'Well, you know we're all made up here. There's a small part in the new drama to be produced next week; I wouldn't like to offer it as it is, but I might get the author to write it up.' 'It will do first rate. I'm sure to be able to make something of it. What's the screw?' 'That's just the point. We can't afford to pay much for it; our salary list is too big as it is.' 'What did you intend giving for it?' 'Well, we meant to give it to a super, but for you I can have it written up. What do you say to two-ten?' Dick thought it would be judicious to pause, and after a short silence he said: 'I've had, as you know, bigger things to do; but I'm awfully obliged to you, old pal. You're doing me a good turn that I shan't forget; we can consider the matter as settled.' This was a stroke of luck, and Dick congratulated himself warmly, until he remembered that £2 10s. at the end of next week did not put a farthing into his present pocket. Money he would have to find that day, how he did not know. He called upon everybody he had ever heard of; he visited all the theatres and ball-rooms, drank interminable drinks, listened to endless stories, and when questioned as to what he was doing himself, grew delightfully mendacious, and, upon the slight basis of his engagement for the new drama at the Royal, constructed a fabulous scheme for the production of new pieces. In this way the afternoon went by, and he was beginning to give up hopes of turning over any money that day, when he met a dramatic author. After the usual salutations--'How do you do, old boy? How's business?' etc.--had been exchanged, the young man said: 'Had a bit of luck; just sold my piece--you know the drama I read you, the one in which the mother saves her child from the burning house?' 'How much did you get?' 'Seventy-five pound down, and two pounds a night.' At the idea of so much money Dick's eyes glistened, and he immediately proceeded to unfold a scheme he had been meditating for some time back for the building of a new theatre. The author listened attentively, and after having dangled about the lamp-post for half an hour, they mutually agreed to eat a bit of dinner together and afterwards go home and read another new piece that was, so said the fortunate author, a clinker. No better excuse than his wife's confinement could be found for fixing the meeting hour at the young man's lodging, and in the enthusiasm which the reading of the acts engendered, it was easy for Dick to ask for, and difficult for his friend to refuse, a cheque for £15. XXIII