The operetta was to be sung in the Sanford Theatre, where the dress rehearsal had been held. Furious almost to tears at her inability to bring about the impossible, Mignon at last ordered her runabout and made sulky preparations to start for the theatre. The possession of an automobile gave her the advantage of being able to don her first act costume at home, but her really attractive appearance in the fanciful gown of the heartless step-sister afforded her no pleasure. She hooked it up pettishly, made a face at herself in the mirror of her dressing table, and, drawing her evening cloak about her, flounced downstairs to her runabout, completely out of humor with the world in general. She drove along recklessly, as was her custom, and when half way to the theatre narrowly missed running down a small, sturdy figure that was marching across the street. "Naughty old wagon," screamed a familiar voice after her. At sound of that piping voice, Mignon stopped her car and peered out. Trotting along the sidewalk a little to her rear was a small boy with a diminutive violin case tucked under his arm. Little Charlie Stevens had come forth once more to see the world. In a flash wicked inspiration came to Mignon. The Stevens child was running away again, but this time he had chosen an evening exactly to her liking. Slipping out of her car she ran toward the boy. "Why, good evening, little boy," she called pleasantly. "Where are _you_ going?" "I know you. You're a naughty girl!" observed Charlie with more truth than courtesy. He braced himself defiantly and regarded Mignon with patent disapproval. "I am so sorry you think so." Mignon affected a sadness which she was far from feeling at this unvarnished statement. "I was going to take you for a ride and buy you some ice cream." Charlie considered this astonishing offer in silence. He stared frowningly at Mignon. "Is it chok'lit ice cream?" he asked, eyeing her in open disbelief. "Of course it is. As much as you can eat." "All right. I want some. But you're a naughty girl, just the same. Mary said so." Mignon shrugged indifferently. She was not greatly concerned at either his or Mary's opinion of her. "Come on, if you want a ride," she urged.