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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33785-8.txt b/33785-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4391990 --- /dev/null +++ b/33785-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4391 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Star for a Night, by Elsie Janis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Star for a Night + A Story of Stage Life + +Author: Elsie Janis + +Release Date: September 21, 2010 [EBook #33785] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STAR FOR A NIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + +[Illustration: ELSIE JANIS IN A FEW OF HER CHARACTERIZATIONS.] + +A STAR FOR A NIGHT + +A STORY OF STAGE LIFE + +BY + +ELSIE JANIS + +WITH PICTURES FROM THE PLAY TAKEN ESPECIALLY FOR THE BOOK + +[Illustration] + +NEW YORK + +WILLIAM RICKEY & COMPANY + +1911 + + +Copyright, 1911, by +BRUCE EDWARDS + +Copyright, 1911, by +WILLIAM RICKEY & COMPANY + +_Registered at Stationers' Hall, London_ +_(All Rights Reserved)_ + +Printed in the United States of America + +PRESS OF WILLIAM G. HEWITT, BROOKLYN, N. Y. + +_To My Mother_ + + + + +ORIGINAL CAST + +OF + +A STAR FOR A NIGHT + +_Produced at Charles Dillingham's Globe Theatre, New York_ + + +"MARKY" ZINSHEIMER _Mr. Joseph Cawthorn_ +MRS. BLACKMAN} Guests at {_Miss Jane Bliss_ +MRS. GILDAY } the {_Miss Pauline Hathaway_ +MRS. MARTIN } Claypool {_Miss Josephine Lachmar_ +MRS. CARLIN } Hotel {_Miss Henrietta Pouts_ +BELL-BOY _Mr. Al Stuart_ +MRS. DAINTON _Miss Harriet Sterling_ +VICTOR WELDON _Mr. Ralph Nairn_ +SANFORD GORDON _Mr. Stanley H. Forde_ +FELICE } Mrs. Dainton's {_Miss Josephine Kernell_ +MURRAY } servants {_Mr. Jack Sullivan_ +FLOSSIE FORSYTHE _Miss Elizabeth Brice_ +MRS. KILPATRICK _Miss Margaret King_ +MARTHA FARNUM _Miss Elsie Janis_ +"PINKIE" LEXINGTON _Miss Julia Frary_ +GEORGE CLAYTON _Mr. Wallace McCutcheon_ +LIZZIE _Miss Olive Quimby_ +ARTHUR MORTIMER _Mr. Gene Revere_ +MRS. JANE ANDERSON _Miss Queenie Vassar_ +MESSENGER BOY _Master Albert Lamson_ +ARNOLD LAWRENCE _Mr. Charles Judels_ +PHIL HUMMER _Mr. Charles King_ + +_Business Manager_ J. CLYDE RIGBY +_Stage Manager_ E. C DONNELLY + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +PAGE + +"Zinsheimer, of New York" 1 + +The English Actress 15 + +Introducing Martha Farnum 27 + +A Glimpse into the Past 49 + +Strictly a Business Bargain 63 + +"Where Everything is Homelike" 71 + +A Hundred-Dollar Bill 89 + +Sanford Gordon Reappears 103 + +Love and Ambition 121 + +The Underground Wires 133 + +In the Green-Room 143 + +An Overture and a Prelude 155 + +Before the Curtain Rose 167 + +The Morning After 183 + +The Final Reckoning 197 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Elsie Janis in a Few of Her Characterizations-- _Frontispiece_ + + FACING PAGE + +"Marky" Zinsheimer (Joseph Cawthorn) 4 + +"Oh, that's Miss Farnum. She's old Mrs. Kilpatrick's companion" 28 + +"I haven't had an orchid this season" 84 + +"More flowers, and from a man I have never spoken to" 94 + +"I refuse to let you go, Martha" 98 + +"I'm sorry I'm so poor," sobbed Pinkie 102 + +"And glad I am to be back in your hospitable house" 114 + +"My boots have not arrived, I refuse to go on unless + correctly dressed" 162 + +Martha Farnum (Elsie Janis) 168 + +"This is infamous, infamous! I won't read another line" 188 + +"She looked like a turnip and acted the part artistically" 194 + + + + +A STAR FOR A NIGHT + + + + +CHAPTER I + +"ZINSHEIMER, OF NEW YORK" + + +Stick a pin in the map of southern Indiana, half an inch to the left of +Lost River, and about six hours from the rest of the world, as time is +used to measure railroad journeys, and you will find a speck called +French Lick Springs. Hidden away in the hills, so remote from the +centers of civilization that only wealthy inebriates and chronic +invalids can afford to visit this out of the way, yet expensive, spot, +French Lick has other attractions than the natural beauties of its +scenery and the health-giving quality of its waters. For while the sick +and the ailing may be tempted to the Springs in the hope of gaining +health from the bad-smelling waters they drink, and dozens of +florid-faced men invade the little town almost every day from the big +and distant cities in order to "get washed out" after too much +indulgence in alcoholic stimulants, there are others who go to the +Springs simply for the excitement of a little whirl at the gaming +tables, which rumor says abound there, but which a shrewd deputy sheriff +invariably reports to the local grand jury, "_Non est._" + +The