Scene-shifters, to whom every encore is a knell, demolished whole kingdoms at a lunge, half a hundred satin slippers flashed up a spiral staircase to chorus dressing-rooms, the Red Widow flung the trail of the gown she had on--so carelessly dragged across the tarpaulin terra firma of Bungel--across one bare arm and darted through the door with a red star painted on the panel. Her dressing-room, hung in vivid chintz, with a canopied table replacing the make-up shelf, and a passing show of signed photographs tacked along the wall, was as fantastic as Gnomes' Cave. A wildness of chiffon and sleazy silk hung from the wall-hooks, a pair of gauze aeroplane wings hovered across a chair, and, atop a trunk, impertinent as a Pierette, the black pony was removing the gold star from her hair. "Warm house to-night, Del. I sent Sibbie across to the hotel with your flowers." "Yeh--best house yet." "But gee! it's a wonder he wouldn't give away kerosene." "Rotten stuff." "It made me so dizzy I nearly flopped like a seal in the pony prance. He must 'a' bought it by the keg." "I told him it was strong enough to run his new motor-boat. Gawd, ain't I tired! How'd the aeroplane song go, Ysobel?" "Swell! But leave it to Billy to hog your act every time. I seen him grab a laugh when the propellers was workin'." "Undo me, Ysobel? Why'd you let Sibbie go? Can't you let me get used to having a maid, hon'?" "Poor kid, you're dead, ain't you? But you gotta go with him to-night or he'll howl." Della lowered her beaded lashes over eyes that smarted, and raised her arms like Niobe entreating fate. "Sure, I gotta go. He's been bragging about this hundredth-night blow-out for a month." "Quit squirming, Del! Hold still, can't you?" "Five recalls on 'Let me die,' Ysobel." "You never went better." Della slid out of her gown and into a gold-colored kimono embroidered in black flying swans, and creamed off her make-up in long, even strokes. "Look, he wants me to wear that silver-fox coat and the cloth-of-silver gown. Honest, it's so heavy I nearly fainted in it the other night. Lots he cares!" "It'll be a swell blow, Del. The hundredth night he gave when Perfecta was starring was town talk. He don't stop at nothin'." "No, he don't stop at nothin'." "He gimme a look to-night when I came off from the prance. He'd gimme notice in a minute if he didn't need me. He knows that ballet would fall like a bride's biscuit without me." "Sure it would! He likes your work, hon'. I never pulled any strings for you, neither. He just seen your try-out and liked it swell." "Sure he did, but he's that jealous of you! He was dead sore when you brought me down here to dress with you. Gee, you're tired, ain't you, dearie?" "Dog-tired! That staircase waltz always does me up." "Lay your head down here a minute. Ain't that just life, though? Here we are kicking just like a year ago in Fallows's 'Neatly Furnished.'"