And Winston did. He was of that determined nature which performs
thoroughly any work once deliberately undertaken; and, although the
merest idle whim had originally brought him to this position of utility
man in the "Heart of the World" company, he was already beginning to
experience a slight degree of interest in the success of the coming
show, and to feel a faint _esprit de corps_, which commanded his best
efforts. Indeed, his temporary devotion to the preparation of the
stage proved sufficiently strong to obscure partially for the time
being all recollection of that first incentive which had suggested his
taking such a step--the young lady discovered asleep in Number
Twenty-seven. The remembrance of her scarcely recurred to him all
through the afternoon, yet it finally returned in overwhelming rush
when, in the course of his arduous labors, he raised up a small leather
trunk and discovered her name painted plainly upon the end of it. The
chalk mark designating where it belonged read "Dressing-room No. 2,"
and, instead of rolling it roughly in that direction, as he had rolled
numerous others, the new utility man lifted it carefully upon his
shoulder and deposited it gently against the farther wall. He glanced
with curiosity about the restricted apartment to which Miss Beth
Norvell had been assigned. It appeared the merest hole of a place,
narrow and ill-ventilated, the side walls and ceiling composed of rough
lumber, and it was evidently designed to be lit at night by a single
gas jet, inclosed within a wire netting. This apartment contained
merely a single rude chair, of the kitchen variety, and an exceedingly
small mirror cracked across one corner and badly fly-specked. Numerous
rusty spikes, intended to hold articles of discarded clothing,
decorated both side walls and the back of the door. It was dismally
bare, and above all, it was abominably dirty, the dust lying thick
everywhere, the floor apparently unswept for weeks. With an
exclamation of disgust Winston hunted up broom and dust-rag, and gave