But Laura, preoccupied with looking for the Cresslers, hardly listened. Aunt Wess', whose count was confused by all these figures murmured just behind her, began over again, her lips silently forming the words, "sixty-one, sixty-two, and two is sixty-four." Behind them the voice continued: "They say Porteous will peg the market at twenty-six." "Well he ought to. Corn is worth that." "Never saw such a call for margins in my life. Some of the houses called eight cents." Page turned to Mrs. Wessels: "By the way, Aunt Wess'; look at that man there by the box office window, the one with his back towards us, the one with his hands in his overcoat pockets. Isn't that Mr. Jadwin? The gentleman we are going to meet to-night. See who I mean?" "Who? Mr. Jadwin? I don't know. I don't know, child. I never saw him, you know." "Well I think it is he," continued Page. "He was to be with our party to-night. I heard Mrs. Cressler say she would ask him. That's Mr. Jadwin, I'm sure. He's waiting for them, too." "Oh, then ask him about it, Page," exclaimed Laura. "We're missing everything." But Page shook her head: "I only met him once, ages ago; he wouldn't know me. It was at the Cresslers, and we just said 'How do you do.' And then maybe it isn't Mr. Jadwin." "Oh, I wouldn't bother, girls," said Mrs. Wessels. "It's all right. They'll be here in a minute. I don't believe the curtain has gone up yet." But the man of whom they spoke turned around at the moment and cast a glance about the vestibule. They saw a gentleman of an indeterminate age--judged by his face he might as well have been forty as thirty-five. A heavy mustache touched with grey covered his lips. The eyes were twinkling and good-tempered. Between his teeth he held an unlighted cigar. "It is Mr. Jadwin," murmured Page, looking quickly away. "But he don't recognise me." Laura also averted her eyes. "Well, why not go right up to him and introduce ourself, or recall yourself to him?" she hazarded. "Oh, Laura, I couldn't," gasped Page. "I wouldn't for worlds." "Couldn't she, Aunt Wess'?" appealed Laura. "Wouldn't it be all right?" But Mrs. Wessels, ignoring forms and customs, was helpless. Again she withdrew from any responsibility in the matter. "I don't know anything about it," she answered. "But Page oughtn't to be bold." "Oh, bother; it isn't that," protested Page. "But it's just because--I don't know, I don't want to--Laura, I should just die," she exclaimed with abrupt irrelevance, "and besides, how would that help any?" she added. "Well, we're just going to miss it all," declared Laura decisively. There were actual tears in her eyes. "And I had looked forward to it so." "Well," hazarded Aunt Wess', "you girls can do just as you please. Only I wouldn't be bold." "Well, would it be bold if Page, or if--if I were to speak to him? We're going to meet him anyways in just a few minutes."