"Oh, I'm so sorry," interrupted Mazie, fearful from his manner that Huddesley was about to enter on some embarrassing details. "Better go down and ask my father for some whisky--he's in the dining-room--tell him I sent you. But what shall we do--oh, Mr. Carson?" The enslaved Chorus, who figured in a small part in "Mrs. Tankerville," approached; he was always hanging around whenever Mazie went on or left the stage, in hopes of a word. But the girl now saw him, to her surprise, in overcoat and hat. "You're not going?" she asked, with a pang of regret; she wished, momentarily, that she had been "nicer" to him. Whether a woman cares for a man or not, she never sees him leave her without dismay. "You're not going?" said Mazie, directing a troubled and wistful smile upon him. "Can't help it, Miss Pallinder," said Bob, warming to the very marrow at her glance. "I--I hate to awfully. But it's getting late, you know, and I've got to meet my sister; her train will be in about midnight." "Oh, it's not that yet." "Pretty near." "But, Mr. Carson, I don't know what we--I don't know what I shall do without you. I haven't anybody to go to but you. Such a pity about Mr. Johns, isn't it--his being taken sick, I mean--it's upset everything dreadfully. Here's Huddesley----" Huddesley explained volubly--"And if you, or somebody of the young gentlemen could just put on the clothes, Mr. Robert, the audience will never know the difference; they don't see anything but the body when they drag me out after Mr. Taylor's shot me. I've got a bad turn on my stomach and----" "All right," said Bob hastily. "Is that package the diamonds? They have to find 'em on you, don't they? Here, I'll do it--I guess I can make the train anyhow. Come along and get the costume off, Huddesley, you want to hurry." Mazie stopped him, with a hand on his arm. "Oh, Mr. Carson, we--I ought to give Huddesley something, oughtn't I? For coming this evening? It was very accommodating, you know, he isn't like a darky servant. What ought I to give him? Five dollars? Ten dollars?" she whispered, with a manner of special confidence that was like a caress to the young man. "Never mind, Ma--Miss Pallinder," he said, absurdly tremulous and excited. "I'll see about it--don't worry--it's like you to think of it--you're so--that is----" words forsook him. "I'll fix Huddesley, you know," he faltered, chafing privately at the limitations of etiquette and the English language. Mazie rewarded him with a long look, and walked off.