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every time you turned, there was someone else clamoring
     for your money. And to Katie’s weary eyes and increasingly depressed heart, they all
     seemed far more sophisticated than anything she had done in the circus.
    Certainly they were all dressed better than the shabby little gauze costume and tights
     she had in her bundle of belongings. How could plain white gauze, which looked fine
     and bright in the light of the circus tent, compete with spangles and glitter, artificial
     jewels and tinsel? It seemed impossible that she would make any money at all, displaying
     her tricks by herself out on the Boardwalk. She didn’t think she could dance out here
     either, although the Gitano dances she had learned might have done well; she needed
     music to dance to.
    It seemed equally impossible that she would find a job among the dancers she saw here.
     They all had dance routines that were nothing like the circus ballet performed. All
     bounces and kicks and tossing of petticoats—she could probably
learn
such things quickly, but these people wouldn’t want someone who needed to learn,
     they would want someone who already had mastered such steps.
    She turned a corner to find herself staring at the back of a huge, muscled man—and
     froze in panic for a moment.
He’s found me! He tracked me here and he found me!
she thought, before the man turned around—and it wasn’t Dick at all. It
was
someone who was almost certainly a strongman in a show, but he had a sweet face,
     with puppy-like eyes. She flattened herself against the wall of the building anyway
     as he passed, her bundle clutched to her chest, and felt too limp to move for many
     minutes when he had gone.
    It was going to be suppertime soon, as her stomach reminded her. She wondered where
     she could possibly find the cheapest food here. Concern knotted her stomach as much
     as hunger.
Maybe if I followed some of the performers—
    Her thoughts were interrupted by a scrap of paper—
    It caught her eye as it danced toward her like a butterfly, and then suddenly lodged
     itself in the cleavage of her gown. Annoyed, she fished it out and was about to throw
     it away, when she realized it was an advertisement torn from a newspaper. Curious
     now, she read it, excitement growing with every word.
    Wanted: Female Dancer or Acrobat. Position open as assistant to stage magician. Must
     be slender, limber, and fearless, prepared to work hard, eager to learn. Apply to
     Lionel Hawkins, Palace Music Hall.
    She could hardly believe it. This seemed like a miracle—too good to be true—
    But what did she have to lose by answering it? The worst that would happen would be
     that the position had been filled, and she could ask at the music hall about cheap
     lodgings and food. At least she knew there
was
an opening, or had been when this advertisement had been torn from the paper!
    Bit of newsprint clutched in her hand, she slipped in among the crowds, looking for
     someone who could direct her to the theater, hope rising in her that Mary Small might
     have sent her to the right place after all.
    •   •   •
    The girl in the alley caught Jack’s attention mostly because she wasn’t the usual
     sort to be lingering at a stage door. She was small, lithe, and dark—Gypsy, he’d have
     said, or part-Gypsy. She was dressed neatly, and was very clean, but her clothing
     had seen a lot of use and wear. She peered at the open door with a hesitant look on
     her face, and he stumped out to where she could see him.
    “Something I can do for you, miss?” he called. He half expected her to bolt, but instead,
     she looked a little relieved, and hurried toward him.
    “I was told to come to this door—” she said, holding out a scrap of newspaper. “—there
     is a position open?”
    He recognized it at a glance for what it was—Lionel’s advertisement. When he looked
     back up at her, her little face shaded with hunger and apprehension, she continued.
     “I am a dancer