Anna turned weak and faint, and she wanted to laugh and cry in the same breath, but she gripped the arms of her chair, and clung fast to what was left of her poise. If Henry had a miracle to report, Anna must hear it. "It's a matter of interpretation," he went on, with his voice shaking for an instant. "And you're the interpreter. It came up so suddenly last week that I couldn't get hold of you. But I took a chance, anyway.... Does a lease count?" The lawyer looked very sober. "A lease?" "Yes. If I leased part of the theatre to somebody, would the income from that count?" During the resultant silence, Anna distinctly heard her own heart beating. She looked at Mr. Archer, and saw that his brows were drawn down, and that his eyes were distant. Fearfully, she hung on his reply. "That's a delicate question, Henry. You were supposed to make your profit from the operation of the theatre." Henry was tense. "I don't mean if I leased the _theatre_. I mean if I leased some _part_ of it--some part that wouldn't interfere with the show." Anna closed her eyes. Mr. Archer's brows had risen to normal. "Why, in that case, I should certainly say that the income would count, Henry. Let's see the lease?" Anna wished that Henry would come over to her, and hold her in his arms while Mr. Archer, with maddening deliberation, glanced through the long typewritten document--but Henry had turned his back, and was gazing out of the window. "Peter McClellan? What's _he_ want so much space for?" Henry made no response. There was a long hiatus, broken only by the rustling of the pages. "Just a minute, Henry. Some of this is all right--and some isn't. The space you mention is what you're using now for the--er--nursery, I take it. And the privilege of the lessee to enlarge the upper story at his own expense is all right." His brows had gone down again, and Anna shivered. "But even if you've got your whole rental in advance, you aren't entitled to claim all of it belongs to this year's income. As a matter of fact, you actually _earn_ a twenty-fourth of that whole payment every month for twenty-four months." Henry spoke over his shoulder. "You haven't read far enough." "Oh!" Mr. Archer laughed, but his voice was no lighter. "Why, how on earth did you persuade anybody to execute such an agreement as that?" Henry faced around. "Bob Standish engineered it. Told this chap as long as he paid in advance anyway, to get a bargain, it wouldn't make any difference to _him_, and it made a lot to me. Nine hundred and fifty a month for July and August and fifty a month for the next twenty-two months." "But my dear boy, you still don't _earn_ more than a twenty-fourth of the whole rental each month. That's ordinary book-keeping. I should have thought you'd have learned it. It makes no difference _when_ the lessee pays. All you can credit yourself in July and August is--"