But to-day as she passed the main entrance and made her way through a
side-passage to the stage-door, she tingled with a keener thrill than she
had ever felt before.
"Is Miss Smelts here?" she asked a man who was going in as she did.
"Smelts?" he repeated. "What does she do?"
"She dances."
He shook his head.
"Nobody here by that name," he said, and hurried on.
Nance stood aside and waited, with a terrible sinking of the heart. She
waited a half hour, then an hour, while people came and went. Just as she
was about to give up in despair, she saw a tall, handsome girl hurry up
the steps and come toward her. She had to look twice before she could
make sure that the imposing figure was Birdie.
"Hello, kid," was Birdie's casual greeting. "I forgot all about you. Just
as cute looking as ever, eh! Where did you get that hat?"
"Ten-cent store," said Nance, triumphantly.
"Can you beat that?" said Birdie. "You always did have a style about you.
But your hair's fixed wrong. Come on down to the dressing-room while I
change. I'll do it over before you see Reeser."
Nance followed her across a barn of a place where men in shirt-sleeves
were dragging scenes this way and that.
"Mind the steps; they are awful!" warned Birdie, as they descended into a
gas-lit region partitioned off into long, low dressing-rooms.
"Here's where I hang out. Sit down and let me dude you up a bit. You
always did wear your hair too plain. I'll fix it so's it will make little
Peroxide Pierson green with envy.
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