“FRANCESCA JOCELYN.”

The secretary answered Jarvis’s wire at once, making the appointment at eleven o’clock on the morrow.

“It seems incredible that anything could run as smoothly as this for me,” said Jarvis, as he read the dispatch.

“That’s because I’m in it,” boasted Bambi, with a touch of her old impudence.  “I’m your mascot.”

“That must be it.”

“It means a midnight train for you, to make it comfortably.  Do you suppose you will stay more than a day?”

“I should think not.  I don’t know.”

Ardelia came in with a yellow envelope.

“Sumpin’ doin’ roun’ dis heah house.  Telegram boy des’ a-ringin’ at de’ do’ bell stiddy.”

“For me?” said Bambi.

“Mrs. Jarvis Jocelyn, Sunny side, New York.

“Mr. Frohman will see you at three o’clock to-morrow.”

Bambi gazed at it a moment, a bit dazed, then she laughed.

“Anything the matter?” Jarvis inquired.

“No-o.  Oh, no.”

This was how it happened that Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn took the midnight train to New York, while Mrs. Jarvis Jocelyn followed on an early morning one.

“But why, if you both have to go to that city of abominations, do you not go together?” inquired the Professor.

“Part of the secret,” she reminded him.

“Dear me, I had forgotten we were living in a plot.  How is it coming out?”

“I will know to-day, definitely, just how, when, and where it is coming out.”

Jarvis presented himself at the theatre at eleven sharp, and felt a thrill of righteous pride when he was ushered into the private office without delay.  His vow that he would enter without so much as a calling-card had come true sooner than he had hoped.

Mr. Frohman smiled in his friendly way, and shook hands.

“How’s my friend, the ex-Jehu?” he laughed.

“Fine!  I hope you are well.”

“I’m all right.  How’s the play?”

“I have it here.  It is good.”

“Good, is it?” Mr. Frohman’s eyes twinkled.

“Yes.  My—­Mrs. Jocelyn worked at it with me, and I have to admit that the success, if it is one, is largely due to her.”

“She is a writer, too?”

“No, but she has a keen dramatic sense.  She understands character, too.”

“So?  Lucky for you.  Does she want her name on the bills?”

“She has never spoken of it, but I wish her to go on as co-dramatist.”

“All right.  Clever wife is an asset.  Now we’ve got just two hours.  Go ahead—­read me what you’ve got there.”

Jarvis unpacked the manuscript and began.  He had worked over the scenes so often with Bambi that he fell into her dramatic way of “doing” the scenes.  Once or twice the manager chuckled as he recognized her touch and intonation on a line.  Certainly Jarvis had never read so well.  He was encouraged by frequent laughs from his audience.  There were interruptions now and then, criticisms and suggestions.  As he read and laid down the last page, Mr. Frohman nodded his head.