you know, me and my sister, Ada Dyer; you've heard of her, I
guess. The courts pay us for her keep, but it isn't much, and
I'm expecting to get what I spent on her from what she makes
on the stage. Two of them other children are my pupils; but
they can't touch Madie. She is a better dancer an' singer
than any of them. If it hadn't been for the Society keeping
her back, she would have been on the stage two years ago.
She's great, she is. She'll be just as good as her mother
was."
Van Bibber gave a little start, and winced visibly, but
turned it off into a cough. "And her father," he said
hesitatingly, "does he--"

"Her father," said the woman, tossing back her head, "he
looks after himself, he does. We don't ask no favors of HIM.
She'll get along without him or his folks, thank you. Call
him a gentleman? Nice gentleman he is!" Then she stopped
abruptly. "I guess, though, you know him," she added.
Perhaps he's a friend of yourn?"

"I just know him," said Van Bibber, wearily.

He sat with the child asleep beside him while the woman
turned to the others and dressed them for the third act. She
explained that Madie would not appear in the last act, only
the two larger girls, so she let her sleep, with the cape of
Van Bibber's cloak around her.

Van Bibber sat there for several long minutes thinking,
and then looked up quickly, and dropped his eyes again as