"She _is_ bad; there is no denying it," remarked the dresser, who was
busily stroking out the roses which were to garland Saidie's dress.
"It gives me a turn every time I see her go on the stage."

"She looks worse than she really is," returned Saidie; "sometimes she
is as brisk and lively as you like--she so soon gets tired."

"She is a tidy sight worse than 'tired,' and it strikes me her voice
was weak like to-night. Did you notice it, Miss?"

"Oh, she varies so. I guess she would be as right as any of us the
moment she was on the boards."

Nevertheless, although she was not going to confess it, Saidie was
troubled and uneasy. There was something in Bella's face she had not
seen before, and it frightened her--a little. She stood at the wings
with a quick-beating heart, but the next moment laughed at her own
fears.

Bella was singing her very best. Not a falter in the clear, bell-like
tones, and her face was smiling and radiant.

And then--her eyes fastened themselves on a box in the grand tier;
with a scared expression she shrank back a little, and her lip
quivered, but with a mighty effort she controlled herself and caught
up the refrain again--carolled a word or two, faltered, swayed
helplessly, uncertainly forward, and fell headlong on the stage.

They were round her in a second, lifting her gently and tenderly. Her