"If you do, Consuelo, dear," said Busby urbanely, "we'll ship you down in a service elevator, and see you get the operation, too. Now, no nonsense, girls. You know what that means." "What we've got to keep it out of the poipers? What, no publicity? Gee!" "None, now or after," said Busby firmly. All at once he looked up, astonished, perceiving Doré, who floated in at this moment like a golden bird. "Gwendolyn had the sneezes," said Adèle Vickers hastily. "This is her sister." "What's her name?" said Busby suspiciously, while the chorus girls, with their mountainous hats and sweeping feathers, their overloaded bodices and jeweled necks, studied with some concern the simple daring of this new arrival, uncertain and apprehensive. "Miss Baxter," said Miss Vickers in a low voice. "She's not a reporter?" said Busby, hesitating. "Honest to God, Buzzy," said Adèle Vickers vehemently. "She's on the stage, the legitimate--Doré Baxter, a friend of mine!" "I know her!" said Busby, suddenly enlightened by the full name, and going to her, he said: "Met you at a party of Bruce Gunther's, I believe, Miss Baxter." Doré, who thus found herself, to her vexation, sailing under her own colors, said, with a pleading look: "Don't give me away, will you? It's just a lark, and," she added lower, "don't call me Miss Baxter!" "A stage name, eh?" "Splendid one--Trixie Tennyson. Doesn't that sound like a head-liner?" she added confidentially, in the low tone in which the conversation had been conducted. Busby repeated the name, chuckling to himself, yielding to his sense of humor. "All right! Now, girls, come on!" "But what shall we call him?" "Call him anything you like ... after the soup!" said Busby, laughing. "Remember! he's here to be amused!... Have any of you girls changed your names since I saw you last?... No?... Then I know them!..." He told them off, counting with his fingers: "Adèle Vickers, Georgie Gwynne--it used to be Bronson last year--" "It never was!" exclaimed a petite Irish brunette, with a saucy smile and a roguish eye: "Baron--" "I'll give you a better one: Georgie Washington!" continued Busby. "Why not? Fine!... A press-agent would charge for that!... I see an inch of nose, a gray eye and a brown cheek under an avalanche of hat--must be Viola Pax!" "Violetta, please!" said a southern type with soft consonants. "To be sure!... to be sure!... Both are up-to-date, though!... Trixie Tennyson ... ah, there's a name!... Do you know who Tennyson was, little dears?... A great scientist who discovered the reason why brooks go on forever!" Adèle and Doré smiled, but the rest accepted the information. "Paula Stuart and Consuelo ... dear me! I never did know your last name, Consuelo, darling!" "Vincent! and cut out the guying!" said a fair buxom type, child of the Rialto. "Let's get a move on!" "Quite right!" said Busby, offering an arm to Adèle Vickers and Violetta Pax. "Follow me ... always!"