It was nearly six o’clock and there was little light left. What there was, revealed snowy roads and slippery pavements. Ivy shivered and clung fast hold of Ralph’s hand as they made their way to the manager’s rooms, a red-headed porter, much resembling the shag-haired murderer in “Macbeth,” going on before them with a luggage truck. He paused at a high house in a particularly dingy street. The door was opened by a shrewd, hard-featured woman who, upon Ralph’s inquiry, told them that Mrs. Skoot was in, and ushered them upstairs to a room where the remains of dinner still lingered on the table, and a large, portly lady, with blonde hair and big cow-like eyes, sat with her feet in the fender reading a novel. “So there you are, dear,” she said, greeting Ivy affectionately, but retaining a greasy thumb in the book to keep her place. “I’m glad you’ve come, for Mr. Skoot has just arranged to have an extra rehearsal to-night.” “Is this Mr. Denmead?” she inquired, extending her hand graciously and taking a rapid survey of him from head to foot. “Have you found rooms yet?” “No, I have not,” said Ralph, his low-toned voice and quiet manner contrasting most curiously with her loud accents. “I was going to ask you if there is any list of lodgings.” “To be sure,” she said. “Here it is; you’ll find those all very good and reasonable. I’ve known most of them myself in past years.” Ralph thanked her and turned to go, glancing with some compassion at Ivy. “I shall see you again at rehearsal,” he said. “Mind you have something to eat first.” “Oh, yes, I’ll see to her,” said Mrs. Skoot, vociferously. “She’s to board with me you know, her grandfather made me promise that. Half-past seven for the rehearsal, don’t forget. Your landlady will be able to direct you to the theatre.” “What an awful woman!” thought Ralph to himself. “The Professor must be out of his mind to let Ivy be with her for six whole months. She may be all that’s virtuous--but as a constant companion! Poor Ivy! I wonder how such a decent little fellow as Skoot comes to have such a wife!” At this point in his reflections they reached the first house on his list, but found the rooms already secured by other members of the company. The same result followed the next application, and yet again the next. He began to grow tired of wandering about the snowy streets, and catching sight of a card in a window announcing that rooms were to be had, he paused at a neat but unpretentious house and once more made his inquiry. A very prim-looking widow appeared in answer to his knock; she seemed favourably impressed with his appearance and mentioned her terms. “That will do very well. I want the rooms for a week,” said Ralph, longing to get into a house, for he was half-frozen and very hungry. “I don’t take lodgers that keep late hours,” said the widow, cautiously. “I like to lock up by half-past ten, sir.”