“Here’s a big piece of lace,” said Dollie, pulling it out of the package. “I expect it is intended for a veil or a mantle, but you can just drape it around your neck and shoulders, and you’ll be as pretty as a picture.”
Marion dressed in the little room that Mr. Vondergrift had set aside for her, and almost before she was ready her employer came to find her.
“What’s that stuff around your neck?” was his first words of greeting.
Marion blushed to the roots of her hair as she answered:
“The neck was too low, Mr. Vondergrift,” she said, simply. “It was fortunate I had the lace, so that I was able to fix it.”
“You are a goose,” said the man, with a frown of displeasure, and just at that moment one of the other singers came to look for him.
Marion took one look at her and almost gasped, for the woman’s dress was cut so low in the neck and so short in the skirt that to Marion’s mind she might almost as well have been naked. There was no mistaking her expression of horror, and Mr. Vondergrift, like a wise man, decided to say no more about her appearance.
“She’ll come to it after a little,” he said to Marcus Rosen, when he left her. “If I had insisted to-night, she would have ‘kicked over the traces,’ and, anyway, it will be a novelty. I hope it catches.”
When Marion’s turn came, she was fairly trembling. Never before in her life had she felt so embarrassed. Only the thought of Dollie and Ralph Moore gave her courage to go on. It was imperative that she should earn that one hundred dollars.
There was a blaze of light as Marion reached the stage, then a blare from the orchestra that sounded strangely confusing.