"We can make room for you, girlie," he announced paternally, "and"—with a glance at Marjorie’s face and figure—"a hundred more like you, _if_ they can be found, which I doubt!" He patted her shoulder. "Now—where will you fit in? Let me think! You are too big to go prancing about the stage with Baby Lyle, and the other little people. Your life’s work is to stand well down stage in a stunning frock, and fill the eye! Take her along to Mr. Lancaster, Baby, and say I sent you. I must be off." "I ought to tell you," said Marjorie, "that I may find matinées a difficulty. I am working at a canteen. I have only one free afternoon a week." "That will do," said Mr. Lee. "I believe in helping girls who are doing war work. I’m a special constable myself. Not bad for an old man of fifty-four, eh? But we all try to do something here. Now, run along to Lancaster, girls! I have to report for duty at Vine Street at three o’clock." With a gracious smile, Mr. Lee disappeared through the stalls entrance. Liss squeezed Marjorie’s hand excitedly. "My dear, you have made a _tremendous_ hit with him! He can be horribly grumpy when he likes. Come and be introduced to Lancaster." The producer was found dismissing the rehearsal of principals. The plum and apple had become jam in the last verse, so both romance and patriotism were satisfied. "Very good," he said. "It all goes all right now, except the dance. Mr. Kosky will take care of that." He raised his voice. "Principals, same time to-morrow! Good morning, Miss St. Leger! Good morning, Tubby, old man!" His voice boomed louder. "Now then, chorus ladies and chorus gentlemen, please!" The damosels round the stage laid down their khaki socks, hitched up their own stockings, and gathered in groups in the wings. Simultaneously a procession of six gentlemen appeared from the direction of the stage-door, extinguishing cigarettes. Liss hurriedly introduced Marjorie. Lancaster shook hands. "I think we can find a place for you in the show," he said, regarding her with critical approval. "Can you sing?" Marjorie, with a sudden and incongruous recollection of the harmonium at Netherby on Sunday afternoons, smiled, and replied that she could sing a little. "Mr. Kay will try your voice after rehearsal. No previous experience, I suppose?" "No." "It doesn’t matter. You had better sit and watch this rehearsal this morning, and try to learn our language. Baby, my dear, run along and get into your place." Liss, who appeared to be the _enfant gâté_ of the establishment, scampered away, and presently appeared among the chattering throng on the prompt side. Mr. Lancaster clapped his hands. There was silence.