He laughed. Say, Mag, that big fellow is like a boy when he's
pleased. I guess that's what makes it such fun to please him.

"And I, who admired your business sagacity in holding off,
Nance!" he said.

"I thought you admired my take-off! of Mademoiselle Picotte."

"Well?"

"Well, why don't you make use of it? Take me round to the
theaters and let me mimic all the swell actors and actresses.
I've got more chance with you than with that Trust gang. They
wouldn't give me room to do my own stunt; they'd make me fit into
theirs. But you--"

"But me! You think you can wind me round your finger?"

"Not--yet."

He chuckled. I thought I had him going. I saw Nance Olden
spending her evenings at the big Broadway theaters, when, just at
that minute, Ginger, the call-boy, burst in with a note.

Say, Mag, I wouldn't like to get that man Obermuller hopping mad
at me, and Nancy Olden's no coward, either. But the way he
gritted his teeth at that note and the devil in his eyes when he
lifted them from it, made me wonder how I'd ever dared be
facetious with him.