It was about this time that the newspapers and magazines were beginning to pay that illustrative attention to the beauties of the stage which has since become fervid.  The newspapers, and particularly the Sunday newspapers, indulged in large decorative theatrical pages, in which the faces and forms of well-known theatrical celebrities appeared, enclosed with artistic scrolls.  The magazines also or at least one or two of the newer ones-published occasional portraits of pretty stars, and now and again photos of scenes from various plays.  Carrie watched these with growing interest.  When would a scene from her opera appear?  When would some paper think her photo worth while?

The Sunday before taking her new part she scanned the theatrical pages for some little notice.  It would have accorded with her expectations if nothing had been said, but there in the squibs, tailing off several more substantial items, was a wee notice.  Carrie read it with a tingling body: 

“The part of Katisha, the country maid, in ‘The Wives of Abdul’ at the Broadway, heretofore played by Inez Carew, will be hereafter filled by Carrie Madenda, one of the cleverest members of the chorus.”

Carrie hugged herself with delight.  Oh, wasn’t it just fine!  At last!  The first, the long-hoped for, the delightful notice!  And they called her clever.  She could hardly restrain herself from laughing loudly.  Had Lola seen it?

“They’ve got a notice here of the part I’m going to play tomorrow night,” said Carrie to her friend.

“Oh, jolly!  Have they?” cried Lola, running to her.  “That’s all right,” she said, looking.  “You’ll get more now, if you do well.  I had my picture in the ‘World’ once.”

“Did you?” asked Carrie.

“Did I?  Well, I should say,” returned the little girl.  “They had a frame around it.”

Carrie laughed.

“They’ve never published my picture.”

“But they will,” said Lola.  “You’ll see.  You do better than most that get theirs in now.”

Carrie felt deeply grateful for this.  She almost loved Lola for the sympathy and praise she extended.  It was so helpful to her-so almost necessary.

Fulfilling her part capably brought another notice in the papers that she was doing her work acceptably.  This pleased her immensely.  She began to think the world was taking note of her.

The first week she got her thirty-five dollars, it seemed an enormous sum.  Paying only three dollars for room rent seemed ridiculous.  After giving Lola her twenty-five, she still had seven dollars left.  With four left over from previous earnings, she had eleven.  Five of this went to pay the regular installment on the clothes she had to buy.  The next week she was even in greater feather.  Now, only three dollars need be paid for room rent and five on her clothes.  The rest she had for food and her own whims.

“You’d better save a little for summer,” cautioned Lola.  “We’ll probably close in May.”