Van Bibber dodged two stage hands who were steering a
scene at him, stepped over the carpet as it unrolled, and
brushed through a group of anxious, whispering chorus people
into the quiet of the star's dressing-room.

The star saw him in the long mirror before which he sat,
while his dresser tugged at his boots, and threw up his hands
desperately.

"Well," he cried, in mock resignation, "are we in it or
are we not? Are they in their seats still or have they fled?"

"How are you, John?" said Van Bibber to the dresser.
Then he dropped into a big arm-chair in the corner, and got up
again with a protesting sigh to light his cigar between the
wires around the gas-burner. "Oh, it's going very well. I
wouldn't have come around if it wasn't. If the rest of it is
as good as the first act, you needn't worry."

Van Bibber's unchallenged freedom behind the scenes had
been a source of much comment and perplexity to the members of
the Lester Comic Opera Company. He had made his first
appearance there during one hot night of the long run of the
previous summer, and had continued to be an almost nightly
visitor for several weeks. At first it was supposed that he
was backing the piece, that he was the "Angel," as those weak
and wealthy individuals are called who allow themselves to be
led into supplying the finances for theatrical experiments.
But as he never peered through the curtain-hole to count the
house, nor made frequent trips to the front of it to look at