town itself is a tiny hamlet. There is a post-office, a railroad +station, a few frame buildings, and the hotel--_the_ hotel, because it +is the only shelter the town affords to the weary traveler. Patrons who +have stopped at the City Hotel in Marshalltown, Iowa, or the Commercial +House in Joplin, Missouri, may wonder how such a tiny town supports such +a gigantic hotel, but the rural spectators at the railroad station, who +have seen the trains on the little branch road bring in Pullman after +Pullman loaded to the roofs, know that no small part of the great +outside world comes here for rest, recreation, and rehabilitation. +Drinking is under the ban here--that is, if you must drink, you must +drink the sulphur water. And every one who has tried to mix alcohol with +the water of the Springs knows the evil consequences thereof. + +Which latter explains why Mr. "Marky" Zinsheimer, New York, feather +importer, was particularly grouchy on a certain autumn afternoon when he +strolled into the sun parlor on the veranda of the French Lick Springs +Hotel. In the vicinity of Broadway and Canal Street, New York, Mr. +Zinsheimer was a personage of great importance. Not a cloak model in the +Grand Street district but knew him to be "a perfectly lovely gentleman." +Not a chorus girl south of Fifty-ninth Street but knew that "Marky" was +always a friend in need and a friend indeed. The waiters at Rector's +treated him almost as if he were an equal. He was always sure of a +prominent table at the Café de l'Opera, whether he wore evening clothes +or not. He was accustomed to attention, and demanded it. Furthermore, he +was willing to pay for all the attention he received. Forty-two years +old, with a blond German personality which manifested itself in a +slightly bald forehead, slightly curled blond hair, and a slightly blond +moustache, Mr. "Marky" Zinsheimer gave every outward evidence of being +an important personage. His clothes were, perhaps, a trifle extreme; his +tie perhaps a trifle too pronounced in color; his watch-chain a trifle +too heavy; and his solitaire diamond stud was undoubtedly too large; yet +for all that, if you were in the least bit worldly, "Marky" Zinsheimer +was not a person to be lightly ignored. + +[Illustration: "MARKY" ZINSHEIMER (JOSEPH CAWTHORN)] + +Mr. Zinsheimer's natural good humor was disturbed even before he made +his entrance into the sun parlor. In the first place, he had gone seven +days without a drink, a feat simple enough for a camel, but slightly +difficult for a Zinsheimer. In the second place, he had devised a scheme +for entertainment during his enforced vacation at the Springs, said +entertainment comprising a visit and the companionship at golf of one +Miss Flossie Forsythe, of the "Follies" company, who had hurriedly left +the company in Chicago to accept Mr. Zinsheimer's telegraphed +invitation. But, while Mr. Zinsheimer was genuinely fond of Flossie, and +had even once spoken vaguely of matrimony, he had found that a week of +her society at breakfast, dinner and supper, to say nothing of golf, was +a trifle wearing. + +The third reason for Mr. Zinsheimer's perturbation was the discovery, as +he entered the sun parlor, that all the desirable chairs were occupied. + +Two of the easy wicker rockers were drawn up by a small table, where a +game of checkers was in progress between two fat ladies. Ranged at +intervals along the glass-enclosed front were four other equally stout +ladies, lolling back in equally comfortable chairs, some reading, some +dozing. Mr. Zinsheimer, who had anticipated a pleasant morning reading +the New York papers, was obviously annoyed. Fortunately, he knew the +proper method of attacking and routing the enemy. + +One of the stout ladies, puzzling over her next move, was almost choked +when a whiff of smoke was blown across the checker-board. A moment +later, a somnolent and rotund lady in one of the rockers started up +furiously as another whiff drifted in her direction. A page-boy entering +at this particular moment was hurriedly summoned by the indignant +ladies, and Mr. Zinsheimer, gazing vacantly into space, felt a slight +touch on the arm. + +"Beg pardon, sir," said the boy, "smoking is not permitted here." + +Mr. Zinsheimer frowned. + +"I did not ask permission," he replied. + +Two of the stout ladies gathered up their magazines, glowered at the +placid Zinsheimer and the nonplussed boy, murmured "Wretch," and +departed. + +"But I mean, there's no smoking here," continued the boy. + +"Marky" Zinsheimer blew a particularly large whiff of smoke in the +direction of the checker-table. + +"You're