Anne’s friends had thought her the ideal “Rosalind” in the High School production of the piece, but her powers as an actress under the constant instruction of Everett Southard had increased tenfold.  His own marvelous work was a source of inspiration to Anne, and from the instant that she set foot upon the stage until the final fall of the curtain she became and was “Rosalind.”

Thrilling with pride as she eagerly watched Anne’s triumph, Grace was in a maze of delight, and every round of applause that Anne received was as music to her ears.  David, too, was more deeply moved than he liked to admit even to himself.  In his own heart he had a distinct fear that in spite of her assertions to the contrary, Anne might after all yield to the call of her talent and seek a stage career.  During the evening he became so unusually grave and silent that Grace, having an inkling of what was passing in his mind, leaned over and said: 

“Don’t worry, David, she won’t.  I am sure of it.  Her mind is fixed upon college.”

David drew a long breath of almost relief.  “I believe it if you say so, Grace; it has worried me a lot, however.  She is such a wonderful little actress.”

“Nevertheless, take my word for it, she won’t,” was the assuring answer.

After the play was over, the visit behind the scenes being next on the programme, Mrs. Gibson and her charges were conducted through a long passage to the back of the house.  The boys were taken to Mr. Southard’s dressing room, and Mrs. Gibson and the five girls to Anne’s.

There were many exclamations over the cosy dressing room which Anne occupied.  As is the case in most of the recently built theatres, the star’s dressing room had been comfortably furnished and was in direct comparison to the cheerless, barn-like rooms that make life on the road a terror to professional people.

“You see, I have had you right with me,” smiled Anne, who was seated at a dressing table taking off her make-up with cold cream.  She pointed to a photograph that the Phi Sigma Tau had had taken the previous summer.

“Only one face missing to-night,” said Grace in low tones as she drew her chair close to Anne’s.

“Have you found out anything else?” asked Anne in the same guarded tones.

“Nothing very important,” replied Grace.  “Marian and Henry Hammond have had some sort of quarrel.  Nora saw them pass the other day without speaking.”

“That’s a step in the right direction”, said Anne.  “Once she has dropped him for good and all, she’ll begin to see her own folly.  Then she’ll come back and be her old self again.”

“I hope so,” sighed Grace.

Then the conversation became general and the two girls had no further opportunity for discussion of the subject.

Just as Anne had completed her dressing, a knock sounded on the door, and Mr. Southard’s deep voice called out: 

“All aboard for the actors’ retreat.”