She walked off jauntily, her high heels clicking on the boards, a costly plume streaming over her left ear. The lessee of the Pall Mall Theater said nothing. He was mildly amused. He stood in the dark at the back of the dress circle complacently regarding his theatrical seraglio. All the girls were pretty, or if not pretty, showy. Some had been selected for their figures, some for their faces, some for both. No duchess, not even a fashionable duchess, was arrayed like one of these. Solomon in all his glory might perhaps have competed with them, but not the lilies of the field. Presently De Freyne’s gimlet eyes picked out Maggy and Alexandra. Their appearance disturbed his equanimity. He watched them attentively for ten minutes or so, at the end of which period the tired stage-manager dismissed the chorus for the morning. De Freyne’s authoritative voice again made itself heard. "Miss Delamere and Miss Hersey. Step up to my room before you go, please. I want to speak to you." The girls exchanged scared glances. A special interview with De Freyne was sufficiently unusual to fill them with dismay. He was not in the habit of detaining members of his chorus for the fun of the thing. They groped their way along dim, soft-carpeted passages to the front of the house and entered the managerial office. De Freyne was blunt to a degree. He wasted no time. "You two girls have got to make more of a show," he told them. "I can’t have shabby dresses at the Pall Mall." Alexandra was too taken aback by this curt rebuke to make any reply; but Maggy lost her temper. "Meaning flash clothes and jewelry?" she bit out. "How do you expect us to do it on thirty-five shillings a week, Mr. De Freyne?" "I’m not interested in your resources," was De Freyne’s cold answer. "You ought to be. You ought to get a pencil and slate and write down the cost of lodgings, food, boots, and all the rest of it, and figure out how little we’ve got left to buy clothes with—unless we don’t care who buys them for us. _We’re_ not that sort—not yet." "You must look smarter," reiterated De Freyne, showing no resentment at this tirade. "You silly creatures, don’t you want to attract attention?" "We’ll attract attention on the night. Don’t worry," said Maggy. She was afraid of De Freyne, but she did not let her voice show it. "That’s all very well, but you know the unwritten clause of my agreement with you all. The ladies of my chorus have got to be dressed decently off the stage as well as on.... Anyhow, there it is. Take it or leave it." He dismissed them with a nod. Neither said anything until they had passed out of the stage-door and were in the street. "That means new clothes," said Alexandra in a tone of deep depression. "Or Dick Whittington!" Maggy rejoined dryly. "Turn and turn again—our dresses. I’ll have a go at yours to-night, Lexie. Look, there’s Mortimer and her boy."