“Well, she is with the ‘L. R. S.’ company—I beg your pardon, I mean the ‘Lady Rossmore’s Secret’ company. We get in the habit of abbreviating it. It’s a light thing we put on for a filler. I’m afraid it isn’t doing any too well, which, however, may make it easier for you to induce your friend to give it up.”
“Oh, I hope I can!” and Dorothy left her seat and came to stand beside the manager’s desk. She had lost nearly all her fear and nervousness now.
“They play in Rochester to-night,” went on the manager consulting his list. “Then they go to Rockdale—”
“Only one night in Rochester?” asked Dorothy, showing some surprise and disappointment.
“Well, one night of that I fancy will be enough for any place,” was the manager’s laughing reply. “However, they may stay over to-morrow. But Rockdale is only a few miles from there. You could easily catch them at Rockdale. Is there anything more I can do for you?”
“No, thank you,” and Dorothy turned away.
“If I can now, or later, just let me know,” went on the manager. Then he wished her good-bye and turned back to his desk.
Dorothy’s cheeks were flushed when she stepped up to Nat in the lobby where he was watching the men putting in place the photographs of the next week’s performers. He seemed to have forgotten all about his cousin.
“Oh, is that you?” he asked, and he looked like some one suddenly awakened from a dream. “I do believe if I stood here much longer I’d be put into a frame by mistake. How did you make out?”
“You mustn’t ask,” answered Dorothy pleasantly. “You see I can’t quite report on it yet.”