a prohibition she had stepped forth upon the stage.
This brief interview did not prove as prolific of results as Winston confidently expected. Miss Norvell evidently considered such casual conversation no foundation for future friendship, and although she greeted him when they again met, much as she acknowledged acquaintanceship with the others of the troupe, there remained a quiet reserve about her manner, which effectually barred all thought of possible familiarity. Indeed, that she ever again considered him as in any way differing from the others about her did not once occur to Winston until one evening at Bluffton, when by chance he stood resting behind a piece of set scenery and thus overheard the manager as he halted the young lady on the way to her dressing room.
"Meess Norvell," and Albrecht stood rubbing his hands and smiling genially, "at Gilchrist we are pilled to blay for dwo nights, und der second blay vill be der 'Man from der Vest'—you know dot bart, Ida Somers?"
"Yes," she acknowledged, "I am perfectly acquainted with the lines, but who is to play Ralph Wilde?"
"Mister Mooney, of course. You tink dot I import some actors venever I change der pill?"
She lifted her dark, expressive eyes to his mottled face, slowly gathering up her skirts in one hand.
"As you please," she said quietly, "but I shall not play Ida Somers to Mr. Mooney's Ralph Wilde. I told you as much plainly before we left Denver, and it was for that special reason the 'Heart of the World' was substituted. The more I have seen of Mr. Mooney since we took the road, the less I am inclined to yield in this matter."
Albrecht laughed coarsely, his face reddening.
"Oh, bah!" he exclaimed, gruffly derisive. "Ven you begome star then you can have dem tantrums, but not now, not mit me. You blay vat I say, or I send back after some von else. You bedder not get too gay, or you lose your job damn quick. You don't vant Mooney to make lofe to you? You don't vant him to giss you?—hey, vos dot it?"
"Yes, that was exactly it."
"Ach!—you too nice to be brofessional; you like to choose your lofer, hey? You forget you earn a livin' so. Vot you got against Mooney?"
Miss Norvell, her cheeks burning indignantly, her eyes already ablaze, did not mince words.
"Nothing personally just so long as he keeps away from me," she retorted clearly. "He is coarse, vulgar, boorish, and I have far too much respect for myself to permit such a man to touch me, either upon the stage or off; to have him kiss me would be an unbearable insult."
Albrecht, totally unable to comprehend the feelings of the girl, shifted uneasily beneath the sharp sting of her words, yet continued to smile idiotically.
"Dot is very nice, quite melodramatic, but it is not brofessional, Meess," he stammered, striving to get hold of some satisfactory argument. "Vy, Mooney vos not so pad. Meess Lyle she act dot bart mit him all der last season, and make no kick. Dunder! vat you vant—an angel? You don't hafe to take dot bart mit me, or Meester Lane either, don 't it, hey?"
Miss Norvell turned contemptuously away from him, her face white with determination.
"If you really want to know, there is only one man in all your troupe I would consent to play it with," she declared calmly.
"Und dot is?"
"I do not even know his name," and she turned her head just sufficiently to look directly into Albrecht's surprised face; "but I refer to your new utility man; he, at least, possesses some of the ordinary attributes of a gentleman."
The door of her dressing-room opened and closed, leaving the startled manager standing alone without, gasping for breath, his thick lips gurgling impotent curses, while Winston discreetly drew farther back amid the intricacy of scenery.
CHAPTER III
A BREAKING OF ICE
The troupe in its wandering arrived at Bolton Junction early on a Saturday afternoon, and Winston, lingering a moment in the hotel office, overheard Miss Norvell ask the manager if they would probably spend Sunday there; and later question the hotel clerk regarding any Episcopalian services in the town. Their rather late arrival, however, kept him so exceedingly busy with stage preparation for the evening's performance that this conversation scarcely recurred to mind until his night's labor had been completed. Then, in the silence of his room, he resolved upon an immediate change in conditions, or else the deliberate giving up of further experiment altogether. He was long since tired enough of it, yet a strange, almost unaccountable attraction for this young woman continued binding him to disagreeable servitude.
He came down stairs the following morning, his plans completely determined upon. He was carefully dressed in the neat business suit which had been packed away ever since his first reckless plunge into theatrical life, and thus attired he felt more like his old self than at any moment since his surrender to the dictation of Albrecht. In some degree self-confidence, audacity, hope, came promptly trooping back with the mere donning of clean linen and semi-fashionable attire, so that Winston "utility" became Winston gentleman, in the twinkling of an eye. The other members of the troupe slept late, leaving him to breakfast alone after vainly loitering about the office in the hope that Miss Norvell might by some chance appear and keep him company. It was almost mortifying to behold that young woman enter the deserted dining-room soon after he had returned to the lonely office, but she gave no sign of recognition in passing, and his returned audacity scarcely proved sufficient to permit his encroachment upon her privacy. He could only linger a moment at the desk in an effort to catch a better view of her through the partially open door.
Nervously gripping a freshly lighted cigar, Winston finally strolled forth upon the wide porch to await, with all possible patience, the opportunity he felt assured was fast approaching. It was a bright spring morning, sufficiently warm to be comfortable without in the sunshine, although the mountains overshadowing the town were yet white with snow. The one long, straggling business street appeared sufficiently lonely, being almost deserted, the shops closed. The notable contrast between its present rather dreary desolation and the wild revelry of the previous night seemed really painful, while the solemn prevailing stillness served to weaken Winston's bold resolutions and brought him a strange timidity. He slowly strolled a block or more, peering in at the shop windows, yet never venturing beyond easy view of the hotel steps. Then he sauntered as deliberately back again. Lane and Mooney were now stationed upon the porch, tipping far back in their chairs, their feet deposited on the convenient railing, smoking and conversing noisily with a group of travelling men. Winston, to his disgust, caught little scraps of the coarse stories exchanged, constantly greeted by roars of laughter, but drew as far away from their immediate vicinity as possible, leaning idly against the rail. Far down the street, from some unseen steeple, a church bell rang solemnly. Listening, he wondered if she would come alone, and a dread lest she might not set his heart throbbing.
Albrecht, looking not unlike a fat hog newly shaven, sauntered out of the open office door, and stared idly about. He spoke a gracious word or two to his rather silent utility man, viewing his well-cut clothing with some apparent misgiving, finally drifting over to join the more congenial group beyond. Winston did not alter his chosen position, but remained with watchful eyes never long straying from off the ladies' entrance, a few steps to his left. All at once that slightly used door opened, and the hot blood leaped through his veins as Miss Norvell stepped forth unaccompanied. She appeared well groomed, looking dainty enough in her blue skirt and jacket, her dark hair crowned by the tasteful blue toque, a prayer-book clasped in one neatly gloved hand. As she turned unconsciously toward the steps, Winston lifted his hat and bowed. With a quick upward glance of surprise the girl recognized him, a sudden flush crimsoning her cheeks, her eyes as instantly dropping before his own. In that sudden revelation the