Every now and then, chinks of daylight came in from lifted blinds, damaging the looks of the tenor’s complexion considerably, and the German villain was getting hoarse, and the ballet refused to repeat the “butterfly” dance, and the student enthusiasm was beginning to flag. At last, however, the _finale_ came. The tenor fell happily, if a trifle heavily, into the arms of the barytone, whose operatic _raison-d’être_ had up to that moment been rather obscure, the German villain gave a last gasp, and the chorus came out firm and strong on the pretty refrain, and then everybody got up and walked about, and the men introduced their friends to the young women with them, and everybody said it was a great success, if a trifle warm, and then they all went home and said it wasn’t as good as “last year’s.” Miss Elise Ronald and her chaperon and party stood near the door, talking to several men, and waiting for the tenor, who was a particular friend and who had invited them over. It seemed to them that he was a great while making his appearance, and they were very anxious to know what he was doing. They would have been much shocked if they had known. Mr. Perry Cunningham was swearing. In his frantic hurry to get out of the extraordinary muslin dress and blond wig, and wash the paint and mongolian and pearl powder off his face, everything seemed to have gone wrong. To add to the excitement and worry his “dresser” had misplaced some of his things, and the stage-manager was trying to buttonhole him to talk business. The chaperon, who was tired standing, said she would walk on with the rest, and that Miss Ronald would please follow the moment Mr. Cunningham arrived. So the girl said “yes” very obediently, and was left standing, talking with her brother and a youthful freshman who had asked to be presented. As time passed and no Mr. Perry Cunningham appeared, Miss Ronald delicately hinted to her brother that he had best hunt him up and tell him that she was waiting; but that amiable youth, with delightful optimism, assured his sister warmly that “Cunningham would soon be out of his fancy togs and would turn up all right,” and disappeared in the direction of Hemenway. It was only a short while later that Mr. Cunningham did come up, breathless and profusely apologetic, and the freshman with rare discreetness, divining that his presence was not absolutely necessary, bowed and moved off. “Awfully sorry, Miss Ronald,” gasped Cunningham, “’spect I kept you waitin’ an awful time. That--that ‘dresser’ of mine put half my things with another fellow’s and I had a time getting them straight.” Miss Ronald said it did not matter and that the chaperon had gone on with the rest, and that they were to catch up.