“Born that way,” tritely contributed Dolorez. “One doesn’t have to learn—talent.” “I suppose not. But how wonderful it is. Why was not I born that way, as you say? Think what talent would mean to me?” this with a sigh. “Oh, come, Molly,” and Dolorez wrapt her arm more tightly around the velvet cloak. “You have talent. What about all that money we are going to make?” “Hush, Dol! The girls passing might hear you.” “What if they did?” “Oh, I wouldn’t for the world!” “Pray, why not?” with a show of indignation. “We never talk of making money at Wellington,” said Marian, when a group of passing girls faded out of earshot. “I don’t see why not. I am sure less important things are talked of,” persisted the tantalizing Dolorez. “But, Dol, you don’t seem to understand. We all have a rating here, and we could not get here without it. We are not in the money-making class—not that such are inferior to us,” Marian hastened to add, “but because our social standing is supposed to be fixed outside of trade.” A grating, mocking laugh followed this explanation. Evidently Dolorez Vincez had no such notion of correct social standing. She was plainly getting on Marian’s nerves. “I hope we will not get into trouble on account of to-night’s affair,” Marian said. “I really begin to fear trouble,” she sighed again. Another mocking titter answered this. “Good thing then, Molly, that you have me to fall back on. Cold feet are very unhealthy.” Even the callous Marian shrank away from that. Dolorez was forgetting herself and “reverting to type,” as Marian expressed it. Jane and Judith talked little, but thought much. They had detached themselves from the more noisy element, with a determination to get Helen and escort her safely to her little house with Dickey, and Weasie; this was their ulterior motive; they also wanted quiet. Judith was strong for Helen, and her enthusiasm grew as the moments passed. They waited for some time at the stage door, ran around to all other doors (Jane did, Judith still limped) yet Helen had not been discovered. Just now Jane was peeping in a window, through which a torn shade allowed a view of the interior. This was the annex used for dressing. “Where can she be?” asked Jane again. “Didn’t Dickey see her?” questioned Judith. “Not since she left the stage door. She said she was going over here to get her things.” “May be home in bed by now. Good sense if she is.” “I hardly think so. Wait! I’ll slip in through the window. The door is locked.” Judith resigned herself to an old stump while Jane “slipped in.” She waited some moments then knocked for Jane. “Can’t lose her as well,” commented the tired junior. “Jane, why don’t you come along?” she called lightly. Then Jane opened the door. She had an arm around a shrinking little form, that even under the heavy cloak could be seen to tremble.