"She wouldn't find it easy there. There's no stock company in Duluth; only the travelling companies come sometimes for a few nights. There's no bigger opportunity for her on the other side than on this. Besides, she wants the English stage. I wonder if you know anybody who could give her any introductions?" "I? Not a soul!" "I'm sorry to hear you say that," said Cheriton blankly; "I was counting on you some." Heriot looked at him. "You counted on _me_? For Heaven's sake, why?" "Well, I don't know many people over here to-day, you see; the fellows I used to knock against have died, gone to the Colonies--fizzled out. You were solid; and you were a swell, with connections and all that. I understand the stage has become very fashionable in London--I thought you might meet actor-managers at dinners and things. That was the idea; I daresay it was very stupid, but I had it. I mentioned your name to Mamie as soon as it was settled we should come. However, we'll fix the matter somehow." "I'm sorry to prove a disappointment," said Heriot. "Tell your daughter so for me. I'd do what you want with pleasure, if I were able. You know that, I'm sure?" "Oh, I know that," said Cheriton; "it can't be helped. Yes, I'll tell her. She _will_ be disappointed, of course; she understands how difficult the thing is without influence, and I've talked about you a lot." "Do you think you were wise to--to----" "Oh, it was a mistake as it turns out!" "I don't mean that only. I mean, do you think you were wise to encourage her hopes in such a direction at all? Frankly, if _I_ had a daughter---- Forgive me for speaking plainly." "My dear fellow! your daughter and mine!--their paths would be as wide apart as the poles. And you don't know Mamie!" "At all events I know that the stage is more overcrowded every year. Most girls are stage-struck at some time or other; and there are hundreds of actresses who can't earn bread-and-cheese. A man I know has his type-writing done by a woman who used to be on the stage. She played the best parts in the country, I believe, and, I daresay, nursed the expectation of becoming a Bernhardt. She gets a pound a week in his office, he tells me, and was thankful to obtain the post." "Mamie is bound to come to the front. She's got it--she's an artist born. I tell you, I should be brutal to stand in the way of her career; the girl is pining, really pining, for distinction! When you've talked to her you'll change your views." "Perhaps," said Heriot, as the shortest way of ending the discussion; "very likely I'm wrong." The budding genius bored him. "Mind you explain to the young lady that my inability, and not my will, refuses, at any rate." "That's all right," declared Cheriton, getting up. "I told her I was coming round to see if it was you." He laughed. "I bet she's picturing me coming back with a bushel of letters of introduction from you by now! Well, I must be going; it's getting late."