"Georgie paid two dollars for renting it, and she's bound to get the money's worth of wear out of it, even if she makes me look like a fright and spoils the play." "Nonsense," said Patty, pushing away the Parent and giving her undivided attention to the question. "Your own hair does look better. Just mislay the wig and keep out of Georgie's way till the curtain goes up. The audience are beginning to come," she announced to the room in general, "and you've got to keep still back there. You're making an awful racket, and they can hear you all over the house. Here, what are you making such a noise for?" she demanded of Lord Bromley, who came clumping up with footfalls which reverberated through the flies. "I can't help it," he said crossly. "Look at these boots. They're so big that I can step out of them without unlacing them." "It's not my fault. I haven't anything to do with the costumes." "I know it; but what can I do?" "Never mind," said Patty, soothingly; "they don't look so awfully bad. You'll have to try and walk without raising your feet." She went out on the stage, where Georgie was giving her last directions to the scene-shifters. "The minute the curtain goes down on the first act change this forest to the drawing-room scene, and don't make any noise hammering. If you have to hammer, do it while the orchestra's playing. How does it look?" she asked anxiously, turning to Patty. "Beautiful," said Patty. "I'd scarcely recognize it." The "forest scene" had served in every outdoor capacity for the last four years, and it was usually hailed with a groan on the part of the audience. "I was just coming in to see if the cast were ready," said Georgie. "They're all made up, and are sitting in the green-room getting stage-fright. What shall I do now?" "Let me see," said Georgie, consulting her book. "One of the committee is to prompt, one is to stay with the men and see that they manage the curtain and the lights in the right places, one is to give the cues, and two are to help change costumes. Cynthia has to change from a riding-habit to a ball-gown in four minutes. I think you'd better help her, too." "Anything you please," said Patty, obligingly. "I'll stand on a stool with the ball-gown in the air ready to drop it over her head the moment she appears, like a harness on a fire-horse. Is everything out here done? What time is it?" "Yes; everything's done, and it's five minutes of eight. We can begin as soon as the audience is ready." They peered through the folds of the heavy velvet curtain at the sea of faces in front. Eight hundred girls in light evening-gowns were talking and laughing and singing. Snatches of song would start up in one corner and sweep gaily over the house, and sometimes two would meet and clash in the center, to the horror of those who preferred harmony to volume.