"Those five are quite enough," said Burlingham. "Two regulars, two encores, with a third in case of emergency. After dinner Miss Anstruther and I'll fit you out with a costume. You'll make a hit at Sutherland tonight."
"Sutherland!" exclaimed Susan, suddenly pale. "I can't sing there—really, I can't."
Burlingham made a significant gesture toward Pat at the oar above them, and winked at her. "You'll not have stage fright, my dear. You'll pull through."
Susan understood that nothing more was to be said before Pat. Soon Burlingham told him to tie the oar again and retire to the cabin. "I'll stand watch," said he. "I want to talk business with Miss Sackville."
When Pat had gone, Burlingham gave her a sympathetic look. "No confidences, mind you, my dear," he warned. "All I want to know is that it isn't stage fright that's keeping you off the program at Sutherland."
"No," replied the girl. "It isn't stage fright. I'm—I'm sorry
I can't begin right away to earn the money to pay you back.
But—I can't."
"Not even in a velvet and spangle costume—Low neck, short sleeves, with blond wig and paint and powder? You'll not know yourself, my dear—really."
"I couldn't," said Susan. "I'd not be able to open my lips."
"Very well. That's settled." It was evident that Burlingham was deeply disappointed. "We were going to try to make a killing at Sutherland." He sighed. "However, let that pass. If you can't, you can't."
"I'm afraid you're angry with me," cried she.