Letty Lane ruffled the pile of banknotes and without looking drew out two or three bills, putting them into the child’s hands. “Don’t you lose them; stuff them down; this will keep you and your father for a couple of years. Take care of it. You are quite rich now. Don’t get robbed.” The child tremblingly folded the notes and hid them among her rags. The tears of happiness were straggling over her face. She said finally, finding no place to stow away her riches, “I expect I’d best put them in daddy’s pocket.” And Dan came to her aid; taking the notes from her, he folded and put them inside the clothes of the old beggar. “Miss Lane,” said Higgins, who had come in, “it is time you went on.” “I’ll see your friends out of the theater,” Blair offered. And as he did so, for the first time she looked at him, and he saw the fever in her brilliant eyes. “Thanks awfully,” she accepted. “It is perfectly crazy to give them so much money at once. Will you look after it like a good boy and see something or other about them?” He thought of her, however, and caught up a great soft shawl from the chair, wrapped it around her tenderly, and she flitted out, Higgins after her, leaving the rest of the money scattered on her dressing-table. “Come along,” said Blair kindly to the two who stood awaiting his orders with the docility of the poor, the obedience of those who have no right to plan or suggest until told to move on. “Come, I’ll see you home.” And he didn’t leave them until he had taken them in a cab to their destination—until he had persuaded the girl to let him have the money, look after it for her, come to see her the next day and tell her what to do. Then he went back to the theater and stood up in the rear, for the house was crowded, to hear Letty sing. It was souvenir night; there were post-cards and little coral caps with feathers as _bonbonnières_. They called her out before the curtain a dozen times, and each time Dan wanted to cry “Mercy” for her. He felt as though this little act had established a friendship between them; and his hands clenched as he thought of Poniotowsky, and he tried to recall that he was an engaged man. He had an idea that Letty Lane was looking for him through the performance. She finished in a storm of applause, and flowers were strewn upon her, and Dan found himself, in spite of his resolution, going back into the wings. This time two or three cards were sent in. One by one he saw the visitors refused, and Dan, without any formality, himself knocked at Letty Lane’s small door, which Higgins opened, looked back over her shoulder to give his name to her mistress, and said to Dan confidently, “Wait, sir; just wait a bit.” Her lips were affable. And in a few moments, to Dan’s astonished delight, the actress herself appeared, a big scarf over her head and her body enveloped in her snowy cloak, and he understood with a leap of his heart that she had singled him out to take her home.