wrong, kid," he remarked. "There _is_ smoking here, and I'm +doing it." + +"But it's against the hotel rules." + +"Hotel rules are like a woman's mind," said "Marky" carelessly, moving +toward the checker-table. "They can be changed to fit any situation." + +The checker-players were so much absorbed in their game that they did +not notice him at first, so he leaned over the table, genially, and +inquired: + +"Well, whose move is it now?" + +"I believe it's mine," retorted one of the two players, indignantly +rising to her feet and starting toward the door. + +"And mine," responded the other, following suit. At the door the twain +paused and called to the other occupant of the room: "We are going for a +walk, Mabel. Won't you come?" + +Mabel picked up her book and moved toward the irate checker-players who +had been so summarily routed. + +"I don't like that cigar," she declared, stopping and turning to +Zinsheimer. + +"Well, then, try one of these," responded the irrepressible "Marky," +offering several long perfectos from a leather case. He was answered +only by a snort of indignation, and the next moment the smiling and +courteous Mr. Zinsheimer, alone on the field of battle, settled himself +in the most comfortable of the vacated chairs. + +But "Marky's" serenity was to be short-lived. There was a rattle of +chatelaine chains, a vague and indistinct odor of some unrecognizable +but vivid perfume, the rustle of silken skirts, a cry of glad surprise, +and Miss Flossie Forsythe, engaging, attractive, youthful and magnetic, +settled herself on the arm of his rocking-chair as though entitled to +rest there by the law of eminent domain. + +"Marky," she cried, "I've been looking for you everywhere! Who ever +would have thought of finding you in the sun parlor?" + +Mr. Zinsheimer coughed uneasily. + +"Yes, that's just what I thought," he stammered. "You see," he added, "I +noticed you talking to that swell chap Gordon in the lobby, and I didn't +like it." + +Flossie patted his cheek playfully, in spite of "Marky's" efforts to +elude her, and said joyfully: + +"Oh, Marky, you were jealous!" + +Mr. Zinsheimer grunted. + +"Well, if you want to find a new backer, go ahead. All right, only you'd +better be careful I don't get cold feet first. Feather importers _is_ in +demand on Broadway this season," he added as an afterthought. + +"But Mr. Gordon is an old friend," pouted Flossie. "I was introduced to +him one night when he sat at a table next to me during the run of +'Florodora.'" + +"I suppose you were one of them original sextetters, eh?" + +"Now, Marky, don't be horrid when I was just going to ask a little favor +of you." + +Mr. Zinsheimer rose to his feet carefully, and buttoned up his coat with +an ominous air, while, relieved of his ballast, Flossie almost fell from +her comfortable perch on the arm of the big chair. + +"Nothing doing, Flossie," remarked Zinsheimer, coldly. "Of course it's +all right for me to pay the hotel bill of my fiancée, but as the bill is +assuming generous proportions, I don't think the fiancée should expect +to go any further." + +Flossie's dark eyes half filled with tears, and there was just a slight +suspicion of a twitch around the lips at the injustice done her, and she +said plaintively: + +"Oh, I don't want to borrow any money." + +At that Zinsheimer threw open his coat easily, sighed with relief, and +inquired easily: + +"Why, certainly, my dear. What is it you want?" + +"Well, it's about my chum, Pinkie Lexington," began Flossie, brushing a +few spects of dust from Mr. Zinsheimer's coat-sleeve. "We were out +together two years ago with 'The Girl from Paris'--the time it stranded +in Butte and you sent us the railroad tickets to come home." + +"I remember," interrupted Zinsheimer, quickly. "Rather a pretty girl she +was, too." + +"She's still pretty, but she's awful fat," resumed Flossie, wonderfully +innocently. "And I never heard any one call her beautiful. Anyhow, the +show she's with has gone on the rocks up near Indianapolis, and Pinkie +has been left high and dry without a cent." + +"So you want me to send her some more rocks, eh?" + +"Not at all. Pinkie wrote me all about it, and I wired her to come down +here at once. She's due this afternoon, and I can share my room with her +if you'll just speak to the manager and say we're good for the money." + +Zinsheimer scratched his head reflectively. + +"But neither of you has any money," he ventured. + +"You know as soon as my lawsuit is settled, I will be on velvet," +retorted Flossie, haughtily. "Meanwhile, your word with the manager +goes." + +"Lawsuit?" repeated