Elsa Doland now moved to the door, pressed a bell, and, taking a
magazine from the table, sat down in a chair near the footlights. A
moment later, in answer to the ring, a young woman entered, to be
greeted instantly by an impassioned bellow from Mr. Bunbury.

"Miss Winch!"

The new arrival stopped and looked out over the footlights, not in the
pained manner of the man in the bowler hat, but with the sort of genial
indulgence of one who has come to a juvenile party to amuse the
children. She was a square, wholesome, good-humoured looking girl with a
serious face, the gravity of which was contradicted by the faint smile
that seemed to lurk about the corner of her mouth. She was certainly not
pretty, and Sally, watching her with keen interest, was surprised that
Fillmore had had the sense to disregard surface homeliness and recognize
her charm. Deep down in Fillmore, Sally decided, there must lurk an
unsuspected vein of intelligence.

"Hello?" said Miss Winch, amiably.

Mr. Bunbury seemed profoundly moved.

"Miss Winch, did I or did I not ask you to refrain from chewing gum
during rehearsal?"

"That's right, so you did," admitted Miss Winch, chummily.

"Then why are you doing it?"