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"
"I haven't heard anything about being put in the sextette," she said
quietly, "and I don't believe I will be."
"Well, I don't know why not." There was a new warmth in the medium's
voice. Rose had won a victory here, and she knew it. "You've got the
looks and the shape, and you can dance better than any of the big girls,
or us mediums, either. And if he doesn't put that big Benedict lemon
into the back line where she belongs, and give you her place in the
sextette, it will be because he's afraid of her drag."
Rose forbore to inquire into the nature of the Benedict girl's drag.
Whatever it may have been, John Galbraith was evidently not afraid of
it, because as he dismissed that very rehearsal, calling the rest of the
chorus for twelve the following morning, and the sextette for eleven, he
told Rose to report at the earlier hour. And a moment later, she heard
Dave say to the big show girl named Vesta Folsom (some one with a vein
of playful irony must have been responsible for this christening),
"Well, maybe I didn't call that turn.


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