"Mr. Wyatt." said Mrs. Coppered,--and Duncan noticed that she had turned a little pale,--"Mrs. Penrose wired me news of all this only a few hours ago. She is half frantic at the idea that she must go on tomorrow afternoon and evening; yet the understudy is ill, and she felt it was too short notice to ask you to make a change now. But it occurred to me to come to see you about it. I want to ask you a favor. I want you to let me play Mrs. Penrose's part tomorrow afternoon and tomorrow night. I've played Mabel Vane a hundred times; it's a part I know very well," she went on quickly. "I--I am not in the least afraid that I can't take it. And then she can be with the little boy through the operation and afterward--he's only five, you know, at the unreasonable age when all children want their mothers! Can't that be arranged, Mr. Wyatt?" Duncan, holding a horrified breath, fixed his eyes, as he did, on the manager's face. He was relieved at the inflexible smile he saw there. "My dear lady," said Wyatt, kindly, "that is--absolutely--OUT of the question! Anything in reason I will be delighted to do for Penrose and Miss Archer--but you must surely realize that I can't do that!" "But wait!" said Mrs. Coppered, eagerly, not at all discouraged. "Don't say no yet! I AM an actress, Mr. Wyatt, or was one. I know the part thoroughly. And the circumstances--the circumstances are unusual, aren't they?" While she was speaking the manager was steadily shaking his head. "I have no doubt you could play the part," said he, "but I can't upset my whole company by substituting now. Tomorrow is going to be a big night. The house is completely sold out to the Masons--their convention week, you know. As it happens, there couldn't be a more inconvenient time. No, I can't consider it!" Mrs. Coppered smiled at him. She had a very winning smile. "It would mean a rehearsal; I suppose THAT would be inconvenient, to begin with," she said. "Exactly," said Wyatt. "Friday night. I can't ask my people to rehearse to-morrow." "But suppose you put it to them and they were all willing?" pursued the lady. "My dear lady, I tell you it's absolutely--" He made a goaded gesture. Then, making fierce little dashes and dots on his blotter with his pencil, and eying each one ferociously as he made it, he added irritably, but in a quieter tone: "You're an actress, eh? Where'd you get your experience?" "With various stock companies on the Pacific Coast," she answered readily. "My name was Margaret Charteris. I don't suppose you ever heard it?" "As it happens, I HAVE," he returned, surprised into interest. "You knew Joe Pitcher, of course. He spoke of you. I remember the name very well." "Professor Pitcher!" she exclaimed radiantly. "Of course I knew him--dear old man! Where is he--still there?" "Still there," he assented absently. "You married, I think?" "I am Mrs. Coppered now--Mrs. Carey Coppered," she said. The man gave her a suddenly awakened glance.