"Mr. Stevens," he said, referring to the author, "is preparing a little song, which he would like you to sing next week."
"Oh, I can't sing," returned Carrie.
"It isn't anything difficult. 'It's something that is very simple,' he says, 'and would suit you exactly.'"
"Of course, I wouldn't mind trying," said Carrie, archly.
"Would you mind coming to the box-office a few moments before you dress?" observed the manager, in addition. "There's a little matter I want to speak to you about."
"Certainly," replied Carrie.
In that latter place the manager produced a paper.
"Now, of course," he said, "we want to be fair with you in the matter of salary. Your contract here only calls for thirty dollars a week for the next three months. How would it do to make it, say, one hundred and fifty a week and extend it for twelve months?"
"Oh, very well," said Carrie, scarcely believing her ears.
"Supposing, then, you just sign this."