Mr. Zinsheimer. "Now, Flossie, that's been going on +for five years and I never found out yet what it was all about. Where is +it and when will it be settled?" + +Flossie's evident embarrassment at the inquiry into the facts of her +lawsuit was fortunately terminated by the sudden entrance of a bell-boy +with a telegram for "Miss Forsythe." + +"That's me, boy," cried Flossie, grabbing the envelope and tearing it +open. "It's from Pinkie and she'll be here on the 3:30 train," she +explained, turning to Zinsheimer. "Boy, call me a carriage." + +"Yes, Miss," responded the boy, moving toward the office. + +"And have it charged to my room," called Flossie, hastily. Then, taking +"Marky" by the coat lapels, she turned her big brown eyes upward and +asked archly: + +"You will speak to the manager about Pinkie?" + +Mr. Zinsheimer endeavored to gain time, but the appeal was direct and to +the point. He coughed twice, as if planning resistance, and then +surrendered. + +"All right," he growled. "I'll speak to the manager, Flossie, but I know +who'll pay the bill." + +"You old dear," cried Flossie, and in another moment the rattling +chatelaines, the vague and unrecognizable perfume, the rustling skirts +and the fascinating Flossie flitted along the veranda toward the waiting +carriage, while "Marky" tried to get interested in the New York papers +and figure the total of seventeen days at five dollars a day, with +extras in the shape of flowers, carriages, candies, manicures, tips, and +other incidentals dear to the heart of a lovely woman who lives +economically but well. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE ENGLISH ACTRESS + + +Mrs. Dainton, the great English actress, had the artistic temperament. +Mrs. Dainton had nerves. Mrs. Dainton had many other things which an +imported foreign star anxious to create a sensation might be expected to +have. For instance, she had Fuzzy-Wuzzy, the petite Pomeranian poodle +which never left her night or day. She had her personal manager, Victor +Weldon, to act as valet for the dog by daytime, and attend to occasional +business details. There were also two maids--Lizette, the French maid, +whose duties were of a personal nature at hotels; and Johanna, the +German maid, who assisted at the theater. Furthermore, there was a +footman whose special province it was to precede Mrs. Dainton at all +times and make sure that no rude persons caused her the slightest +annoyance. In the trail of this imposing procession, as a rule, could be +found Sanford Gordon. + +Once Mrs. Dainton had been a great beauty. The daughter of an obscure +country curate in her native England, conditions made it necessary for +her to support herself. Naturally, as so many of her sex have done, she +gravitated toward the stage, which always beckons most alluringly to +those who have beauty, youth and talent. Too often it is but the Lorelei +by which are wrecked the disappointed hopes of those not fitted by +nature or temperament for the hardships that must be encountered, but +with Mrs. Dainton the struggle for success had been aided materially by +the beauty and charm with which she was richly endowed. Returning to +America after a number of years--for her first tour of this country +after her London triumphs had been like a whirlwind--Mrs. Dainton had +found herself still viewed with interest, still admired for the great +beauty which had now reached its maturity, and still peevish and +petulant as a result of the fulfillment of her every slightest wish and +whim. Her little eccentricities were always excused by her personal +manager as "Madame's temperament." If an inquisitive newspaper man +wanted to know why Madame had held the curtain until nine o'clock--when +in reality she had merely motored into the country too far and had been +careless of the time--Victor would explain: "Ah, Madame has been +visiting some sick children. She is always so generous, so considerate." +Long experience had made Victor invaluable. His it was to receive the +blame whenever anything went wrong, to excuse to the utmost the +weaknesses of the English actress whenever, as they often did, her whims +seemed likely to affect the box-office receipts. + +Consequently, when Mrs. Dainton and her entourage, passing out on their +way to Sanford Gordon's new ninety horse-power touring car which was +drawn up before the hotel, entered the sun parlor, it didn't in the +least surprise the amiable and considerate Victor to have the English +actress pause, sniff, stamp her foot, and protest. + +"Some one has been smoking here," she insisted shrilly. "Victor, send +for the manager! The same thing happened yesterday." + +"I have already complained once--" began Weldon, shifting the Pomeranian +from the left arm to the right. + +"No matter--complain again. If we cannot have satisfaction, complain a +third and a fourth time. That is what hotel managers are here for--to +listen to complaints." + +Sanford Gordon, the least obtrusive figure of the little cavalcade, and +the one who, for personal reasons, least desired a scene which might +find its way into the newspapers, stepped forward to calm the irate +actress. Once, rumor said, Sanford Gordon had been able to calm her +impetuous spirit, but that had been in days long gone by. Then he had +chartered a private car to be near her on her travels, he had risked an +open scandal by his devotion to the celebrated beauty. Now things were +different. Not only did he not relish the idea of an altercation with a +hotel management, always fraught with sensational newspaper +possibilities which his smart fellow club members in New York might turn +into a jibe or a joke, but his influence with Mrs. Dainton herself +seemed to be waning. + +"Really, my dear Mrs. Dainton," he began softly, "what does it matter? +We do not intend to remain here more than a moment." + +Perhaps for some hidden reason of her own, Mrs. Dainton seemed to find +pleasure in turning upon him suddenly. + +"How do you know how long I may stay here? Perhaps I may wish to spend +the afternoon here," she declared. "Some one has been smoking here, +smoking vile, filthy cigars. Such things affect my voice. And what could +I do without my voice? I couldn't act. I should be penniless. Victor, +you must not let this happen again." + +"I will do my best, Mrs. Dainton," replied Victor. + +"Marky" Zinsheimer, covertly throwing away his cigar, rose and bowed +before the English actress, while the footman stared in surprise, and +Victor seemed aghast at the presumption. + +"I beg pardon, Mrs. Dainton, it was I who smoked," said "Marky." + +Mrs. Dainton surveyed him curiously through her lorgnette. + +"Indeed! You should have known better. I really think you had better +complain to the manager, Victor, about this person." + +"My name is Zinsheimer," bowed "Marky," smiling amiably. "Well-known +first-nighter in New York--go to all the theaters--maybe you've heard of +me. I'm known everywhere along Broadway. Perhaps you may remember I +bought the first box for your opening night last season. Yes, paid three +hundred dollars for it, too," he added proudly, as an afterthought. + +"Really?" repeated Mrs. Dainton, languidly. "Such things do not interest +me in the least. I never think of the sordid details of business--I live +only for my art." + +She passed him by as though he were merely a part of the furniture. +"Marky" gazed at her furtively, but slowly his composure deserted him. +He backed away carefully from this wonderful creation. + +"She lives only for her art, eh?" he murmured softly. "I got you--you'll +die young," he added to himself, as he drew another cigar from his +pocket, ostentatiously lighted it, and strolled out onto the veranda. + +"Victor, is the motor here?" demanded Mrs. Dainton. + +Victor shifted the Pomeranian to the other arm, stepped to the door of +the sun parlor, and reported that the chauffeur seemed to be tinkering +with the car. + +"And must I breathe this horrible atmosphere while that lazy chauffeur +pretends to fix the car? You must discharge him and get another." + +"But I say," broke in Gordon, "the man's the best driver I ever had. I +brought him from France." + +"I don't care if you brought him from Hindoostan," retorted Mrs. +Dainton, coldly. "When I say I will not use him after to-day, I mean +it." Reaching two daintily gloved hands toward the Pomeranian, snugly +ensconced under Victor's arm, the actress grasped its little, fuzzy +head, pressed it to her cheek, and smothered it with kisses. "And my +poor 'ittle Fuzzy-Wuzzy. Must 'oo breafe ze awful smoke, too, bress um +baby heartsums. Ums 'ittle Fuzzy-Wuzzy is mamma's pet, isn't ums?" + +"The motor is ready now, Madame," ventured Victor stolidly. + +Mrs. Dainton handed the dog to Johanna. + +"Wrap the precious darling up warmly, Johanna," she said. "You ride with +me, Victor. Lizette, my cloak. Crawley, you ride in front with the +chauffeur and keep any dust from entering Fuzzy's eyes." + +As the procession started toward the waiting car, Gordon, who followed +close by the English actress, inquired: + +"Where shall we go to-day?" + +"Really, I don't think we shall have room for you to-day, Sanford," said +Mrs. Dainton, somewhat