Adele was sitting at the bare dressing-table, gazing, a little awe-stricken, at the array of mirrors, lights and the vista of dresses down the long alleyway which served as a wardrobe. At the sight of Mendoza she went red.
“Miss Leamington, isn’t it?” asked Stella sweetly. “May I come in?”
“Do, please,” said Adele, hastily rising.
“Please do sit down,” said Stella. “It’s a very uncomfortable chair, but most of the chairs here are uncomfortable. They tell me you have been ‘doubling’ for me?”
“ ‘Doubling’?” said Adele, puzzled.
“Yes, Mr. Knebworth said he was ‘doubling’ you. You know what I mean: when an artiste can’t appear, they sometimes put in an understudy in scenes where she’s not very distinctly shown—long shots——”
“But Mr. Knebworth took me close up,” said the girl quietly. “I was only in one long shot.”
Miss Mendoza masked her anger and sighed.
“Poor old chap! He’s very angry with me, and really, I oughtn’t to annoy him. I’m coming back to-morrow, you know.”
The girl went pale.