love.'

At these words a look of pleasure passed over the hard, blunt features of
the peasant woman, and she said with tears in her voice:

'You know I'm a bit hard with my tongue, but that's all; I don't mean it.'

'Well, say no more, mother,' and Kate went upstairs to her workroom. Miss
Hender, already returned from dinner, was trembling with excitement, and
she waited impatiently for the door to be shut that she might talk. She had
been round to see her friend the stage carpenter, and he had told her all
about the actor. Mr. Lennox was the boss; Mr. Hayes, the acting manager,
was a nobody, generally pretty well boozed; and Mr. Cox, the London gent,
didn't travel.

Kate listened, only half understanding what was said.

'And what part does he play in _Madame Angot_?' she asked as she bent
her head to examine the bead trimmings she was stitching on to the sleeves.

'The low comedy part,' said Miss Hender; but seeing that Kate did not
understand, she hastened to explain that the low comedy parts meant the
funny parts.

'He's the man who's lost his wig--La--La Ravodee, I think they call it--and
a very nice man he is. When I was talking to Bill I could see Mr. Lennox
between the wings; he had his arm round Miss Leslie's shoulder. I'm sure
he's sweet on her.'

Kate looked up from her work and stared at Miss Hender slowly. The