Etta admitted upon this that they had some good excuse for congratulating her. In the theatre she found it quite natural to listen to the girls' pleasant chatter and to put herself upon their level both as to Bohemian habits of life and odd views of the world. Away from the theatre, however, the Evelyn in her would assert itself. Despite her affectionate nature, she found herself not a little repelled by that very freedom of speech and act which seemed to her so delightful a thing upon the stage. She was too kind-hearted to show it, but her distaste would break out at intervals, especially in those quiet morning hours when the freshness of the day reproached the memories of the night with its garish scenes and its jingling melodies. To-day, especially, she would have given much to be alone to think upon it all and try to understand both what she had done and what the consequences might be. But the girls gave her no opportunity even for a moment's leisure. "You said we'd lunch at the Savoy, Etta----" "And you'd drive us in the Park afterwards----" "Aren't you really very rich, Etta? You must be, I'm sure. Do you know I have only got three shillings in the world and that must last me until salaries are paid." "I've worn this dress seven months," said Lucy, "and look at it. Who'll write nice things about me with my petticoat in rags? Well, I suppose what is to be is to be. I'm going to the Vaudeville in the Autumn and perhaps my ship will come in." "My dear children," said Etta kindly, "you know that I will always help you when I can, and you must let me help you to-day when I am happy--so happy," she added almost to herself, "that I do not believe it is real even now." They laughed at her quaint ideas and would have read the notices over again to her but for her emphatic protest. "No," she said, "we have so much to do; so much to think of. After all, what does it matter while the sun is shining?" CHAPTER V THE LETTER The sunny day, indeed, passed all too quickly. A splendid telegram, fifty words long, from the splendid Mr. Charles Izard set the seal of that great man's approval upon the verdict of the newspapers. "You have got right there," he wired, "the business follows. See me at four o'clock without fail...." "That means a long engagement," said the shrewd Dulcie, when she read the telegram. Lucy, prudent always, thought that Etta should have a gentleman to advise her. "Don't go to the theatre-lawyers," she said; "they always make love to you. If you had a gentleman friend, it would be nice to speak to him about it. Mr. Izard knows what he's got in his lucky bag. Now, don't you go to signing anything just because he asks you, dear. Many's the poor girl who's engaged herself when half the managers in London wanted her. I should hold my head very high if it were me. That's the only way with such people."