“He says that’s the best part.  Do you think you can do it?”

“I don’t know until I look it over.  You know I’m afraid, now that I’ve said I would.”

“Oh, go on.  What have you got to be afraid of?  It’s a cheap company.  The rest of them aren’t as good as you are.”

“Well, I’ll see,” said Carrie, pleased to have the part, for all her misgivings.

He sidled around, dressing and fidgeting before he arranged to make his next remark.

“They were getting ready to print the programs,” he said, “and I gave them the name of Carrie Madenda.  Was that all right?”

“Yes, I guess so,” said his companion, looking up at him.  She was thinking it was slightly strange.

“If you didn’t make a hit, you know,” he went on.

“Oh, yes,” she answered, rather pleased now with his caution.  It was clever for Drouet.

“I didn’t want to introduce you as my wife, because you’d feel worse then if you didn’t go.  They all know me so well.  But you’ll go all right.  Anyhow, you’ll probably never meet any of them again.”

“Oh, I don’t care,” said Carrie desperately.  She was determined now to have a try at the fascinating game.

Drouet breathed a sigh of relief.  He had been afraid that he was about to precipitate another conversation upon the marriage question.

The part of Laura, as Carrie found out when she began to examine it, was one of suffering and tears.  As delineated by Mr. Daly, it was true to the most sacred traditions of melodrama as he found it when he began his career.  The sorrowful demeanor, the tremolo music, the long, explanatory, cumulative addresses, all were there.

“Poor fellow,” read Carrie, consulting the text and drawing her voice out pathetically.  “Martin, be sure and give him a glass of wine before he goes.”

She was surprised at the briefness of the entire part, not knowing that she must be on the stage while others were talking, and not only be there, but also keep herself in harmony with the dramatic movement of the scenes.

“I think I can do that, though,” she concluded.

When Drouet came the next night, she was very much satisfied with her day’s study.

“Well, how goes it, Caddie?” he said.

“All right,” she laughed.  “I think I have it memorized nearly.”

“That’s good,” he said.  “Let’s hear some of it.”

“Oh, I don’t know whether I can get up and say it off here,” she said bashfully.

“Well, I don’t know why you shouldn’t.  It’ll be easier here than it will there.”

“I don’t know about that,” she answered.  Eventually she took off the ballroom episode with considerable feeling, forgetting, as she got deeper in the scene, all about Drouet, and letting herself rise to a fine state of feeling.

“Good,” said Drouet; “fine, out o’ sight!  You’re all right Caddie, I tell you.”