"Yes; but it seems sudden. I should have to learn the part." "All told there are not more than twenty lines, and you won't come on till the second act. You've spoken pieces, haven't you?" "Yes, and I like it." "I was sure of it. Then you accept?" "If you think I can do it, and will tell me exactly what to do." "Come round at once to the stage entrance. I will give you your lines and tell you the business. We'll speak about terms later." As Bert followed Orville round to the stage door he asked himself whether he was not acting foolishly in accepting, at such short notice, a position to which he was entirely unaccustomed. If he had not liked declamation, and felt moderately self-possessed before an audience, he would have promptly refused. As it was, the prospect, while it somewhat daunted, also pleased him. Besides, he saw that, though he might not be able to fill the place of Bob Hazleton, it was imperatively necessary that the part should be taken by some one, and there was no time to lose in hunting up another boy. If he did poorly, he could limit his engagement to one evening. He was not at home behind the scenes, and at the outset came near tumbling through a trap door. He followed Orville to the general dressing-room, where the manager assisted him to attire himself in the costume provided for the newsboy. It is needless to say that it was not of a costly description, and would have been dear at a dollar and a half. "I'll dress you first, and give you the lines afterward." In five minutes Bert surveyed himself in a cracked mirror, and wondered if he were the same boy. Orville ruffled up his hair, taught him the free and easy walk of the typical newsboy, briefly instructed him in the "business" of the part, and then gave him his lines to commit. "Read them to me," he said. "I want to see if you've caught the spirit of the part." Of course Bert needed a little coaching, but "caught on," as Orville expressed it, with remarkable quickness. After a few minutes' rehearsal, his teacher said: "You'll do; that is, if you don't get rattled." "What's that?" "Get an attack of stage fright, and forget your lines." "I won't do that," said Bert confidently. "Then you'll have no trouble. Now, stay here till you get a summons from the call boy. I must make up for my part, though I don't appear, either, till the second act. Remember that we rely upon you." "I'll get through," said Bert confidently. By this time our hero looked forward eagerly to the moment when he would appear on the stage. He felt excited, and yearned to distinguish himself. He wanted to justify the stage manager's hasty, and, it must be confessed, rather imprudent, choice.