coldly, pausing at the top of the steps while the +maids, assisted by the footman and Victor, helped Fuzzy-Wuzzy tenderly +into the car. + +"That's what you have said for the past three days," Gordon cried +tensely. "And yet I brought my own machine and my own chauffeur out +here from New York just to please you." + +"And you are pleasing me a great deal, Sanford, by letting me go alone." + +"Will nothing I do ever move you?" inquired Gordon. Then, as he saw she +was more interested in the way Johanna was holding the Pomeranian, he +added fiercely: "Once you would have answered differently." + +Mrs. Dainton turned on him, her manner a strange mingling of sadness and +regret. + +"Ah, yes, once," she said softly. "I loved you then without any thought +of the future, and I have paid for it with many, many bitter years of +repentance. Now, after all these years--years when you seemed to have +forgotten my very existence and the thing which you had once called +love--I return to America, praised and honored by those who in the old +days had treated me so lightly, you among the rest." + +"That's not true," broke in Gordon. "I always loved you." + +"But we parted," continued Mrs. Dainton, bitterly. "And if I had +returned, needing your help instead of being able to reject all that you +can give, would you have come to me again?" + +"You know I should have." + +"No, Sanford, we seek only that which is beyond our reach," she said +softly, laying her hand on his arm. "The candle has burned out. Do not +try to relight it. I have been only an incident in your life--" + +"That's not true." + +"Don't you suppose I know about the others?" + +"They were nothing to me. It was you, always you." + +"One who has been through the mill doesn't care to be crushed by the +mill-stones a second time. Take my advice, Sanford--return to New York, +seek out some nice young girl, and marry her." + +"Never!" + +"Really!" Mrs. Dainton laughed lightly as she ran down the steps and was +helped into the car by the vigilant Victor. "Ta-ta, Sanford, I'll see +you to-morrow, or the day after." And in another moment the big, red +touring-car had whirled away, leaving upon the steps the solitary figure +of a tall, dark, good-looking chap of uncertain age, who clenched his +hands tightly, then turned suddenly as a bell-boy passed along the +veranda. + +"Boy!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Tell my valet to pack up at once. I'm leaving for New York to-night." + +"Yes, sir. Very good, sir," closing a responsive palm. "Thank you, +sir." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INTRODUCING MARTHA FARNUM + + +In the cosmopolitan atmosphere of any famous health resort, strangely +contrasting types are often found. Amid the vain, the foolish, the +inebriates and the idle who flocked to the Springs for amusement and +diversion, there were a few who really came to seek health. For three +months, the gay passers-by on the shaded walks near the hotel had +noticed one such, an elderly lady, feeble, gray-haired, evidently +recovering from a severe illness, who invariably occupied a wheel-chair, +the motive power for which was furnished by a most attractive young girl +always clad in simple black. The girl was about nineteen, slender, +graceful, with the clear and partly sunburnt complexion which comes +from life spent much in the open air. Her eyes and hair were brown--her +eyes large and wistful, her hair light and wavy. She wore no jewelry, +and there was no suggestion of color about her costume. Yet there seemed +a certain lightness and gayety in her face which conveyed the impression +that sadness was not a component factor in her life. She smiled as, hour +after hour, she read to the invalid on the veranda, and seemed actually +to enjoy her task of wheeling the chair back and forth to the Springs in +the rear of the hotel. + +Once, when a traveling man who had strayed down to the Springs for a +weekend offered the front clerk a cheap cigar and expressed curiosity as +to the name of the young lady, that obliging encyclopedia explained: + +"Oh, that's Miss Farnum. She's old Mrs. Kilpatrick's companion. No, not +a nurse--sort of poor relative, I guess." + +[Illustration: "OH, THAT'S MISS FARNUM. SHE'S OLD MRS. KILPATRICK'S +COMPANION."] + +Whereupon the aforesaid traveling gentleman, disappointed at the obvious +impossibility of a chance to speak to Miss Farnum, whistled and said: + +"Anyhow, she's deuced pretty. I'd like to see her wearing a real gown." + +Martha's constant adherence to simple black gowns, however, was due to +two reasons. She wanted every one to know that