"Why," answered Burlingame, "I suppose I'd consider July first as the
best thing that could happen to me."

Kitty laughed; and that was what he wanted.

What had that old rogue been doing now--offering Kitty his
eighteen-story office building?

"It's odd, isn't it, that I shouldn't possess a little histrionic
ability. You'd think it would be in my blood to act."

"It is, Kitty; only not to mimic. You're an actress, but the Big
Dramatist writes your business for you. Now, I've got some fairly good
news for you. An assignment."

"Work! What is it?"

"I am going to send you on a visit to the most charming movie queen in
the business. She is going to return to Broadway this autumn, and she
has a trunkful of plays to read. I have found your judgment ace-high.
Mornings you will read with her; afternoons you will visit. She
remembers your mother, who was the best comedienne of her day. So she
will be quite as interested in you as you are in her. I want you to note
her ways, how she amuses herself, eats, exercises. I want you to note
the contents of her beautiful home; if she likes dogs or cats or horses.
You will take a camera and get half a dozen good pictures, and a page
yarn for Easter Sunday. Stay as long as she wants you to."