"I thought you would be. Well, I do feel a happy girl to-night." "And when is it to be?" said Jim, bending down and looking earnestly into her face. She flushed when he spoke to her, and immediately lowered her eyes. "I aint made up my mind quite yet," she said. "But you will?" he replied, in a voice full of solicitude. "I don't know. Would it please you if I did?" "I needn't say that it would," was the reply. "I think it would make me real happy." "Well, ef I thought that----" Louisa took her fan out of Jim Hardy's hand and began to toy with it in a somewhat affected manner. Then her expression changed to one of absolute passion. "I don't think there is anything in heaven above, or the earth beneath, I wouldn't do, Jim Hardy, even to please you for half an hour; to please you is the light of life to me. So, if you wish it, let it be--there! I can't say any more, can I?" "You can't; you have said enough," he replied gravely. "There is our call," he added; "we must go back. Are you cooler now?" "Much cooler, thanks to you." The call came a second time. Louisa hurried forward; Jim followed her. Neither of them noticed the listening girl behind the curtain. The next moment loud cheers filled the room as Hardy and Louisa took their places side by side in the front of the stage. Alison waited until the great uproar had subsided, then she slipped into the dressing room where she had gone on her arrival, put on her hat and jacket steadily and calmly, and went home. She had no intention now of waiting for Jim. She never meant to wait for Jim any more. He was false as no man had ever been false before. She would forget him, she would drive him out of her life. He had dared to come and talk of marriage to her when he really loved another girl; he had dared to give her words of tenderness when his heart was with Louisa Clay. "It is all over," whispered Alison quite quietly under her breath.