"I am overcome," I stammered. "I do not know whether ..."

She gave that easy laugh of hers. "That means you will. Then it is settled. Now, there is little time to lose. The play is only three nights away. Tomorrow is a rehearsal. I have a copy here. You will read it through and learn your part, and tomorrow at four of the clock you will come for rehearsal. Take this copy, study it. I want you to show me that I have not been mistaken in you."

"But ... I do not know ... I have never ..."

"That is all part of the life, my dear. It is not all listening to an audience shouting 'Bravo, Madam Sarah.' It is learning parts, suffering that indescribable terror when the moment to go on stage arrives ... and sometimes the audiences are not kind. This will be different. This is not the King's Theatre in Drury Lane, or the Cockpit. This is the home of Sir Henry Willerton where, if you give the worst performance ever seen upon a stage, they will give you some applause. They will be pohte ... always. Do not fear. It is a tryout. It is to amuse the guests who are very ready to be amused; and it will show me—to a degree—whether I was right in my feeling that Mistress Sarah Standish will be an actress."

"It is so ... exciting."

"So, you will do it, Mistress Standish? You will play the part?"

"Oh, I will, I will!"

"I knew you would want to. You are myself when I was your age. Even your name is right. Sarah Standish. I hear it on people's lips. Well, we shall see ... soon. Learn your lines. Practice them every moment you can. There will be someone to prompt you, so do not let the fear of forgetting affect you. On the night, you will be that little waif. Are you happy? Delighted and a little frightened? Is that not so? It is as it should be ... a mingling of the two ... then you will get right into that little waif's skin; and, Sarah Standish, you will decide your fate which, remember, none can do but yourself. I preach. I always do, you know. It is because of my enthusiasm for my profession ... and when I see someone who feels as I do, I rant, as some would tell you. Sarah, Romeo, and little waif ... Good luck on the night."

When she had left me I sat for some time clutching the paper she had given me, staring ahead of me at those shrubs which on another occasion she had converted into Juliet's balcony; and I had never known such exhilarating anticipation before in my life.

When my mother heard that I was to go to Willerton House to perform in a play, she was disconcerted, and I greatly feared that she would forbid me to do so.

"Play-acting!" she cried. "It is doing the work of the Devil. It is against God's laws."

"Oh, come," said my father. " 'Tis not really so. 'Tis nothing but a little diversion."

"Flaunting herself on a stage!"

" 'Tis not really a stage. 'Tis only the Willerton ballroom. Sir Henry approves of it. 'Tis merely a game."

"Game!" snorted my mother. "A game of the Devil."

"Oh, come, Mildred. That is a little strong, is it not?"

"I do not like it."

"I do not see how we can forbid Sarah's going. Sir Henry would take it amiss."

It was the right approach. My mother, practical in the extreme, was fully aware of the advantages which came to us from my father's benevolent employer, and the folly of offending him. She deplored the way of life which the Willertons had taken up since the Restoration of the Monarchy, but, as my father pointed out to her, that was no concern of ours. It was a fact that almost everyone in the country had changed their way of life since then.

So, shaking her head and grumbling that no good would come of this, my mother did not persist with her objections.

As for myself, I was in a haze of wonder. I quickly learned my lines and went about feeling that I was indeed that little waif.

I had stepped into another world. Always before I had gone to Willerton House as the daughter of the estate manager who was there because of the bounty of Sir Henry and Lady Willerton towards the humbler folk. Now I was a guest.

Kitty Carslake was in control. She seized me as soon as I arrived.

"Ha! Here is our little waif. Have you learned your lines? Yes? We shall see. Now we have no time to waste. There is a dress rehearsal first. You will get into your waif's dress at once. There may have to be alterations and what is most important is your gown when you turn to grandeur. I have rifled Maria's wardrobe and have taken one of her gowns which I hope will be a near fit. Get to it. In there, my child. We are starting almost immediately and you are in the first act."

There were several people present. Maria smiled at me and lifted her shoulders, as though to say, "What next?"

I was hastened into a room by Kitty, who showed me the waif's dress and the other which I should wear later. She gave me a special grin.

"Good luck," she whispered.

I had never known such exhilaration.

The performance itself was like a dream to me. I felt this was what I was meant to do. When I stepped on to the stage, I was that little waif. I had a basket which was supposed to contain herrings. I called my wares as one or two of the players strolled past. Then came the moment when the elegant gentleman accidentally knocked my basket from my hand and I had to express my dismay. I heard a faint giggle from the watchers, but it was all real to me. I was nearly starving, and the gentleman had destroyed my hope of eating for the next few days.

"Bravo!" cried a member of the audience—a gentleman sitting in the front row. I was immersed in my part, but I was delighted.

Then I was changing into my beautiful gown—such a contrast to my rags. No herring basket now. I was having an effect on all their lives: on Kitty, who had the main part, of course; on her father, who kept forgetting his lines; and on the young lord who was attracted to Kitty; and she and he might not have overcome their misunderstandings and have regretted it all their lives but for the actions of the little waif, now as splendidly attired as any of them.

