"You see, you don't know it quite all--yet, Mr. Manager!"
I spat it out at him, and then walked to the cop, my hands ready
for the bracelets.

"But there's one thing I do know!" He's a big fellow but quick
on his feet, and in a minute he was up and between me and the
cop. "And there isn't a theatrical man in all America that knows
it quicker than Fred Obermuller, that can detect it sooner and
develop it better. And you've got it, girl, you've got it! . . .
Officer, take this for your trouble. I couldn't hold the fellow,
after all. Never mind which way he went; I'll call up the office
and explain."

He shut the door after the cop, and came back to me. I had fallen
into a chair. My knees were weak, and I was trembling all over.

"Have you seen the playlet Charity at the Vaudeville?" he
roared at me.

I shook my head.

"Well, it's a scene in a foundling asylum. Here's a pass. Go up
now and see it. If you hurry you'll get there just in time for
that act. Then if you come to me at the office in the morning at
ten, I'll give you a chance as one of the Charity girls. Do you
want it?"

God, Mag! Do I want it!