He hurried a bit, for he knew that Claire Morrell was very exact in keeping her appointments, and that she might come in at any moment now, with her confounded stage-struck protégée, to whom he would never have given a thought, let alone an engagement, for he hated amateurs, had it not been that he had met the clever and witty, if ancient, Mrs. Van Camp, and knew her to be of the best old Dutch stock. Therefore, it would rather flatter his vanity to be able to exploit the name of her god-daughter as a member of his company, if only she might not be too heavy a load of awkward self-consciousness--if only she might be moderately good-looking. And then he set the picture down hard, with its long wire hooping, and coiling, like a live and very angry thing about it, and whistled, exclaiming aloud: "Oh, by Jove! I wonder if either of those bright and pretty girls the Morrell had with her last night might be the protégée? They were both charming, but how that dark one did light up when Morrell led the applause for my Queen Mab speech! But no such luck, I suppose!" And, man-fashion, he drew out his handkerchief to dust the small wingless Love on the pedestal between the draped curtains of a mock-window, whose long Holland shade really covered a very narrow door, spring locked and never used--never, one could readily understand that from the inconvenience of its approach, but Mr. Thrall carried the key. And out in Broadway Claire Morrell was saying: "It's so very tiring, this shopping; suppose, Miss Lawton, that we step in at the theatre and see if Mr. Thrall is there now, instead of making a special trip to-morrow. If he is in he will see us, if he has gone home we can cool off in the dark auditorium. What do you say, Miss Dorothy?" For Miss Morrell had kept her talk with the manager and her appointment a secret, feeling that Sybil would thus be more at her ease, more natural in manner, than she could possibly be if she knew she was being inspected or examined, like a servant seeking a new place. And now, as the sisters smilingly consented to her plan, she turned in between the big billboards that announced the week's run of "Romeo and Juliet," with the name of the lady star in very, very large letters and "supported by" in small type. Then the name of the gentleman who played Romeo appeared in letters two sizes smaller than those of the star, and lower down, in quite small type, one read: "Mr. Stewart Thrall as Mercutio." And Sybil tapped the letters with her parasol-tip, and said: "His performance was the best in the play. Why are his letters not the biggest?" And the actress laughed, as she answered: "Children always ask difficult questions. Wait till you're older, my dear. Perhaps this time next year all this mystery of type and printers' ink will be clear to your understanding. But you are right about the acting of Thrall; his Mercutio is the best of his time."