Suddenly from out the dark shadows of an adjacent door-way sprung a man in a long ulster.
"Don't be frightened, Miss Bain," he exclaimed. "I have been waiting for you almost an hour, to see you home."
Jessie started back in dismay. At that instant he half turned, and the flickering light from the gas-lamp fell full upon his face, and she recognized him as one of the members of the company—Walter Winans, whom Mally Marsh had said was her beau.
Even had this not been the case, Jessie could never have admired so bold-looking a fellow.
"Excuse me, but I am very sorry that you waited for me, Mr. Winans," said Jessie, coldly. "I can find my way back to the hotel alone."
"Phew! What an independent little piece we are, to be sure!" he cried. "You're not expecting any one else, are you?" he inquired looking hastily around.
"No," said Jessie, simply.
"Come on, then, with me," he said, seizing her arm and fairly dragging her along.
Discretion seemed the better part of valor to Jessie. She thought it would not be wise to offend the young man; and, to tell the truth, she was rather glad to have some one to pilot her along through the terrible snow-drifts.
"Let me tell you something," said Winans, without waiting for her answer. "I have taken quite a liking to you, Jessie Bain—this is between you and me—and I hope very much that the feeling will be reciprocated, little girl. I'll be only too glad to escort you to and from the theater every night, if you like. Don't let any of the girls of this company talk you into the belief that they have any claim on me.