"Oh, I wouldn't bother, girls," said Mrs. Wessels. "It's all right.
They'll be here in a minute. I don't believe the curtain has gone up
yet."

But the man of whom they spoke turned around at the moment and cast
a glance about the vestibule. They saw a gentleman of an
indeterminate age--judged by his face he might as well have been
forty as thirty-five. A heavy mustache touched with grey covered his
lips. The eyes were twinkling and good-tempered. Between his teeth
he held an unlighted cigar.

"It is Mr. Jadwin," murmured Page, looking quickly away. "But he
don't recognise me."

Laura also averted her eyes.

"Well, why not go right up to him and introduce ourself, or recall
yourself to him?" she hazarded.

"Oh, Laura, I couldn't," gasped Page. "I wouldn't for worlds."

"Couldn't she, Aunt Wess'?" appealed Laura. "Wouldn't it be all
right?"

But Mrs. Wessels, ignoring forms and customs, was helpless. Again
she withdrew from any responsibility in the matter.

"I don't know anything about it," she answered. "But Page oughtn't
to be bold."