Bill Willing sat reading in the coldest corner of the writing-room, in the Bat Hotel. Somehow, when he had not denuded himself of his last nickel, and could afford to pay for a corner anywhere, it was always the coldest corner, because he blithely sacrificed his chances of the warmer ones to others. But he was not conscious that his corner was cold tonight. There was that in his heart which would have made the edge of an iceberg seem a comfortable resting-place; and he was so deeply absorbed in his paper (which was one devoted to the interests of the stage) that Loveland had to speak to him twice before he heard and looked up.
At any other time he would have started, stared, and wanted to know whether Loveland's battered appearance was due to a fight or a fire; but now in self-absorption unusual for him, he noticed nothing strange. "Just look at this, my boy," he exclaimed, his eye sparkling with excitement, as he pointed to a paragraph which he had marked with red ink from a bottle on the table. The paragraph was an advertisement, in the midst of a column of other advertisements, apparently all of the same nature, and that column was one of five or six on a page entirely devoted to such advertisements. Still, the few lines were evidently of the most vital importance to Bill, and Loveland supposed he had hit on the offer of some wonderful situation, such as he had been looking for all his life.
"Wanted," was the attractive word which headed the paragraph: and that was what Val had expected; but as he read on, he grew puzzled. "Wanted—For Repertoire Work, Juvenile Leading Man. Must be tall; good looker, not over thirty; gentlemanly manners and appearance, slim figure, fashionable wardrobe on and off stage. No boozers or loafers need apply. Write at once enclosing photo, and stating experience, age, weight, and lowest salary, to Jack Jacobus, Managing Star Tour for Lillie de Lisle, the Little Human Flower; Modunk, Ohio."
Loveland read the advertisement over, half aloud, his friend following every word with the keenest interest and delight.
"Great Scott, ain't it the grandest ever?" Bill demanded, with a beaming smile.
"I don't understand," said Val. "Are you going to try for the engagement?"
"I?" echoed Bill. "Lord, no."
"Well, then what are you so excited about?" Loveland wanted to know.
"Why, that she should be a star—a real live star. My little gal, Lillie de Lisle. It's her—it's her! There can't be two Lillie de Lisles. Praise be, I've heard of her again. And she's way up top. She's a star."
"Oh, the girl you used to be in love with at the theatre?" asked Loveland.