“Manager of the company or the house?” asked the smartly dressed individual who took care of the tickets. He was favourably impressed by Carrie’s looks.
“I don’t know,” said Carrie, taken back by the question.
“You couldn’t see the manager of the house to-day, anyhow,” volunteered the young man. “He’s out of town.”
He noted her puzzled look, and then added: “What is it you wish to see about?”
“I want to see about getting a position,” she answered.
“You’d better see the manager of the company,” he returned, “but he isn’t here now.”
“When will he be in?” asked Carrie, somewhat relieved by this information.
“Well, you might find him in between eleven and twelve. He’s here after two o’clock.”
Carrie thanked him and walked briskly out, while the young man gazed after her through one of the side windows of his gilded coop.
“Good-looking,” he said to himself, and proceeded to visions of condescensions on her part which were exceedingly flattering to himself.