"Applause and flowers—that's all failures ever get," and Martha shook her head wearily. "The end of my dreams has come. I shall close the theater to-night."
"Lord, Miss Martha," cried Lizzie, "don't be hasty. Ah," as a knock sounded on the door, "there are the papers. Shall I open them up for you?"
"I can find the notices easily enough," said Martha, taking the papers. "I am sure the horrid headlines will stare me in the face. Mr. Clayton tried to encourage me last night, but I am sure the verdict will be against me."
"I wouldn't bother with the papers if I felt that way, Miss Martha. Lots of the actors at Mrs. Anderson's said they never read no criticisms, but once in a great while when an actor got a good line, I always noticed he'd find a way to read it aloud at the supper table."
"By the way, Lizzie," said Martha, suddenly, "is Mrs. Anderson's full now, do you suppose?"
"It wasn't yesterday."
"Do you suppose I could get my old room again?"
"Your old room?" cried the amazed Lizzie. "Why, that's no place for a real actress."
Martha sighed again and tried to smile. "But I'm not a real actress and I must find a cheaper place. Pack up to-day. Better 'phone the hotel office at once that we shall leave in an hour."
Lizzie went to the 'phone while Martha opened the newspapers. She turned the pages idly until she found the headlines she sought, and for a moment read in silence. Suddenly she sprang to her feet and threw the papers on the floor.