piece. Sits up at nights, when he ought to be sleeping or studying his
part, thinking out new schemes for advertising the show. And the
comedian. His speciality is drawing me aside and asking me to write in
new scenes for him. I couldn't stand it any longer. I just came away
and left them to fight it out among themselves.'

'I'm sure you have no need to worry. A play with such a good story is
certain to succeed.'

George had previously obliged with a brief description of the plot of
_The Footpills_.

'Did you like the story?' he said, tenderly.

'I thought it was fine.'

'How sympathetic you are!' cooed George, glutinously, edging a little
closer. 'Do you know--'

'Shall we be going back to the hotel?' said the girl.

* * * * *

Those noisome creatures, the hired murderers of _Fate's Footpills_,
descended upon Marvis Bay early next afternoon, and George, meeting
them at the station, in reluctant pursuance of a promise given to
Arthur Mifflin, felt moodily that, if only they could make their
acting one-half as full of colour as their clothes, the play would be
one of the most pronounced successes of modern times. In the forefront
gleamed, like the white plumes of Navarre, the light flannel suit of