And actor as he was, the man turned suddenly to his desk to hide the color he knew was burning over his face, and the senseless delight that flashed through him at the words. Presently he asked if her friends permitted her to take this step. Being reassured on that point, he inquired if she had had any experience as an amateur. And when she replied "No!" with a sadly fallen countenance, he smilingly commented: "No tears are called for yet!" And Miss Morrell broke in with: "And no lessons in elocution has she had--no, not one!" "Thank God!" fervently exclaimed Thrall. "Decidedly, your case looks hopeful, Miss Lawton." After some further conversation, finding Sybil would be in town for a day or two, he asked permission to call on her at Mrs. Van Camp's home and let her know what his decision was. As he spoke he caught the swift expression of anxiety on Dorothy's face and followed her glance, and, noting the close attention Sybil was bestowing on a picture, knew she was hiding the tears of disappointment, of fear, and felt a throb of sympathy. Poor little soul! Had he not been just as impatient, just as sensitive--once? So, while Dorothy gathered up the fans and parcels, and Miss Morrell paused to place a candied violet between her lips, Stewart Thrall stepped close to Sybil's side, and said, very low: "Don't be distressed--you shall have the engagement. Only I don't know yet just how or where I can place you!" And the incredulous joy flashing through the tears, the tremulous smile on her lips, as she turned her face to him, made him exclaim, mentally: "Good God! If she could do but the half of that upon the stage!" Then, as they were ready to depart, ever punctually exact in the small courtesies, he placed himself at Miss Morrell's side and led the way to the vestibule, where a tall, shabby fellow was slouching before the box-office window, while young Barney could be plainly heard refusing to give him money without Mr. Thrall's order. Hearing advancing footsteps, the man turned a pale, liquor-soddened face toward them, and, seeing the ladies, he let go of the window-ledge he had clung to, removed his hat with a trembling hand, advanced hesitatingly, and attempted to address Thrall, who said, savagely: "Step aside! I'll speak to you presently!" And, as the poor wreck drew back, they passed on to the open front doors. And Claire Morrell raised mildly surprised eyes, and said: "Jim Roberts is still with you, then?" And Thrall, with a shrug of his shoulders, answered, flippantly: "Like the poor!" and bowed them out. CHAPTER XI THE DOUBLE BIRTHDAY