For the angry face had suddenly wreathed itself in smiles, and the divorcée advanced with outstretched hand to meet Sybil, who, the scene being over, was hesitating which way to turn. "Come and sit here by me," she cooed. "Does your throat get dry from long speaking? Mine does." And she offered a beautiful little bonbonnière, saying, "Try these French paste troches, they are delicious." And the actor, Joseph Grant, who detested her, said, aside to old Mrs. Elmer: "Do you see that? Manice is not getting ready to pump, is she? She'll know that pretty girl's history clear from the very day of her birth before the next act is set." "Not if Stewart Thrall is as clever as I think he is. There!" chuckled the old woman. "What did I tell you? Oh, do look at Manice's face!" For Mr. Thrall had suddenly called out, seeing who was talking to her: "Miss Lawton! Here I am in the parquet. Your aunt would like to speak to you during this wait!" And no one guessed that the white-haired, upright old person attending Sybil, as watchful chaperon, was really only Mrs. Van Camp's ancient maid, who, at the instigation of Thrall, had been commanded thus to masquerade. And the papers duly noted: "That the young society bud, who had abandoned all social delights for love of art, had arrived promptly at the stage-door, an aristocratic, white-haired lady--a relative--accompanying her, and waiting patiently during the entire rehearsal, thus disposing of the rumor that her family was bitterly opposing the step she was taking." Truly Thrall was pulling the wires, even the very little wires, for small people must be made to dance as well as great ones, if your ballroom is to present a really animated appearance. Miss Cora Manice was not in the bill, and her unnecessary presence at rehearsals met with such frowning disapproval from Thrall that she withdrew, but with a furious face that fully presaged, to those who understood, the tempest that burst later on, in that private office, whose secret, shade-hung door was never used. The other members of the company were wholly indifferent as to whether the interloper sank or swam. Jim Roberts stood afar off, and watched with burning, eager eyes every movement the young girl made, and his swift anticipation of her slightest wish soon attracted attention and comment; and one day some fellow said: "I believe Jim's gone back on Thrall, at last, and has taken a new master." "No," replied Joseph Grant, "you mean a new mistress!" and this exquisite joke almost strangled maker and hearer with laughter.