she was there simply as a +companion: it saved her the necessity of pretending, for other girls of +her own age, guests of the hotel, made no advances of a social nature +which would have required reciprocity. Additionally, and even more +important, black was inexpensive and durable. + +For three months, now, Martha Farnum had been the companion of Mrs. +Kilpatrick, a wealthy invalid from Marion, a small town near +Indianapolis. Mrs. Kilpatrick was suffering from sciatic rheumatism, and +her physician had recommended a stay at the Springs. To her objection +that both her sons were too busy to accompany her, and that she knew no +one else who could act as a companion, the doctor had replied: + +"I know a person who will be ideal. Her name is Farnum; she's the +daughter of an old friend of mine who has been in hard luck for three +years. Lives on a farm near here. Martha is the eldest girl in a family +of seven, and I know she'll jump at the chance. You'll find her modest, +well-bred and well-educated, with just two faults"--he smiled at Mrs. +Kilpatrick's hesitation--"she's very pretty and very poor." + +Martha had been sent for, the arrangements made, and she found herself +for the first time in her life living at a real hotel, with all her +expenses paid and thirty-five dollars a month besides. Her duties were +not arduous, for the hotel servants attended to most of Mrs. +Kilpatrick's wants. She, however, read to the invalid, talked, laughed, +sang, pushed the chair around the beautiful walks, and dined with her. +Every afternoon, while Mrs. Kilpatrick took a nap, Martha was free. + +At first the hotel life dazzled her. It almost stunned her. The +transition from life on their humble farm, with all its privations and +discomforts, to what seemed to her a fairyland of lights, music, +beautiful gowns and jewels, and the wasteful extravagance and display of +wealth, seemed unreal and impossible. Back on the farm, as the eldest of +a family of seven, she had worked, endured--and hoped. But in her +wildest dreams she had never imagined such a beautiful escape. No one at +home had had the imagination to understand her. No one, unless perhaps +her father, had even sympathized with her in her dismay, when the panic +three years before had forced the little town bank to close, and a +hail-storm that same summer ruined their crops. For before that they had +intended to send her away to boarding-school at Logansport; she had even +passed her entrance examinations. Then, all that had to be forgotten in +the poverty that had followed. + +Now, for the first time, Martha was seeing _life_. It was new to her; it +frightened her, but still she was learning to love it. + +Mrs. Kilpatrick had been kind, and had grown to be genuinely fond of +her. Thus it was with a touch of sadness that she stopped Martha pushing +the chair up and down the veranda this same autumn afternoon, and +mentioned a subject which she had persistently ignored for three days. + +"Martha, dear, let me speak with you," said Mrs. Kilpatrick, suddenly. +"Bring up your chair," she added. + +"The doctor has told me," continued Mrs. Kilpatrick, "that he thinks a +sea voyage will be beneficial. He suggests that I spend the coming +winter in some warm climate, preferably Italy, and I have decided to do +so." + +Although uncertain as to just how it affected her, Martha could not +restrain her pleasure and excitement at the possible thought of going. +She clasped her hands convulsively, her eyes lighted up with +anticipation, and she cried gladly: + +"Lovely! And am I to go, too?" + +Mrs. Kilpatrick shook her head. "My dear child," she said sadly, "I am +sorry, but I shall be unable to take you. My sister, who is in New York, +is to accompany me," she explained. "I'm afraid I shall have to let you +return home this week. Unless," she added, "you can get something else +to do." + +"I must. I will. To return home now would be to admit defeat. I'll never +do that. And we're all so dreadfully poor. I haven't any right to impose +myself on them, now that I've commenced to earn my own living." + +"Perhaps the doctor can suggest another position for you, child," said +Mrs. Kilpatrick. + +"Perhaps. Anyway, I must make my own living," declared Martha, with +conviction. "Other girls are doing it; I ought to be able to. I'll go +to New York or Chicago or some other big city, and I'll work at--at +something or other," she concluded, rather lamely. + +Mrs. Kilpatrick smiled indulgently at her earnestness. + +"That's the proper spirit, my child," she said. "I'm sure something will +turn up." + +Martha gazed out through