There was unanimous disapproval of this state of affairs on the part of her parents and her manager. It was difficult to tell which was the angrier. The Bryces accused Isabelle, but for once she was innocent. She had no idea how the reports started. She had talked to nobody. Miss Watts corroborated this statement. Neither of them knew when the artist made the sketch of her, and they never supposed that the photographers were taking her picture. Cartel was furious. It was not in his plans at all to let this youngster take the middle of his stage on the occasion of his New York opening. He would have dismissed her at once, had the newspaper talk not gone so far. As it was he joined her parents heartily in a determined effort to shut them off. But it couldn't be done. Isabelle had caught the public eye; she was a marked personality, and editors played her up big. Secretly she triumphed. It was only the beginning in the inevitable recognition of her greatness. It strengthened her belief that she was of the elect, and she rarely ever thought of the "Mary" part with which she was actually to prove herself, but she hurled herself into the development of the other Mary, which should have been hers, by all the laws of right. The two creatures merged--were one. Once or twice at rehearsal, aroused by her cue from some wonderful scene where Mary held the spotlight, she faltered for a second for those barren lines of the real Mary. "What's the matter with you, Miss Bryce? Keep your mind on what you're doing," warned Jenkins. She smiled at him. Poor fool! In a few weeks he would be bragging that he stage-managed her first appearance. She could afford to be patient with his bad temper, now. Dress rehearsal was called and became a fevered memory. The day of the opening Isabelle spent quietly at home, except for a ride in the Park. She was to rest, and have her supper in her sitting room. Wally came in, in the midst of her repast, and fussed about her room. "Aren't you nervous?" he inquired. "Oh, no." "I am. I'm so nervous I could scream!" he exploded. "I hate all this notoriety. They say the house will be packed." "We always like a full house," she said, serenely. "Suppose you flunk it!" "But I won't!"--promptly. He looked at her uncomprehendingly. "If you could only be kept in a cage, in the cellar!" She laughed gaily at that. "Poor old Wally! Don't fret. You'll be very proud of me some day." Max floated in. "I thought I heard laughter." "You did," Isabelle replied. "Are you cool enough to laugh?" "Quite. Wally is the only nervous one. Who is coming to dinner, Max?" "Eighteen people. Christiansen for one." "Oh, good!" "When do you go to the theatre?" "Seven." "Come along, Wally, she ought to rest. For all our sakes, Isabelle, keep your head and don't make a fool of yourself." "Much obliged," said Isabelle. "I take it you are wishing me luck." Wally kissed her cheek, and they went out.