Mackwayte shook his head. 

 “These revues are fair killing the trade, my dear, and that’s a fact. They don’t want art to-day, only rag-time and legs and all that. Our people are being cruelly hit by it and that’s a fact. Why, who do you think I ran into at Harris’ this morning? Why, Barney who used to work with the great Charles, you know, my dear. For years he drew his ten pound a week regular. Yet there he was, looking for a job the same as the rest of us. Poor fellow, he was down on his luck!” 

 Barbara looked up quickly. 

 “Daddy, you lent him money....” 

 Mr. Mackwayte looked extremely uncomfortable. 

 “Only a trifle, my dear, just a few shillings.... to take him over the week-end.... he’s getting something.... he’ll repay me, I feel sure....” 

 “It’s too bad of you, daddy,” his daughter said severely. “I gave you that ten shillings to buy yourself a bottle of whiskey. You know he won’t pay you back. That Barney’s a bad egg!” 

 “Things are going bad with the profession,” replied Mr. Mackwayte. “They don’t seem to want any of us old stagers today, Barbara!” 

 “Now, daddy, you know I don’t allow you to talk like that. Why, you are only just finished working.... the Samuel Circuit, too!” 

 Barbara looked up at the old man quickly. 

 “Only, four weeks’ trial, my dear.... they didn’t want me, else they would have given me the full forty weeks. No, I expect I am getting past my work. But it’s hard on you child....” 

 Barbara sprang up and placed her hand across her father’s mouth. 

 “I won’t have you talk like that, Mac”—that was her pet name for him—“you’ve worked hard all your life and now it’s my turn. Men have had it all their own way before this war came along: now women are going to have a look in. Presently, when I get to be supervisor of my section and they raise my pay again, you will be able to refuse all offers of work. You can go down to Harris with a big cigar in your mouth and patronize him, daddy...” 

 The telephone standing on the desk in the corner of the cheap little room tingled out sharply. Barbara rose and went across to the desk. Mr. Mackwayte thought how singularly graceful she looked as she stood, 

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