There she sat, silent, lips apart, bewildered eyes moving from one to the other. Between the languid, posing cobra-woman and the gay, chattering, sulphur-crested cockatoo, she looked like a small hypnotised rabbit.
I slipped up to her with my best professional manner on.
"Did you want me for anything, Miss?" I asked in my lowest and most respectful tone.
Poor little Million's face lighted up into a look of the most pathetic relief as she turned and beheld her one friend in that tea-room.
"Ow! S-Smith! Come in, have you?" she exclaimed, giggling nervously. Then, turning to the music-hall artiste, she explained: "This is my lady's-maid!"
"And very nice, too!" said Miss Vi Vassity promptly, with one of those black-eyed glances that seemed to swing round from me to Million, thence to the cobra-woman, the other girls, the stout young Jew, all of whom were staring hard at me.
She ended up in a lightning-quick wink and a quick turn to the long glass that stood beside her teacup which, I suppose, had contained what those people the other day called a rattlesnake cocktail.
"I didn't send for you, Smith, but never mind since you're here," my young mistress said, almost clinging to me in her nervousness. "You can pop upstairs and begin to put out my evening things, as usual——"
"Extra smart to-night, Smith, extra smart; she's comin' on to a box at the Palace to see little Me in my great Dazzling act," put in the actress. "Got to be very dressy for that, old dear. Gala night at the Opera isn't in it.
"The black pearl rope you'll wear, of course. And your diamond fender to wave your hand to me in, please!"