the stairs, and found signs of a thriving businessbeginning to present themselves as early as the third floor, wherehalf a dozen patient persons of either sex had draped themselves likeroosting fowls upon the banisters. There were more on the fourthfloor, and the landing of the fifth, which served the firm as awaiting-room, was quite full. It is the

for those who called to see them one small bench on thelanding, conveniently

telephone-girl, and Mr Goble's stenographer. Beyond this was the doormarked "Private," through which, as it opened to admit some careless,debonair, thousand-dollar-a-week comedian who sauntered in with ajaunty "Hello, Ike!" or some furred and scented female s

smartness. The men wore bright overcoats with bandsround the waist, the women those imi

dashing and very young

best results. The men were all so muchalike that they seemed to be members of one large family,--anillusion which was heightened by the scraps of conversation, stud

ht within her. The Berserk spirit was upon her,and she remembered the stimulating words of Mr Brown, of Brown andWidgeon, the best jazz-and-hokum team on t

board, was having anargument with Central which was already warm and threatened todescend shortly to personalities: on a chair tilted back so that itrested against the wall, a small

door marked "Private."Through it, as Jill reached

l boysare trained for these positions, where their finer instincts arerigorously uprooted and rudeness systematically inculcated bycompetent professors. Of this school the candy-eating Cerberus ofMessrs Goble and Cohn had been the star scholar. Quickly see

ice-boys he had a permanent cold in thehead--bit his thumb-nail, and spoke. He was a snub-nosed boy

ing within an ace of condensing theq

"Zout!" said the Pimple Kin

tion and at no period of history has any one ever been so brutallysuperior to any one else as is the Broadway theatrical office-boy tothe caller who wishes to see the manager. Thomas Jefferson held the

om theirpinnacle they look down on the common herd, the _canai

ssituation, had, she remembered, recommended "pushing the office-b

intend to bediverted from it. Her fingers were on the handle before any of thosepresent divined her intention. Then the stenographer stopped typingand sat with raised fingers, aghast. The g

pped and eyed th

peaking to you!""Don't do it again with you

ush of water. It was not remorse that causedhim to weep, however. In the heat of the

rticulate, his iron willtriumphing over th

ate talk with Mr Goble."Ralph, his eyes still moist, felt that the situation

zout!_"Jill looke

ing the piano. Now he'ssinging! And it's no good telling me he's busy. If he was busy, hewouldn't have time to sing. If you're as deceitful as this at yourage, what do you expect to b

rnoon," she

papers which rose at one endof it to a sort of mountain of play-scripts in buff covers. There wasa bookshelf to the left. Photographs covered the walls. Near thewindow was a deep leather lounge: to the right of this stood a smallpiano, the music-stool of which was occupied by a young man withuntidy black

man, the longest and thinnest she had ever seen, was inthe act of rising to his feet, length upon length like an unfoldingsnake. At the moment of her entry he had been lying back in anoffice-chair, so that only a merely nominal section of his upperstructure was visibl

s young man enquiringly

w with no regard for the speed limits, the other atimid novice. All through the proceedings up to this point the dasherhad been in command. He had whisked her along at a break-neck pace,ignoring obstacles and p

e thin man towered overher. The black-haired

. ." sh

these men were just as scared as she was. And, atthe discovery, the dashing driver r

d the long young man, plucking nervously at thepa

he had wronged the

ord in the young man which seemed to make the world aflower-scented thing, full of soft music. Often as he had been inlove at first sight before in his time, Otis Pilkington could notrecall an occasion on which he had been in love at first sight morecompletely than now. When she smiled at him, it was as if the gatesof heaven had opened. He did not

.""Miss Mariner. May I introduce Mr Roland Trevis?"The man at the piano b

ons wasbroken by the sound of the telephone-bell on the desk. OtisPilkington, who had moved out into

ft aside to Mr Trevis. "Aunt Olive wanted me to go for a ride." Heturned to Jill. "Excuse me. Is there anything I can do for you, MissMariner?"Jill's composure was now completely restored. This interview wasturning out so totally different from anything she had expected. Theatmosphere was cosy and social. She felt as if she were back i

ington. He, too, appeared to be regarding

horus," exp

ed. He winced away from the

us in 'The Rose of

musical comedy."Mr P

tasy!_" he said. "But t

uke in his voice, "theservices of twelve r

ll, am Irefined enough, do you think?""I shall be only t

ubtful. He struck a note up in thetr

we have twelve girlsalready.""Then we must

umber," argu

eof America" had had its opening performance--at his aunt's house atNewport last Summer--with an all-star cast of society favorites andan ensemble recruited entirely from debutantes and matrons of theYounger Set. That was the sort of company

u very much

ept into the atmosphereagain. Jill felt the h

is a sort of Gilbert andSullivan oper

have in any sense succeeded in . . .""The book," said Mr Trevis, running his fingers over the pia

ing, it is up-to-date.""I _do_ try to strik

s," said Jill amiably, "as though the piece is bound to be atremendous success.""We hope so," said Mr Pilkington. "We feel that the time has comewhen the public is beginning to demand something better than what ithas been accustomed to. People are getting tired of the brain

should have walked in without knocking, like me," said Jill. Shegot up. "Well, it was very kind of you to see me when I came in sounceremoniously. But I felt it was no good waiting outside on thatlanding. I'm so glad everything is settled. Good-bye.""Good-bye, Miss Mariner." Mr Pilkington took

!" observed

awoke from day-d

r," said Mr Pilkington icily, "is a most charming,refined, cultured, and vivac

had entered the Gotham Theatre, but it seemed adifferent city to her. An hour ago, she had been a stranger, driftingaimlessly along its rapids. Now she belong

-second Street. It seemed thejolliest, alivest street she had ever encountered. The rattle of theElevated

eye could reach began to flowswiftly past. They moved in a double line, red limousines, bluelimousines, mauve limousines, green limousines. She stood waiting forthe flood to cease, and, as she did so, there purred past her thebiggest and

touched him. Then the polar-bear at the wheel, notinga gap in the traffic, stepped o

, and set out once more to find Nelly Bryant. Itoccurred to her, five minutes later, tha