“You might wear a mackintosh,” suggested Mr. Booth.

“Or borrow trunks of the trees,” added Mr. Irving.

“They’re off,” growled Mr. Jefferson, who hated the puns he did not make.

“Let’s dazzle the town, Cora,” said Jackie Blake; and before Tinkletown could take its second gasp for breath, the leading man and woman were slowly promenading the chief and only thoroughfare.

“By ginger! she’s a purty one, ain’t she?” murmured Ed Higgins, sole clerk at Lamson’s.  He stood in the doorway until she was out of sight and remained there for nearly an hour awaiting her return.  The men of Tinkletown took but one look at the pretty young woman, but that one look was continuous and unbroken.

“If this jay town can turn up enough money to-night to keep us from stranding, I’ll take off my hat to it for ever more,” said Jackie Blake.

“Boothby says the house is sold out,” said

Miss Marmaduke, a shade of anxiety in her dark eyes.  “Oh, how I wish we were at home again.”

“I’d rather starve in New York than feast in the high hills,” said he wistfully.  The idols to whom Tinkletown was paying homage were but human, after all.  For two months the Boothby Company had been buffeted from pillar to post, struggling hard to keep its head above water, always expecting the crash.  The “all-stars” were no more than striving young Thespians, who were kept playing throughout the heated term with this uncertain enterprise, solely because necessity was in command of their destinies.  It was not for them to enjoy a summer in ease and indolence.

“Never mind, dear,” said she, turning her green parasol so that it obstructed the intense but complimentary gaze of no less than a dozen men; “our luck will change.  We won’t be barn-storming for ever.”

“We’ve one thing to be thankful for, little woman,” said Jackie, his face brightening.  “We go out again this fall in the same company.  That’s luck, isn’t it?  We’ll be married as soon as we get back to New York and we won’t have to be separated for a whole season, at least.”

“Isn’t it dear to think of, Jackie sweetheart?  A whole season and then another, and then all of them after that?  Oh, dear, won’t it be sweet?” It was love’s young dream for both of them.

“Hello, what’s this?” exclaimed Orlando the Thousandth, pausing before a placard which covered the lower limbs of his pictorial partner.  “Ten Thousand Dollars reward!  Great Scott, Cora, wouldn’t I like to catch those fellows?  Great, eh?  But it’s a desperate gang!  The worst ever!”

Just then both became conscious of the fact that some one was scrutinising them intently from behind.  They turned and beheld Anderson Crow, his badges glistening.

“How are you, officer?” said Jackie cheerily.  Miss Marmaduke, in her happiness, beamed a smile upon the austere man with the chin whiskers.  Anderson was past seventy, but that smile caused the intake of his breath to almost lift him from the ground.