“As it happens, I have,” he returned, surprised into interest.  “You knew Joe Pitcher, of course.  He spoke of you.  I remember the name very well.”

“Professor Pitcher!” she exclaimed radiantly.  “Of course I knew him--dear old man!  Where is he—­still there?”

“Still there,” he assented absently.  “You married, I think?”

“I am Mrs. Coppered now—­Mrs. Carey Coppered,” she said.  The man gave her a suddenly awakened glance.

“Surely,” he said thoughtfully.  They looked steadily at each other, and Duncan saw the color come into Margaret’s face.  There was a little silence.

Then the manager flung down his pencil, wheeled about in his chair, and rubbed his hands briskly together.

“Well!” he said.  “And you think you can take Miss Archer’s place, Mrs. Coppered?”

“If you will let me.”

“Why,” he said,—­and Duncan would not have believed that the somewhat heavy face could wear a look so pleasant,—­“you are doing so much, Mrs. Coppered, in stepping into the gap this way, that I’ll do my share if I can!  Perhaps I can’t arrange it, but we can try.  I’ll call a rehearsal and speak to Miss Forsythe to-night.  If you know the part, it’s just possible that by going over it now we can get out of a rehearsal tomorrow.  She wants to be with the little boy, eh?” he added musingly.  “Yes, I suppose it might make a big difference, his not being terrified by strangers.”  And then, turning toward Margaret, he said warmly and a little awkwardly:  “This is a remarkably kind thing for you to do, Mrs. Coppered.”

“Oh, I would do more than that for Mary Penrose,” said she, with a little difficulty.  “She knows it.  She wired me as a mad last hope today, and we came as fast as we could, Mr. Coppered and I.”  And she introduced Duncan very simply:  “My stepson, Mr. Wyatt.”

Duncan, fuming, could be silent no longer.

“I hope my—­Mrs. Coppered is not serious in offering to do this,” said he, very white, and in a slightly shaking voice.  “I assure you that my father—­that every one!—­would think it a most extraordinary thing to do!”

Mrs. Coppered laid her hand lightly on his arm.

“Yes, I know, Duncan!” said she, quickly, soothingly.  “I know how you feel!  But—­”

Duncan slightly repudiated the touch.

“I can’t think how you can consider it!” he said passionately, but in a low voice.  “A thing like this always gets out!  You know—­you know how your having been on the stage is regarded by our friends!  It is simply insane—­”

He had said a little more than he meant, in his high feeling, and Margaret’s face had grown white.

“I asked you only for your escort, Duncan,” she said gently, but with blazing eyes.  There was open hostility in the look they exchanged.

“I can’t see what good my escort does,” said the boy, childishly, “when you won’t listen to what you know is true!”