“Of course. Every hotel depends upon the repute of its patrons. A well-known actress like yourself,” and he bowed politely, while Carrie flushed, “draws attention to the hotel, and—although you may not believe it—patrons.” “Oh, yes,” returned Carrie, vacantly, trying to arrange this curious proposition in her mind. “Now,” continued Mr. Withers, swaying his derby hat softly and beating one of his polished shoes upon the floor, “I want to arrange, if possible, to have you come and stop at the Wellington. You need not trouble about terms. In fact, we need hardly discuss them. Anything will do for the summer—a mere figure—anything that you think you could afford to pay.” Carrie was about to interrupt, but he gave her no chance. “You can come to-day or to-morrow—the earlier the better—and we will give you your choice of nice, light, outside rooms—the very best we have.” “You’re very kind,” said Carrie, touched by the agent’s extreme affability. “I should like to come very much. I would want to pay what is right, however. I shouldn’t want to——” “You need not trouble about that at all,” interrupted Mr. Withers. “We can arrange that to your entire satisfaction at any time. If three dollars a day is satisfactory to you, it will be so to us. All you have to do is to pay that sum to the clerk at the end of the week or month, just as you wish, and he will give you a receipt for what the rooms would cost if charged for at our regular rates.” The speaker paused. “Suppose you come and look at the rooms,” he added. “I’d be glad to,” said Carrie, “but I have a rehearsal this morning.” “I did not mean at once,” he returned. “Any time will do. Would this afternoon be inconvenient?” “Not at all,” said Carrie. Suddenly she remembered Lola, who was out at the time. “I have a room-mate,” she added, “who will have to go wherever I do. I forgot about that.” “Oh, very well,” said Mr. Withers, blandly. “It is for you to say whom you want with you. As I say, all that can be arranged to suit yourself.” He bowed and backed toward the door. “At four, then, we may expect you?” “Yes,” said Carrie. “I will be there to show you,” and so Mr. Withers withdrew. After rehearsal Carrie informed Lola. “Did they really?” exclaimed the latter, thinking of the Wellington as a group of managers. “Isn’t that fine? Oh, jolly! It’s so swell. That’s where we dined that night we went with those two Cushing boys. Don’t you know?” “I remember,” said Carrie. “Oh, it’s as fine as it can be.” “We’d better be going up there,” observed Carrie later in the afternoon.