“Well, then, any time you find it convenient to move in, they are ready. The boy will bring you the keys at the door.”
Carrie noted the elegantly carpeted and decorated hall, the marbled lobby, and showy waiting-room. It was such a place as she had often dreamed of occupying.
“I guess we’d better move right away, don’t you think so?” she observed to Lola, thinking of the commonplace chamber in Seventeenth Street.
“Oh, by all means,” said the latter.
The next day her trunks left for the new abode.
Dressing, after the matinée on Wednesday, a knock came at her dressing-room door.
Carrie looked at the card handed by the boy and suffered a shock of surprise.
“Tell her I’ll be right out,” she said softly. Then, looking at the card, added: “Mrs. Vance.”
“Why, you little sinner,” the latter exclaimed, as she saw Carrie coming toward her across the now vacant stage. “How in the world did this happen?”
Carrie laughed merrily. There was no trace of embarrassment in her friend’s manner. You would have thought that the long separation had come about accidentally.