It was all highly sentimental, scarcely suitable for the London stage, but it was just the thing for a group of amateurs, and when it was over we stood hand in hand at the front of the dais while the audience applauded. I was standing beside Kitty and she suddenly pushed me forward. The clapping was loud and again I heard that shout of "Bravo!," and I believed it came from the man who had said it before.

This time I was able to see him. He was sitting in the front row of chairs, his arms folded. He looked straight at me and smiled rather roguishly, as though this was all something of a joke—which I suppose it was to the rest of them, though it was very serious to me. He looked very distinguished, but far from young. He must have been in his mid-thirties, and from my fifteen-year-old stance he seemed quite old. There was an air of authority about him, and he was one who would be singled out in a crowd.

As we left the stage, Kitty said: "There is to be a supper. I have sent a message over to your parents to tell them that you will be staying for that, and that they are not to worry, for someone will escort you home."

I was in a haze of happiness. I had never dreamed that anything like this could happen to me. Tonight I had learned something about myself. I wanted to be an actress, to play on a real stage in a real theater.

Kitty was smiling at me. I think she knew exactly what I was feeUng. She was amused and I think rather pleased.

In my beautiful dress—which Maria had worn when she was in London—I felt just like one of these people. The dress had had to be altered a little, but not much, so that it fitted me perfectly. It gave me confidence. I felt I was an honored member of the company, especially when people told me how they had enjoyed my performance.

Maria said: "You were good. You should have seen your face when you lost the herrings! You made us all feel very sorry for you. We were so glad when Lord Whatever-his-name-was took you home. My word! You showed them all, did you not?" She laughed. "It was fun, anyway. People will be talking about it for weeks. My mother is very pleased. Everyone will be wanting to do plays in their houses."

Kitty was with me when we went into the dining room where, in addition to the main table, several small ones had been set too.

"We help ourselves, I believe, from the long table," said Kitty, "where the food is laid out. Fm hungry. I always am after a show. That's because I am too overwrought to eat beforehand. Lady Wilier ton was a good prompter, did you not think? And she needed to be! Your benefactor kept getting lost, did he not? I noticed you helped him more than once. You learned his part as well as your own."

"It was necessary," I replied, "in that long scene we did together in the first act."

"Oh yes, when the clumsy oaf knocked your basket out of your hand and told you his life story. You lived it, did you not? You believed every word of it. That is why you came over so well. You were really deep in it. Now, food."

Somebody was beside us. It was the man who had been in the front row and who had applauded so vociferously.

"I shall join you," he said.

Kitty laughed. "That is just like my lord," she said to me. "Never a 'May I?,' always *I shall.' "

"It is better that way, I do assure you," he replied. "So I repeat that I shall take the liberty of joining you two young ladies for supper." He turned to me. "I was entranced by the play."

Kitty gave him a supercilious look. She said to me: "He is going to tell us that we outclassed Mrs. Betterton, and Mrs. Anne Marshall would have been mad with envy if she had seen the play tonight, that Thomas Killigrew will be determined to put on our little masterpiece and he will, of course, realize that none could play it as we did tonight."

"You take the words out of my mouth, Lady Donnerton," he said, "and your wit is equal to your Thespian talents."

"This is the way they talk in the circles frequented by my lord," said Kitty to me. "In the words of another playwright, Tull of sound and fury, signifying nothing.' "

"I assure you, sweet Mistress," he replied, turning to me, "the lady maligns me." Then to Kitty: "May I have the pleasure of an introduction to our charming waif, now transformed by the happy matter of an overturn of her basket of herrings into a young lady who would grace the King's court?"

"This is Mistress Sarah Standish," said Kitty.

He bowed to me, his eyes twinkling and an expression of what I could not fail to know was admiration.

"And this," went on Kitty, "is Lord Rosslyn."

"I am enchanted," he said, looking at me.

As for myself, I was still in a state of exultation. This was how people behaved in court circles, I imagined. One would have to remember that they did not really mean what they said, but such flattery was very pleasant to hear.

"Let us take this small table," he said. "It will be pleasant to sup a trois. Pray be seated, ladies, and I shall see that we receive the necessary attention."

Kitty and I obeyed and he went off.

She was smiling at me. "I can see why you find this evening's entertainment amusing."

"I have never before known anything like it," I told her.

"You must not think an actress's life is all gaiety and attention from charming lords. It has its darker side."

"It was the play that excited me," I said. "This is just amusing and everything is so new to me."

"Those who praise you to your face often have a very different tale to tell when you are absent. But tonight you have had a glimpse of a kind of theater." She leaned on the table and looked at me very seriously. ''You will be the one to make up your mind what you will do. If you are born to be an actress and do not use your gifts, you could spend a lifetime frustrated and regretful."

A man came to the table. It was Lord Donnerton.

"There you are, my love," he said to Kitty. "I was looking for you." He sat down beside Kitty and smiled at me.

"No need to introduce the young lady," he said. "Your performance was wonderful, my dear."

So this was the man whom Kitty had married and, if I had read her aright, she was already regretting have done so.

He went on: "Rosslyn is getting something for you, he tells me. He'll get one of the men to bring it over."

He was right. Lord Rosslyn soon joined us and with him was one of the serving men, carrying a tray.