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to become increasingly cold and cross. It was impossible to wait for friends in their dressing-rooms, for the reason that these dirty, dark little kennels were packed so close with sweating, swearing humanity that there would not have been room in them for so much as an extra mouse.

Paulina Varley, who was very small, always found herself pushed into the most drafty corner of all, the ono, nearest to the constantly swinging door. She might have comforted herself with the reflection that she scarcely ever came to the theater for her father, but she only feit increasingly cold and tired as she waited, and more inclined for self-pity than for satisfaction.

The Fairy Queen jostled past, and Paulina observed that she wore a new fur tippet and muff.

"Hullo, Polly, have you found anything yet?"

"No," she answered reluctantly, her eyes devouring the tippet. Lucky Fairy Queen! No wonder she looked gay and opulent and even a little disdainful of the sabersharp east wind! So might have been Paulina Varley— given a fur tippet and muff.

The Fairy Queen was gone, with a whiff of scent and a blast of cold air as the door banged behind her. And Paulina, shivering, hugged her plaid shawl tighter about her shoulders and waited in silence until the Demon King sauntered by.

"Well, Polly? Pa's just coming."

"I wish he'd make haste. It's terrible cold to-night."

The Demon King looked at her casually. Fifteen, was she? And he had thought her twelve, until two nights ago, with her tiny slight bones, her little peaked face, her plainly combed dark hair and enormous melancholy eyes. She was dressed childishly too, with her ugly merino dress and muslin pantalettes. The idea of Polly as a grown woman suddenly amused him, and he grinned.

"What is it?" she wanted to know.

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