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Dillingford, will you be good enough to escort Miss " "I've never seen any one die before," she said in a low, tense voice. Her eyes were fixed on the still face. "Why why, how tightly he holds my hand! I can't get it away he must be alive, Mr. Barnes. Where is that silly doctor?"
"Where is Crowndale?" interrupted Barnes, a slight frown appearing on his brow. He had a distinct feeling that there was handwriting on the wall and that it was put there purposely for him to read. "About five hours' walk from Hornville," said Dillingford, grinning. "Twenty-five cents by train. We merely resume a tour interrupted by the serious illness of Mr. Rushcroft.
"You may count on me, Dillingford, to put up my half interest in the show. I will have a fling at it a couple of weeks anyhow. If it doesn't pan out in that time, well, we can always close, can't we?" "We certainly can," said the other, with conviction. "It wouldn't surprise me in the least, however, to see you clean up a very tidy bit of money, Mr. Barnes.
"Up against no business at all," said Mr. Dillingford. "We couldn't even get 'em to come in on passes. Last Saturday night we had out enough paper to fill the house and, by gosh, only eleven people showed up. You can't beat that, can you? Three of 'em paid to get in. That made a dollar and a half, box office. We nearly had to give it back." "Bad weather?" suggested Barnes feelingly.
And how could she be so certain of that grumpy old man whom she had never laid eyes on before? What was the name of the place she was bound for? Green Fancy! What an odd name for a house! And what sort of house His reflections were interrupted by the return of Mr. Dillingford, who carried a huge pewter pitcher from which steam arose in volume.
As a matter of habit he was roaring about his room and, while he hadn't put so much as his nose inside of it, he insisted on knowing what they meant by giving it to him. Mr. Bacon and Mr. Dillingford were growling because there was no elevator to hoist them two flights up, and Miss Thackeray was wanting to know WHY she couldn't have a bit of supper served in her room.
What's the matter? Are you a fugitive from justice?" Barnes laughed aloud. There was no withstanding the fellow's sprightly impudence. "I happen to enjoy walking," said he. "If I enjoyed it as much as you do, I'd be limping into Harlem by this time," said Mr. Dillingford sadly. "But, you see, I'm an actor. I'm too proud to walk." "Up against poor business, I presume?"
Having guessed correctly in the one instance, he allowed himself another and even bolder guess: the little book-agent had either received a message from or delivered one to the occupant or driver of the car from Green Fancy. Dillingford gave him a lighted candle at the desk and he started upstairs, his mind full of the events and conjectures of the day.
She ought to leave the stage, the dear child. No more fitted to it than an Easter lily. Her place is in the home, the " "Good Lord, I'm not thinking of " And Barnes, aghast, stopped before blurting out the words that leaped to his lips. "I mean to say, this is a proposition that may also affect your excellent companions, Bacon and Dillingford, as well as yourselves."
He lowered his voice as he gave vent to the following: "That man Jones is the meanest human being God ever let Yes, sir, coming, sir!" He started for the open door with surprising alacrity. "Never mind the hot water," said Barnes, sorry for the little man. "No use," said Mr. Dillingford dejectedly. "He charges ten cents for hot water. You've got to have it whether you want it or not.
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