly attired in a maid's costume, and wearing a white ap.r.o.n and cap.

"Oh, I wouldn't have come here, if I'd known you was here," declared Flossie, angrily.

Pinkie extended a conciliating hand and said grandly: "Let's be friends, Flossie. A girl shouldn't have enemies in the company."

"It is hard enough to be compelled to accept an engagement in the same company with you," replied Flossie, sarcastically, "but thank goodness, a girl can choose her own friends."

"It's the first part you ever had with real lines, isn't it?"

"No," cried Flossie, indignantly. "I had lines when I was with the 'Follies' on the New York roof."

"Oh, but I mean in a real play," replied Pinkie, superciliously.

"Anyhow, you don't want to get too gay with me. Remember, I got you this engagement. I asked Martha to give you a real part, because I knew you needed the money, now you've lost your lawsuit, and Mr. Zinsheimer, too."

"Zinsheimer!" repeated a stentorian voice behind them, as the proud possessor of that historic name appeared, gorgeous in the resplendency of an expansive shirt bosom and a white carnation in his b.u.t.ton-hole.

"Now, Pinkie, you know I told you to call me 'Feathers.'"

"Oh, Mr. Zinsheimer," half sobbed Flossie, "you are just in time. Even though you care nothing more for me, you are too much of a gentleman to let me be insulted. This _creature_ has--"

"Nothing of the kind, Feathers," interrupted Pinkie. "Flossie's still sore on me. I say, she'd better forget it. Girls ought to be friends when they're in the same company."

Zinsheimer raised his hands protestingly. "Aw, girls, cut it out, cut it out. People these days have to be important to have enemies. Forget it.

There's a great audience out in front and all of them waiting to see the little star. Ach Gott!" he added, as the green-baize doors were suddenly thrown open from the stage, and an excitable whirlwind blew in. "Ach Gott, what is this?"

"This" turned out to be an imposing figure attired in the white huzzar uniform of a German prince. His bronze wig with the pompadour effect, his upturned moustache, his glittering decorations and smart uniform, all indicated that he was a Great Personage. But, alas! from the knees downward the illusion stopped. "This" didn't wear any boots. In fact, he was in his stocking feet, and he trod the boards gingerly but none the less dramatically. "This," in other words, was Arnold Lawrence, leading man, and he was evidently somewhat _distrait_.

"Miss Farnum," he cried. "Where is Miss Farnum?"

"She's there in her dressing-room," explained Zinsheimer. "But she isn't coming out until--well, until she's more so than she is now. What's the matter?"

"That stupid bootmaker has failed to send my boots," shouted Lawrence.

"How can I go on without my boots? I have the part of a royal prince of the German Empire. Do you expect me to appear like this--without boots?"

"Go ask the property man," directed Zinsheimer. "He's got some."

"Bah! A German prince wear property boots? Impossible!"

Martha, all ready for the first act, appeared in the door of her dressing-room.

"Miss Farnum," cried Lawrence, dramatically, "my boots have not arrived.

I refuse to go on unless correctly dressed."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "MY BOOTS HAVE NOT ARRIVED, I REFUSE TO GO ON UNLESS CORRECTLY DRESSED."]

"But what can I do?" asked Martha, helplessly.

"Dismiss the audience. I will not appear without the proper costume."

"Oh, dear--please--"

"I will not act."

"But we can get some other boots--"

"I tell you, I will not act."

"For my sake--for the company's sake--"

"I must think first of my art," almost shouted Lawrence. "The critics are in front. If they saw me in boots not in keeping with the costume, they would say I dressed the part wrongly. I would be ruined."

Zinsheimer dragged the frantic leading man to one side. "Come here," he cried. "She's got enough to worry her to-night without you. Now, do you want the German prince to appear with a black eye?"

"But heavens, man, what am I to do?" protested Lawrence. "Look at me. I want my boots."

"Aw, go act barefooted," replied Zinsheimer, disgustedly.

"What? I barefoot?"

"Well, why not? You haven't got anything on Ruth and Isadora. If they can act barefooted, why not you?"

"Preposterous!" exploded Lawrence, seeing he was being made game of. "I tell you, I decline to act. It is the audience who suffers--not I."

Fortunately Weldon entered at this psychological moment with the package which had been delayed. The boots had been sent to the box-office instead of the stage entrance. Lawrence, calmed at once as if by magic, pounced upon it with a sigh of relief.

"My boots--at last," he cried. "It is all right, Miss Farnum. They have arrived. I will act to-night."

In the general laughter that ensued, came the sharp cry of the a.s.sistant stage manager calling "Places--first act." As Martha stepped toward the stage, half trembling with mingled nervousness and glad antic.i.p.ation at the actual realization of her much cherished ambition, Weldon touched her on the arm.

"One moment, if you please, Miss Farnum," he said softly. "Believe me, I regret to trouble you, but something very important has arisen. Mr.

Gordon wants to speak to you here."

Martha turned toward him in surprise. "Mr. Gordon?" she repeated. "How absurd! I can't see any one now."