word that he had decided to make a subrosa invasion of the mimic world
to help out poor Flanders and to lay his hand against the prejudice
and ignorance that seemed to be throttling the theatre.

She listened to him in speechless amazement, not quite sure of her
ears.

"Of course, I sha'n't permit my name to be mentioned in the matter,"
he explained hastily. "That would be foolish, my dear. I shall have it
clearly understood that Dick is backing the thing himself--on borrowed
money, if needs be. Now, you see, Miss Colgate is a very clever young
leading woman and--"

"Leading woman?" queried Mrs. Bingle, blinking. She had laid down her
embroidery.

"Stage expression," said he loftily. "It means one who plays--er--
plays leads. Ahem! That is to say, one who takes a principal part in
the show. Miss Colgate is regarded as--"

It was then that Mrs. Bingle found her voice. After ten minutes, he
succeeded in changing the subject. In all his acquaintance with his
wife, he had never known her to be so scathing in the matter of words.
She succeeded in causing him to feel extremely small and sheepish, for
after all there was a world of justice and common sense in what she
had to say concerning his inspired offer to engage in an enterprise
that was as far from his understanding as the North Pole is from the
South.

"But," he managed to insert, weakly, "it's only to help Dick out, to