carefully following every direction. Some walked down the stairs while others crossed the dance floor; a group fluttered in from the lobby; another group moved toward the exits. They talked or laughed only when the megaphone ordered them to.
And Letcher was behind the megaphone!
What an important person Letcher was, Minnie thought when she saw how blindly everybody obeyed him. She didn't notice that Bacon was sitting back placidly smoking a cigar and guiding Letcher's every move. How proud she was to think that Letcher had singled her out from among all the pretty girls there. Minnie had seen that at once, so it was clear to her she must 'play up to him.' She wished he weren't such a fat, ungainly creature, but were slim and handsome like Al Kessler. She sighed at the thought of Al, but she saw through him now, with his cheap sentiments, tawdry and insincere.
Now they were rehearsing with music.
"Get them to talk! To laugh! My God, are they dead?" growled Bacon. "What in hell's the matter with the music?"
Letcher sprang to the platform. "Talk! Laugh! My God, are you dead!" he bawled. "Music! What in hell's the matter with the music!"
As if touched by electric switches they leapt into action. The organ whined and the violins screeched. Hollow laughter and meaningless chatter came from their lips.
"Very good," called Letcher after he caught the nod of approval from Bacon. "Now choose your partners for the dance!"
Al Kessler, so much more animated than the others, scurried among them, keeping well in the foreground.
"Don't be a lens-hog, Kessler," yelled Letcher.
Minnie didn't know what a lens-hog was but she realized
