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 Pittsey 'll explain all that. Come and see me to-morrow morning and I'll give you the new pay roll. Two of the boys are quitting to-night." He patted Don on the shoulder, flatteringly, as he turned away. "I got something up my sleeve for you." Don had to remain with Pittsey until the last of the "boys" had departed and the last article of their wardrobe had been hung on its appointed hook; and then Walter accompanied him on his way back to their rooms, giving him instructions in his duties as time-keeper and "head of the supers." "It's ten a week, you know," Pittsey said, "and a chance to get some sort of little 'thinking part' if one turns up. You do the square thing by Kidder, and he'll shove you."

"Shall I have the—the same place on the stage, with Miss Morris?" Don asked.

Pittsey smiled at a street lamp. "Certainly—unless, as I said, the stage manager wants someone to do a little bit and asks Kidder—or puts you into it, himself. You'll not have anything new to do, immediately—except in the dressing-rooms. One of the new men will take my place in the ranks."

"Oh, I see," Don said, relieved. He added, on second thoughts: "I'm sorry you're going. I'll be lost without you."

Pittsey laughed. "Oh, you'll get along."

"I don't mean that," Don said. "I don't—care about that. You've been so If it hadn't been for you"

"That's all right, old man," Pittsey put in hastily. "I'm only worried about the apartment—about my share in it. I" He turned to watch a passing car,