“Why, that would mean she’d have to learn practically the whole play,” said Connie.  “They ought to be willing to pay a good price for that.  Of course Miss Page is only seventeen,” she continued, a calculating eye on Julia, whose appearance did not belie the statement.

“No objection at all—­they are all very young!  Come now, what do you say, Miss Page?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Julia discontentedly.  “I’m not so crazy about acting,” she went on childishly.  “I’m not so sure I want all these swells to stand around and impose on me—­” She hesitated, uncertain and vague.  “And I don’t believe Mama’d be so anxious,” she submitted lamely.

Just then the door of Mr. Artheris’s office was opened, and a man put in his head.  He was a young man, tall, thin, faultlessly dressed, and possessed of an infectious smile.

“Excuse me, Mr. Artheris,” beamed the intruder, “but could I have a look at the stage?  Far be it from me to interrupt or any little thing like that,” he continued easily, “but my Mother’d have me dragged out and shot if I came home without seeing it!”

“Come in, come in, Mr. Hazzard,” said Artheris cordially; “you’re just the man we want to see!  Miss Girard—­Miss Page—­Mr. Hazzard.  Mr. Hazzard is managing this very affair—­manager, isn’t that it?”

“God knows what I am!” said Carter Hazzard, mopping his forehead, and appreciative of Miss Page’s beauty and the maturer charms of Miss Girard.  “I’m bell-hop for the whole crowd.  My sister plays Thomasine, her steady is Tweenwayes, and my Mother’s a director in the hospital.  Fix it up to suit yourselves; you’ll see that I’m every one’s goat.”

Both the girls laughed, and Artheris said: 

“I am glad you came in, for Miss Page is the young lady of whom I spoke to you.  Unfortunately, it seems that she has just promised to sign a contract with the Alcazar people.”

“Oh, shucks!  Can’t you put it off until after the fifteenth?” asked Mr. Hazzard in alarm.

“Too much money in it,” Connie said, shaking her head.

“Well—­well, we expected to—­to pay, of course,” Carter said, embarrassed at this crudeness.  And Julia, blushing furiously, muttered, “Oh—­it wasn’t the pay!”

“In a word, Miss Page’s price is twenty-five dollars a night,” said Artheris.  “Could your people pay it?”

“Why—­why, I suppose we could,” Hazzard said uncomfortably.  “It’s--it’s for a charity, you know,” he ended weakly.

“Well, Miss Page’s usual price is fifty; she’s already reduced it half!” Connie said briskly.

Julia was now bitterly ashamed of her manager and her friend; her face was burning.

“I’ll do it, of course,” she promised.  “And we’ll arrange the terms afterward!”

“Good work!” said Hazzard gayly.  In a few moments, when they all went out to look at the stage, he dropped behind the others and began to walk beside her.