"What if I told you she had accepted?" the wolf snapped.

Tony saw the swift shadow cloud her uncle's face and hated the manager
for hurting him like that.

"I didn't," she protested indignantly. "You know I wouldn't promise
anything without talking to you, Uncle Phil. I told him I couldn't go."

"But you wanted to," persisted the wolf, bound to get his fangs in
somewhere.

Tony smiled a little wistfully.

"I wanted to most awfully," she confessed, patting her uncle's arm to
take the sting out of her admission. "Will you ask me again some day?"
she appealed to the manager.

He snorted at that.

"You'll come asking me, young lady, and before long, too. Laura LaRue's
daughter isn't going to settle down to being either a butterfly or a
blue-stocking. You are going on the stage and you know it. No use,
Holiday. You won't be able to hold her back. It's in the blood. You may
be able to dam the tide for a time, but not forever."

"I don't intend to dam it," said the doctor gravely. "If, when the time
comes, Tony wishes to go on the stage, I shall not try to prevent her. In
fact I shall help her in every way in my power."