Many of the players were in the flaring passage. They had not begun to doff their costumes yet; they were lingering in groups, a tinselled, nerveless crowd with harassed eyes. Miss Vavasour sat crying on a clothes hamper; Miss Jinman was waiting weakly for her whisky. As it appeared, her gaze fell on the huddled girl; "Here, have half of this, child!" she said gently. The brunette with golden hair exclaimed, "No, no, take yours, Miss Jinman; Queenie can have half of mine!" Everybody kept casting anxious glances in the direction of the stage, where voices could be heard disputing. "Poor old Tat!" murmured Rosalind. Now Miss Lascelles, as we know, had had less than the majority to unhinge her, but so infectious was the atmosphere, so easily swayed are some of these "extraordinarily sensitive" people of the theatre, that as Rosalind's arm was slipped round her waist, she immediately burst into tears, and sobbed as if her heart would break. "Cheer up," said Rosalind. "It'll go all right after a few more rehearsals." "I shall be b-better directly," gulped Miss Lascelles. "D-don't mind me. I'm a fool, but I can't help it; I'm broke up!" "We're all of us broke up," groaned Miss Jinman. "Did you ever see such a house as it was? In all my experience I never saw anything like it! What were they saying as they came out? Do you think we shall go on, my dear?" "_I_ sha'n't be kept, anyhow," wailed Miss Vavasour. "Mr. Quisby's been bullying me as if it was all my fault. I shall be out of a shop again! And I did hope I was settled till the spring--I don't know what I shall do, I'm sure!" "Where is he?" inquired Rosalind. "That's him, quarrelling with Mr. Omee there," said Miss Lascelles. "Mr. Omee says he won't let the piece go on to-morrow night." "Not go on?" "They say he says so," put in the demi-blonde. "That's all gas--he'd have to shut the theatre; he won't do that." "If you ask _me_," said the low comedian, taking part in the conference gloomily, "it puts the kybosh on the tour. We may as well pack up our props, and git. There's no good health for _Miss Kiss-and-Tell_ after to-night's show." "Git?" demanded Miss Jinman, "Git where? I shall have my rights; I've got a contract." "Take it to your Uncle's!" said the low comedian. "See what he'll lend you on it. If you ask me, the Syndicate's a wrong 'un. If we strike it lucky, we'll get our fares; and if we don't strike it lucky, we can travel on our luggage. I see it sticking out a foot!" A shudder ran through the players. They gathered about him dumbly. "We can all claim a fortnight's salary in lieu of notice," asserted Miss Jinman, rallying. "That's the Law. It's the Rule of the Profession." The company perked up a little. They turned their eyes to Miss Jinman.