"Oh, I'll go," said Birdie, "if it's just for the sake of getting
something decent to eat. I'm sick of dancing on crackers and ice-water."
That night Nance, for the first time, was reconciled to the final
curtain. The weather was threatening and the audience was small, but that
was not what took the keen edge off the performance. It was the absence
in the parquet of a certain pair of pursuing eyes that made all the
difference. Moreover, the prospect of the carnival ball made even the
footlights pale by comparison.
The wardrobe woman, after much coaxing and bribing, had been induced
to lend the girls two of the property costumes, and Nance, with the
help of several giggling assistants, was being initiated into the
mysteries of the red-bird costume. When she had donned the crimson
tights, and high-heeled crimson boots, and the short-spangled slip
with its black gauze wings, she gave a half-abashed glance at herself
in the long mirror.
"I can't do it, Birdie!" she cried, "I feel like a fool. You be a red
bird, and let me be a bear!"
"Don't we all do it every night?" asked Birdie. "When we've got on our
masks, nobody 'll know us. We'll just be a couple of 'Rag-Time Follies'
taking a night off."
"Don't she look cute with her cap on?" cried one of the girls. "I'd give
my head to be going!"
Nance put on a borrowed rain-coat which was to serve as evening wrap as
well and, with a kiss all around and many parting gibes, ran up the steps
in Birdie's wake.
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