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iim tKrougK in the silence of spontaneous, concentrated attention.
DRCHIDS
Illustrated by May Wilson Preston
BI T tlie heart of Toscha Emanuel could not long be sad. His worries were gone after a toss of his leonine head with its mane of abundant curling black hair. He had foiled them! As the onlyact of foresight and judgment of his entire life he had smuggled out his e\ ening clothes, under the already suspicious eye of his new landlady, and left them safe in the theater. There they should always await him. Always he should be able to go on. Thus he had made provision for the future, e\ en though it did cost him a full ten minutes of dressing time between dinner and the performance e\ery night. A glow of self-appro\'al and positi^•e virtue warmed his pride to elation, hence the humming of the merry roundelay.
The lights! Wonderful! And there passed a queen of great beauty in her motor chariot of great price. Perhaps she would hear him sing this night. If not tonight then certainly some tremendous evening ahead in that inevitable future when the great Metropolitan opera house should call the multitudes to acknowledge his genius.
One day these lights of Broadway would blazon out his name, too, among the stellar attractions. To Toscha the lights were not advertising but homage.
Here was the theater just across the street. What! Yes, a thousand curses. There was that dog of a collector from SadofT the tailor, standing in wait at the stage door. And wath him was a hawk-faced devil from the laundry. They appeared to have become acquainted in a common cause and quest. He hated them.
But he was Toscha Emanuel and his genius would triumph. How? He would go in by the public entrance to the theater. No, the functionary at the door did not know him. A delay and explanations might be dangerous and already he had not a minute to spare. Once he had been late for the curtain. The director had spoken and now Toscha would never again be late for his number. Ah! An inspiration. He would buy a ticket and pass in masquerading as a part of the audience at his own show.
Toscha fumbled in his pocket as he hurried up to the ticket window. Yes, a half dollar. He frowned. That would buy only a seat for the gallery. He, Toscha, the great barytone, buying a gallerv seat. How absurd! Then a
By TERRY RAMSAYE
Id that writs of attachment and execution could only be swered by writs of replevin which must be supported Ijy ends legal nonsense and court mysteries. How did these blood ckers expect him to so pay for necessities when his genius was rognized only to the pittance of seventy dollars a week!
chuckle again. It was genius to buy a gallery seat to go in and hear himself sing.
The half dollar clicked on the glass window ledge, the violently marcelled lady flicked the miraculous brass keys and the ticket shot out. With pay night two days away, Toscha had spent his last fifty cents to go to his own show. But he was there, as good as on time. So the troubles of the moment were over.