The most of Romeo's delicate finery hung about on hooks; the splendor of his waving, golden-brown locks graced a wooden block standing on the dressing-shelf; his cloak and cap and sword were piled in a pell-mell heap; his dainty shoes were most anywhere; while everywhere were cigarettes--damp, spoiled, but unlighted, because of his own strict rule against smoking in the dressing-rooms, and the man himself, bending over the marble basin in that frenzy of soapy lather, without which the male countenance may not be considered cleansed, answered from its midst: "I'm not sic'ing you on anyone!" "That's queer! There was a time when I was often sent for, to discuss an important 'set,' or listen to some troublesome or involved scene, or was sent to libraries to root out notes for your information, but Lord! Lord! that was long ago! The stage-manager is your counsellor now, but I can still do all those hateful services that pass under the general term of 'dirty-work.' Whenever a request is to be refused; whenever a discharge is to be made; whenever a furious woman is to be faced--that a scene may be prevented at the theatre--I am summoned, and the damned funny part of it is, I come and accept my orders and carry them out; but even you can hardly expect me to enjoy the work of getting you out of every scrape." "You were not called upon in the Manice matter," Thrall somewhat sullenly remarked from the folds of a towel. "N--o!" assented Roberts, regretfully. "I should have enjoyed handing in her dismissal. But go ahead with your orders! The job must be pretty tough, judging from the way you hang fire in naming it." Thrall turned, and his face startled Roberts. It was so pale, so drawn, so anxious, he seemed to have washed away all its youth and pride and brightness, along with the grease paint and the rouge, in the basin of soapy water. He turned his troubled eyes in silent reproach upon the speaker, who asked, in a more respectful tone: "Well, what is it?" "It is," said Thrall, turning to the shelf and taking up a brush, which he began to use hurriedly upon his hair, "it's the child, Jim--the Princess! She--well, she's had a blow. The moment I'm out of here I'll run against some of the boys from the papers, then I'll have to see the Missus home--and stay there. And, Jim, those two women are all alone in that house, and should the child go to pieces, and need a doctor's care----" Jim muttered an oath. "As bad as that?" he asked, fiercely. "Didn't she know?"