among the first to leave the opera house were mrs. talbot and her husband.

"i have had quite enough of this," said the lady to james talbot. "the company and the play are both very poor."

"perhaps you are right," he admitted. "i must say i looked for something much better myself. that poor butler couldn't act at all."

"he was dumstruck," said mrs. talbot, and felt compelled to laugh. "poor fellow, he ought to go at some other line of work."

they were soon on the way home. mr. talbot had ordered a carriage to come for them when the performance was over, but this was not at hand, so they were forced to walk.

"i didn't make much by taking her out to-night," said the schemer to himself. "next time i'll have to make sure that i am taking her to something that is really first-class."

when the pair reached home james talbot[pg 209] wished his wife to come into the sitting-room, to talk over their business affairs. the fact of the matter was, he was running short of money, and he desired his wife to make him an advance.

"i have something of a headache, james," she said. "i think i had better retire early."

"i will not detain you long, my love," he answered.

soon they were in the sitting-room and the lady dropped into an easy chair. he could not sit down, but began to walk up and down nervously.

"i hate very much to mention the matter to you, sarah," he began, "but the fact is, a remittance from a man in chicago who owes me quite some money has been delayed, and this has cut me short."

"do you want money?"

"if you can spare it, i would like to have a hundred dollars or so until the remittance comes."

"very well, you can have it in the morning," answered mrs. talbot quietly.

james talbot had told her before they were married that he was fairly well-to-do, but since they had become man and wife she had not seen a dollar of his money.

it was true, he had a little money, or had had it, but the amount was less than a thousand dol[pg 210]lars, and it was now tied up in a speculation that promised little or no return. james talbot had no head for business, and even his wife was beginning to find that out. he could be miserly, but miserliness is not true economy. he pretended to deal in real estate, but he was too shiftless and lazy to apply himself to steady work.

"i will be all right as soon as the money comes," went on talbot cheerfully. "after this i trust i shall never have to trouble you again."

"how is the real estate business progressing?" she asked.

"fairly well. granville is not a booming town."

"i know that."

"i am half of a mind to try my luck in chicago. that is where they make fortunes in real estate every year."

"perhaps; but they have to have a large capital to start on."

"exactly, my love. but with a large capital it is a dead sure thing, for it cannot burn up, cannot be stolen from you, and constantly increases in value. what do you think of my plan to start in chicago?"

"i am sure i have no objection, although i am comfortably situated here."

[pg 211]

"you could keep this home if you wished—at least, at first, and i could come out every saturday afternoon and remain until monday. the trouble is, the venture would require quite some capital."

"i presume it would."

"if i had five or ten thousand dollars to spare, i would start at once."

"haven't you that much, james?" she asked, with interest.

"not in ready money. my cash is tied up in investments. but you could loan me the amount, couldn't you, my love?"

mrs. talbot's face flushed, and her eyes sought the floor. she had been afraid that this was what was coming.

"i—i suppose so," she faltered, hardly knowing what to say.

"of course you would be secured. i would see to that."

"yes, james, i would want that. for the money is to go to robert, you know."

his face fell. "the boy always!" he thought. "oh, i wish he would never be heard from again!"

"but if i make a barrel of money out of my investments, that must go to you," he said aloud.

[pg 212]

"no, you shall keep the money," she replied. "i have as much as i will ever need."

in a few minutes more mrs. talbot retired. james talbot walked the sitting-room floor with considerable satisfaction.

"ten thousand dollars will be a nice sum," he mused, rubbing his horny hands together. "robert, eh? well, he'll never see the cash, i'll give james talbot's word on that! it will be several years before he becomes of age, and who knows how much more of the fortune will come my way before that time?"

the morning paper contained a long and semi-humorous account of the performance of "all for love." it said the actors and actresses were probably well-meaning amateurs who had yet much to learn before they would become successful in their profession. they advised the butler in the play to perfect himself in the part of a stuttering comedian! by the account it was evident that the play had come to a conclusion in a perfect uproar, and that many in the audience had demanded their money back.

james talbot had gone off to his real estate office, to perfect his plans for opening up in chicago, when the door-bell rang and jane announced a visitor to see mrs. talbot.

[pg 213]

"he gives his name as livingston palmer," said jane.

"livingston palmer?" mused the lady of the house. "why, where have i heard that before? oh, i remember now. it was on that theatrical programme," and she looked it up to make sure. "he was that butler who started all the trouble. what can he want of me?"

she descended to the parlor to greet her visitor. livingston palmer was seated on the edge of a chair, his face far more careworn than ever before, and his clothing much soiled and torn.

"good-morning," he said humbly. "this is mrs. talbot, who used to be mrs. frost, i believe."

"yes," she answered.

"i am a stranger to you, madam, but i come from chicago, and i am well acquainted with your son robert."

"indeed!" cried mrs. talbot, and her whole manner changed. "is robert in chicago?"

"he is—or at least he was when i left there, two days ago."

"can you tell me what he is doing?"

"he and i were clerks in a cut-rate ticket office. but a fire threw us both out of employment."

[pg 214]

"and you joined a theatrical company," added mrs. talbot.

"how do you know that?"

"i was at the opera house last night and saw you on the stage."

for once in his life livingston palmer's face grew as red as a beet.

"you—er—witnessed that unfortunate affair," he stammered. "i—i——"

"i thought you were new at acting," said the lady candidly. "it was, as you say, unfortunate."

"the people used us meanly," exclaimed palmer. "i was struck in half a dozen places, and my coat was nearly torn from my back, and in the struggle to get away i lost my money and could not find it again."

"when was this? i came away at the conclusion of the second act."

"it was after the play was over. a regular mob congregated around the stage door, and we could scarcely escape with our lives. i never shall go on the stage again, never!" and palmer shook his head bitterly. he meant what he said, and let it be recorded here that he kept his word.