"Uncle Phil!" Tony's voice had a tiny catch in it. She knew her
grandmother would be bitterly opposed to her going on the stage, and had
imagined she would have to win even her uncle over by slow degrees to the
gratifying of this desire of her heart. It had hurt her even to think of
hurting him or going against him in any way--he who was, "father and
mother and a'" to her. Dear Uncle Phil! How he always understood and took
the big, broad viewpoint!

The manager grunted approval at that. His belligerency waned.

"Congratulate you, sir. That's spoken like a man of sense. Evidently you
are able to see over the wall farther than most of the witch-ridden New
Englanders I've met. I should like the chance to launch this Rosalind of
yours. But don't make it too far off. Youth is the biggest drawing card
in the world and--the most transient. You have to get in the game early
to get away with it. I'll start her whenever you say--next week--next
month--next year. Guarantee to have her ready to understudy a star in
three months and perhaps a star herself in six. She might jump into the
heavens overnight. Stranger things have happened. What do you say? May I
have an option on the young lady?"

"That is rather too big a question to settle off hand at midnight. Tony
is barely twenty-two and she has home obligations which will have to be
considered. Her grandmother is old and frail and--a New Englander of the
old school."

"Too bad," commiserated the manager. "But never mind all that. All I ask
is that you won't let her sign up with anybody else without giving me a
chance first."