"That’s Mr. Lancaster," whispered Liss excitedly. "He’s the producer. We are all frightened to death of him. He’s a wonder!" "Miss Lane’s song cannot be cut," continued the wonder, "and it cannot be transferred elsewhere; so you must lump it! Now, Miss St. Leger, come on, please, and try your ’Plum and Apple’ duet with Mr. Ames." Miss St. Leger, the leading lady, was standing in the wings. Her face was round and childish; her eyes were brown and pathetic; her whole appearance suggested timidity and helplessness. Hearing her name called, she walked obediently down to the footlights, favoured the producer with a dazzling smile, and began: "Say, listen, Mr. Lancaster! I got a kick coming too! That duet I am putting over with Mr. Ames in the Second Act of the present show is practically a solo! When we started in singing it, way back in last fall, it was a duet, I’ll allow. But somehow I got a kind of crowded feeling, now. I don’t seem to belong in that duet when Mr. Ames is around. And I want to say right here that I am not going to stand for that kind of rough stuff any more!" By this time the languid chorus were sitting straight up on their chairs. The scattered figures in the auditorium had ceased their muttered incantations, and were leaning forward, all ears. The pacific Phil Kay was squirming in his seat. Marjorie and Liss gripped hands ecstatically; the ecclesiastical atmosphere had evaporated. "I understand team work," continued the ethereal Miss St. Leger, "as well as any artist; and you won’t ever find me stepping on any other folks’ laughs or business. But one thing I will not do, and that is feed fat to a dub comedian all the time—especially a guy that’s too fat already!" There was a roar of laughter from stage and stalls. Even the austere Lancaster grinned sardonically. Mr. Tubby Ames, gaping like a stranded fish, surrendered abjectly, as was his invariable custom when firmly handled. "All right," he said, with a pathetic smile. "Carry on! Nobody loves a fat man! Chord, please!" _Said an Apple to a Plum;—_ _"Seeing how this War has come,_ _Join me in the stew-pan, do!"_ Miss St. Leger, flushed with victory, took her demoralised opponent in an affectionate embrace, and replied: _Said the Plum, "I guess I will!_ _I am fairly stony; still,_ _I will do my bit, like you!"_ "There’s Mr. Lee now," said Liss—"just by the stalls entrance. Let’s catch him!" Our two conspirators descended upon the great man. He proved to be much less formidable than Marjorie had feared.