The Poster of Alcide

On Saturday mornings there was deposited on the plate of each guest at
breakfast time, a long folded paper with Mrs. White's compliments.
Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left
the house without a smile upon her face. She was practically destitute
of jewellery. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a
very scanty lunch. Another day of non-success would mean many
disagreeable things.

And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of
hers was a slender reed on which to lean. She mounted the stairs of
the theatrical agent's office with very much less than her usual
buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general
appearance of the room into which she was shown. There was already a
score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together,
others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Beyond was another
door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. EARLES,
Strictly Private Every one stared at Anna. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted
composure. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar,
advanced towards her languidly.

"Want to see Mr. Earles?" he inquired.

"I do," Anna answered. "Here is my card. Will you take it in to him?"

The young man smiled in a superior manner.

"Have to take your turn," he remarked laconically. "There's twenty
before you, and Mr. Earles is going out at twelve sharp--important
engagement. Better come another morning."