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126 degradation he had fallen. A flaw existed in his character, a dull complacency, a lack of moral strength.

What inner change had transformed him into a determined, ambitious young man, he did not know. Inexplicably the Nasmuths, three wise women, had lifted him to his feet. They had guided him through the nerve-wracking experience of a vaudeville break-in, then into his first musical show rôle in the "turkey," which Nellie Nasmuth had produced.

"Ready?" he now heard Norah call.

"Hi, Norrie—sure I'm ready. Didn't know you were here," he replied.

"Let's go, then," he heard her say.

"I detest these chorus calls." Ray Leech gazed at his features in a hand mirror. "I don't see why the Mother Superior does it. She knows us. She could pick us out in the dark."

Ray leaned against the back wall of the stage. "Frankie," he said, "do you really think Julie has a free hand?"

"Julie sometimes has a very free hand," Frankie smirked. "I'm for him though. I mean, he's really poison if you cross him. He never forgets. He's a snake, a veritable adder, the dear thing."

"I'm glad I'm not one of those trollops over there," another boy pointed to the girls in line downstage.

"You are not, you know you aren't," Frankie winked. "You just wish you could get along without bosom pads on Saturday nights."

Into the circle came Harry Waldron, dark haired, square jawed, his face blue with a heavy beard. He spoke with a pleasing, soft unmasculine voice.