The Weber Literary Journal strolled toward the hotel the movie center-aisle group. They entered the hotel and Lem Leekins led the way to the register and began reading aloud. Bill Loomis wasn't satisfied with Lem's pronunciation, so, as he said, he had to see for "hisself." One by one, the inquisitives scanned the signatures personally, until the whole page took on the appearance of sloppy weather or or a page from a thumb-print expert's memorandum. The crowd stayed until after Laura with a coquettish nod and a "hello boys," had passed through the lobby on her way to the theatre. "Some difference with Laura and little Sadie Sullivan," Lem remarked; "remember when that kid played 'Little Eva?'" Lem laughed, as only Lem could. "When Sade Sullivan played it, rotten. No pep no earthly pep. Now take this Laura Lake. There's lots to one of her kind. Why, I even heard yep, I heard it said yesterday that she even swears once in awhile." Sadie arrived early that evening. She had scarcely taken her place at the right entrance when a man brushed rudely by and made his way to the stage door. Instantly she recognized the slouching form of the stranger who had spoken to her of Laura Lake. This man had come for no good purpose. She feared for Laura's safety. For a moment she hesitated, then quickly followed. She moved down the dark hallway, under the stage, past the so-called dungeon-room that was once an engine room, but now, just a big, damp, smutty-smelling, cold cellar. It's walls were thick, brick affairs with but one doorway, made of steel. This room always gave Sadie a feeling that she couldn't interpret. Every time she even looked into it a cold, clammy, spooky feeling would come over her, sometimes causing her to rush on with a little scream. This time, however, she crept quietly by on her way to the dressing room with the big star in it. She was just in time, to see the door slam and to hear the key turn in the lock. For a second she stood, deciding whether to knock. Had the man entered that door or was he perhaps The Weber Literary Journal skulking around the dungeon-room? The familiar loud voice of Laura settled the question. "Rusty Graves why are you here?" The answer came quickly a man's voice one so gruff, it fairly startled our little heroine just outside the door. Sadie had heard this voice once before today. "Fer-sake, gal, smile," the voice blurted. "Aint ya pleased to see yer old man again?" The shock was complete. Sadie gave up all intentions of knocking. But she did not leave the door. Curiosity and a real fear for her idol kept her a fascinated but anxious eavesdropper. "Of course I'm glad to see you." The tone belied the words. "Purty nifty little job you got, now, ol' gal, with yer name all over the billboards! Now kid, why has prosperity been so kind to you these last two years? I hear that you're boss of this joint, how come? But you know, it grieves me to see my little wife working to death under an assumed name to make her living. It shore does Oh, to think how I have suffered out in the world. Many a time I have gone hungry and sleepless." "And thirsty, I suppose," Laura interfered. "Thirsty? Why Laura dear, I never touch that stuff anymore. Can't you realize what I am doing for you?" "Say, Rusty! where is this grand fortune, you are forever raving about?" "Gimme a kiss, girlie 'n I'll tell you." "Me kiss You!" But she evidently did. "Oh, yes, darling," on he raved, "I had planned to save up over six-thousand. I worked and skimped and planned and--" "And then?" Laura chipped in. "Then then see this clipping, 'Granite Bank Burns.' My money went with that." "Humph! How long did it take you to think up that one?" Rusty sobbed pitifully. "You don't think I'm lying to you, do you?" "Aw dry up, Rusty, I've had enough of this come on 29