"We did the best we could," Summerlad pursued, "had Gloria Glory engaged; but this morning, when she was to report for work, she sent round word she had ptomaine poisoning and was being taken to a hospital."
"Gloria Glory?" Fanny put in. "Why, I saw her down at Sunset last night. And the only thing the matter with her then was not ptomaine poisoning."
"Too much party," Jacques interpreted. "I had the hunch, all right. Gloria sure do crook a mean elbow when she gets it unlimbered."
"Then you'll do it, Linda?"
"I'll love doing it. What do you want me to wear?"
"You'll do!" Summerlad chuckled. "Only a natural-born picture actress would ask what to wear before wanting to know what the part was. You begin tomorrow if you can get your costume ready, and you'll only want one, a riding habit."
"Cross-saddle costume, Miss Lee," Jacques explained. "White breeches and a pair of swell boots—you know—like the society dames wear when they go hoss-backing in Central Park, New York, if you've ever seen 'em."
"Yes," said Lucinda soberly—"once or twice."
"Have you got a riding costume, Linda?"
"No; but I daresay I can pick one up in Los Angeles this afternoon."