Joe wheeled and gathering his coat neatly about his waist walked across the room with a mincing imitation of Sybil’s gait. It was so well done that Bassett could not contain his laughter. Encouraged, the boy assumed a combative attitude, his face aflame with startled anger, and striking out, at imaginary opponents, shouted: “‘Why there’s for thee, and there and there and there. Are all the people mad?’” Then as suddenly melted to a lover’s tone and looking ardently at Anne said: “‘If it be thus to dream then let me sleep.’” “Oh, he _could_ play it,” she exclaimed, and Bassett weakened before the pleading in her eyes. He understood how to manage Joe, he could keep him in order. The boy was afraid of him anyway, and by this time knew that his future lay pretty well in Bassett’s hands. If there was anything Anne wanted that was within his gift there could be no question about its being hers. She was very sweet, murmuring her thanks as she went with him to the door and assurances that Joe would acquit himself well. Bassett hardly heard what she said, looking into her dark eyes, feeling the soft farewell pressure of her hand. Joe had left the sitting-room when she went back there and she supposed he had gone to bed. But presently he came in, his hat on again and said he was going out. She was surprised, it was past eleven, but he swung about looking for his cane, saying it was too hot to sleep. She tried to detain him with remarks about the new work. He answered shortly as was his wont with her, treating it as a small matter, nothing to get excited about--also a familiar pose. But she noticed under his nonchalance a repressed satisfaction, the glow of an inner elation in his eyes. I THE performance was over and the audience was dispersing. Gull Island, colored to a chromo brightness by the declining sun, had not showed so animated an aspect since the reception for the Spanish ambassador last July. People in pale-tinted summer clothes were trailing across from the open-air theater and massing in a group as gay as a flower garden at the dock. Some of them had gone into the house, taken the chance to have a look at it--when the Driscolls were “in residence” you couldn’t so much as put your foot on the rocks round the shore. Others lingered, having a farewell word with the actors, congratulating them--it was the right thing to do and they deserved it. The committee was very affable, shaking hands with Mr. Bassett the director and Miss Saunders the star, who, in her page’s dress with the paint still on her face, looked tired, poor girl, but was so sweet and unassuming.