The girl had some stuff in her, he thought. "Certainly you shall walk on if you like, Miss Vincent; we can easily make room for one or two more," he answered. "But, understand, it means hard work; you will have to come to rehearsal and perhaps to wait about for hours, and when we begin to play you will have to come down every night, of course, and nothing must make you late or careless--ill or well you must be here. No excuses allowed; your work must come before everything else, and to begin with you will get a guinea a week. Young ladies are apt to think they have only to run on the stage to become actresses, but you will find that nothing is done without hard work and patient waiting, unless you are a genius; if you are, we shall discover it. We begin rehearsing at 11.30 to-day; you can wait, if you like." And so he dismissed her, realizing that he was a different person altogether in the theatre from the Dawson Farley of Mrs. Lakeman's drawing-room or the garden at Woodside Farm. Nevertheless, he had been interested by her visit. It was very odd, he thought, this girl coming from the atmosphere in which he had seen her last week to lonely lodgings in Westminster. Very odd altogether. Lucky for her that she had got into Mrs. Gilman's, a respectable house, and a nice woman. He had half a mind to telegraph the whole thing to Mrs. Lakeman, and suggest that she should invite Margaret to Scotland; it would be far better for her than staying in London; but, after all, it was no affair of his, and he disliked mixing up business and private matters. Still, when he wrote to Pitlochry, he made up his mind he would tell Mrs. Lakeman about Margaret; she was a clever, practical woman, and would know if anything ought to be done for the girl.