"Nonsense, Sammy!" cried the daughter. "You're always such a fussy old dear! Glad to see me?"
"I should say yes! But come along. We've no time to waste."
The quartet—which included the Breton maid—were soon in the comfortable limousine below.
"My!" said the dapper little man. "You're big medicine to these eyes! Always Johnny on the spot. You're the only woman of the kind."
"It was a narrow squeak this time. Wrecks, delays, snow, and all that."
"How do you feel?" anxiously.
"Splendid!"
"Letter-perfect?"
"Never doubt it!... New York!... Home! The glorious noise of it! The magnificent hurry!... Where are we going to eat?"
"Theater. Everything's ready in the office. You'll have half an hour to doze in. No new people to confuse you; old cast complete. House sold out week in advance. The whole town is on its toes to see you. I am a brute to force you on to-night, without any rest; but you were due three days ago. And say! when I got that cable I swore. Never heard of such a thing. And it turned out to be the most original stunt of the winter. The town swept clean of your photographs and lithos, the papers agreeing not to run Sunday cuts; not even a tintype in the lobby. And the whole town is crazy to know why. Some little advertising stunt, believe me! Nothing in town but your name on three-sheets and small bills. Hereafter you boss your own publicity campaigns."