Yet how dangerous it is to meddle with Fate! In Angela’s anguish she had said she wanted to die; and the very next day, sure enough, she was tickled to death. For when, after washing her hands, she started to wipe them on the evening paper that she had always found so dry, lo, her eyes fell on these glad tidings, under the heading, “Girls Wanted; Female”
JIMP Girlene wanted with bow legs to play on harp with toes. Apply B. Squimp, Cafe Noir.
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Angie burst into a loud smile. Why, she was made for the place! Her mirror had told her so confidentially many a time, as old friends will, when the news is disagreeable. And didn’t she dimly recall when a mere baby having played with her toes? Surely with a little practice and a pair of violet stockings she could do it again.
She happened, at present, to be just out of harps, but she sat down and tried a few minor chords on the radiator, and succeeded in eliciting considerable applause from the retired bean-boiler in the next room. That is, she thought it was applause till the cus-
