While she was waiting to be noticed, the door of the hall bedroom opened and from it issued two very mannish-looking women, very tightly dressed, and wearing white collars and cuffs. After them came a portly lady of about forty-five, light-haired, sharp-eyed, and evidently good-natured. At least she was smiling. "Now, don't forget about that," said one of the mannish women. "I won't," said the portly woman. "Let's see," she added, "where are you the first week in February?" "Pittsburg," said the woman. "I'll write you there." "All right," said the other, and the two passed out. Instantly the portly lady's face became exceedingly sober and shrewd. She turned about and fixed on Carrie a very searching eye. "Well," she said, "young woman, what can I do for you?" "Are you Mrs. Bermudez?" "Yes." "Well," said Carrie, hesitating how to begin, "do you get places for persons upon the stage?" "Yes." "Could you get me one?" "Have you ever had any experience?" "A very little," said Carrie. "Whom did you play with?" "Oh, with no one," said Carrie. "It was just a show gotten----" "Oh, I see," said the woman, interrupting her. "No, I don't know of anything now." Carrie's countenance fell. "You want to get some New York experience," concluded the affable Mrs. Bermudez. "We'll take your name, though." Carrie stood looking while the lady retired to her office. "What is your address?" inquired a young lady behind the counter, taking up the curtailed conversation. "Mrs. George Wheeler," said Carrie, moving over to where she was writing. The woman wrote her address in full and then allowed her to depart at her leisure. She encountered a very similar experience in the office of Mr. Jenks, only he varied it by saying at the close: "If you could play at some local house, or had a programme with your name on it, I might do something." In the third place the individual asked: "What sort of work do you want to do?" "What do you mean?" said Carrie. "Well, do you want to get in a comedy or on the vaudeville stage or in the chorus?" "Oh, I'd like to get a part in a play," said Carrie. "Well," said the man, "it'll cost you something to do that." "How much?" said Carrie, who, ridiculous as it may seem, had not thought of this before. "Well, that's for you to say," he answered shrewdly. Carrie looked at him curiously. She hardly knew how to continue the inquiry. "Could you get me a part if I paid?" "If we didn't you'd get your money back." "Oh," she said. The agent saw he was dealing with an inexperienced soul, and continued accordingly. "You'd want to deposit fifty dollars, any way. No agent would trouble about you for less than that." Carrie saw a light. "Thank you," she said. "I'll think about it." She started to go, and then bethought herself. "How soon would I get a place?" she asked.