"Great guns, how that hunch works!" exclaimed the well-known producer, as he sank into his chair from positive weakness. "You take in this situation, don't you?" he demanded with a quick recovery. "I think I do," answered Miss Lindsey. Then she lifted her big black eyes, in which shone the psychic hunger, though that of the body had been appeased. "I've got to make good, Mr. Vandeford, and I'll do anything you want me to. I've got every right--to live at the Y. W. C. A., and a right to hand food to--to that child in there. You can trust me." "I believe I can," Mr. Vandeford answered, after looking at her keenly for a few seconds with the glance with which he had picked his winners or failures in the human comedy for many experienced years. "Stop your dining-room work at the nunnery and see that she has a good time, just you and she together. I'll send you matinee tickets to shows I want her to see, and Mr. Farraday and I'll look after the other amusement. I want her to meet only the people I introduce her to, and the Y. W. C. A. is the best place to live in New York--for her. Understand?" "Yes." "Find out how much money she has." "I know now; she told me. She's got a ticket home, good until October first, and a hundred dollars to last until--until the royalties come in from the play. Those royalties have got to come in, too, or her grandfather--" Miss Lindsey's voice was positively belligerent as she began to put the situation up to Mr. Vandeford, whose heart, as that of a theatrical manager, she felt, must be hard by tradition. "Yes, I know all about that. You get what money you want from Mr. Meyers out there, and fool her about what things cost as much as you can--until the royalties come in. Let me know when things don't run smoothly for the two of you. Of course, this is worth money to you and--" "I don't want money for--for--looking after her." "How much did Mr. Farraday offer you for your part?" "He doubled it when he saw that I was--was hungry, but I know a hundred and twenty-five is right and that's all I expect." "The one-fifty stands. If all goes well I'll see you get your chance on Broadway this winter. We understand each other now; don't we?" "Yes." "Then get the hat quest going. I'm busy." "Five dollars is her outside limit." "Can't you juggle?" "I'll try, but she's--well, you know what a girl like that is." "Go to it!" With which command Mr. Vandeford led the way into the outer office. A brief aside put the situation he had just adjusted into the willing ear of his co-producer, who beamed with satisfaction at the idea of the joint nesting of these first two theatrical experiences he had captured at the outset of his quest for adventure in the white lights. He immediately began counting Miss Lindsey's advance into her hand, thus giving Mr. Vandeford a word alone with his eminent author, beside Mr. Adolph Meyers's big window.