At half-past eight Angelina had not appeared. Lucian proposed going home. Martine thought she ought to find Angelina to learn if anything serious had happened. Some of the boys in the front seats scuffled angrily. The hall was neither well heated, nor well lit. Every one was uncomfortable. "I think that we really ought to go home," whispered Priscilla, half-timidly, to Lucian. But just at this moment the curtain was pushed aside, and Angelina appeared in the centre of the stage. In her pink satin gown with its tawdry trimmings at neck and sleeves, she looked "blacker and skinnier than ever," as Lucian put it. Just behind her walked a man who stumbled over her train, and then with a bow began to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is most unfortunate that this lady and I may not be able to give our entertainment as advertised." Hisses from the front soon interrupted the speaker. "What has he to do with it?" Lucian looked again at the poster where "Mr. Smithkins, accompanist" appeared in small letters at the bottom. Mr. Smithkins resumed his speech: "The fact is there's been some misunderstanding with the owner of this hall, who refuses to let us proceed until the rent has been paid in advance." "Yes, every cent of it," and a stout woman with a red face and a bonnet trimmed with purple flowers pushed her way from behind. Angelina waved a large red fan nervously, but otherwise did not appear discomposed. She was at least the centre of the stage and although the audience was small, all eyes were certainly fixed on her. The eloquence of the stout lady quite drowned the words of Mr. Smithkins, making vain efforts to give his version of the situation. But after the hubbub had subsided, it was fairly clear to those present that Angelina had failed to pay the fifteen dollars she had promised in advance for the hall. Moreover, it was even clearer that Mrs. Stinton, the owner of the building, meant not only to stop the entertainment, but also to prevent Angelina's "skipping," without giving her her due. "Will they arrest her?" asked Priscilla, anxiously. "Oh, no, of course not; Angelina must pay the money." "But you heard Mr. Smithkins say that she had been disappointed in the sale of tickets, and hadn't a cent even to pay him, and if he could afford to wait, Mrs. Stinton ought to be able to wait too." "Give us a song or a pome," called a voice from the rear of the hall. The boys, who had been lounging at the door, were now inside. Lucian and Robert rose from their seats. "Excuse us for a moment," said the latter to Martine as the two made their way out into the aisle.