“What do you think of them?” he asked.

“Oh, I guess we’ll be able to whip them into shape,” said the latter, with an air of strength under difficulties.

“I don’t know,” said the director.  “That fellow Bamberger strikes me as being a pretty poor shift for a lover.”

“He’s all we’ve got,” said Quincel, rolling up his eyes.  “Harrison went back on me at the last minute.  Who else can we get?”

“I don’t know,” said the director.  “I’m afraid he’ll never pick up.”

At this moment Bamberger was exclaiming, “Pearl, you are joking with me.”  “Look at that now,” said the director, whispering behind his hand.  “My Lord! what can you do with a man who drawls out a sentence like that?”

“Do the best you can,” said Quincel consolingly.

The rendition ran on in this wise until it came to where Carrie, as Laura, comes into the room to explain to Ray, who, after hearing Pearl’s statement about her birth, had written the letter repudiating her, which, however, he did not deliver.  Bamberger was just concluding the words of Ray, “I must go before she returns.  Her step!  Too late,” and was cramming the letter in his pocket, when she began sweetly with: 

“Ray!”

“Miss—­Miss Courtland,” Bamberger faltered weakly.

Carrie looked at him a moment and forgot all about the company present.  She began to feel the part, and summoned an indifferent smile to her lips, turning as the lines directed and going to a window, as if he were not present.  She did it with a grace which was fascinating to look upon.

“Who is that woman?” asked the director, watching Carrie in her little scene with Bamberger.

“Miss Madenda,” said Quincel.

“I know her name,” said the director, “but what does she do?”

“I don’t know,” said Quincel.  “She’s a friend of one of our members.”

“Well, she’s got more gumption than any one I’ve seen here so far—­ seems to take an interest in what she’s doing.”

“Pretty, too, isn’t she?” said Quincel.

The director strolled away without answering.

In the second scene, where she was supposed to face the company in the ball-room, she did even better, winning the smile of the director, who volunteered, because of her fascination for him, to come over and speak with her.

“Were you ever on the stage?” he asked insinuatingly.

“No,” said Carrie.

“You do so well, I thought you might have had some experience.”

Carrie only smiled consciously.

He walked away to listen to Bamberger, who was feebly spouting some ardent line.

Mrs. Morgan saw the drift of things and gleamed at Carrie with envious and snapping black eyes.

“She’s some cheap professional,” she gave herself the satisfaction of thinking, and scorned and hated her accordingly.