the trees, for at that moment the lumbering old +stage-coach came driving up from the little railroad station at the foot +of the hill, with a part of several carloads of visitors who had come on +the afternoon train from the North. She was still thinking rather +dismally of this sudden change in her future when a bell-boy brought a +card to Mrs. Kilpatrick. + +"I forgot to tell you, Martha," broke in the latter, glancing at the +card. "I was expecting a Mr. Clayton from New York. He is a well-known +collector of curios and is coming 'way out here very largely to look at +my collection of scarabs. I feel a little tired now. Won't you see him +for me, Martha, and show him the collection?" + +"Of course, Mrs. Kilpatrick." + +"Show Mr. Clayton here, please," she said to the boy, "and ask him to +wait." Then, as the boy departed, the invalid turned wearily to Martha: +"Take me to my room now, dear, then you can come back with the scarabs." + +George Clayton's thirty-three years sat lightly upon his shoulders, +though a close observer would have noticed that his clean-shaven face +was tanned a trifle more than one would expect, and one might likewise +have expressed surprise to find a slight suggestion of gray around the +edges of his slightly curly hair. The athletic build of his shoulders +and the erect bearing indicated that, while he might not be "the hope of +the white race" from a pugilistic standpoint, he was amply able to take +care of himself in any emergency. + +Clayton's visit to the Springs was two-fold. He needed a rest, for in +the course of a law practice which had developed amazingly in the past +seven years, he had overworked. The only recreations he had enjoyed had +been temporary, the persistent pursuit of a number of fads. Though not +wealthy, his unusual success at law had produced an income more than +sufficient for his needs, and the surplus had been used from time to +time in developing the latter. Just now one of these happened to be +Egyptian scarabs, and the well-known collection of Mrs. Kilpatrick +having been called to his attention, he had decided to take a vacation +and look at them. + +"Are you Mr. Clayton?" + +A slender, girlish figure, clasping a large leather case, stood before +him, and, as he smiled an assent and bowed, extended her hand in cordial +greeting. + +"Pardon me--I expected to see Mrs. Kilpatrick," said Clayton. + +"I am sorry to say she is not well," said Martha. "I am her companion, +Miss Farnum." + +Clayton bowed again and murmured something unintelligible. + +"Mrs. Kilpatrick asked me to show you the scarabs. Afterwards you can +tell her what you think of them." + +"I shall be glad to do so. I shall probably envy them." + +"Mrs. Kilpatrick tells me you are quite a collector." + +"Yes," answered Clayton, slowly. "I have collected almost everything in +my time, except money." + +"It must be interesting," said Martha naïvely, sitting in one of the +easy rockers and opening the case, while Clayton drew his chair +alongside. + +"First it was postage stamps," explained Clayton, picking up one of the +queer little beetles and examining it intently. "But postage stamps +soon proved tiresome. Then came Indian relics, but they lost favor when +I took up antique weapons of war. Then I went in for emeralds and +jewels, but they proved too expensive. I think I have had twenty fads in +the last ten years." + +"But your business--hasn't that suffered?" Martha smiled. + +"Not a particle. I've had a glorious time, and my clients who knew of my +fads thought all the more of me because they fancied I must be a brainy +chap to have them." He laughed. + +"It must be wonderful to do as one pleases," mused Martha, gazing out +among the trees. + +Clayton laughed again. + +"Even that gets tiresome," he said. "The girl in the candy shop never +wants a caramel after the third day. Everything grows tiresome after a +while. Now that I've exhausted my list of fads, a horrible future +confronts me--thirty-three years of age, enough money to supply my +needs, and no new fad on which to waste the surplus. What am I to do?" + +"There's always the Salvation Army," laughed Martha. + +"Yes, or the Anti-Cigarette Society," he responded lightly. + +A porter carrying two large suit-cases, each covered with many foreign +labels, crossed the veranda toward the waiting 'bus at the foot of the +steps. Another man, evidently a valet, followed with more luggage, and +then a tall, distinguished-looking man of uncertain age emerged from the +hotel. He gazed curiously at Martha, but his eyes lighted up with +recognition when they fell upon Clayton. + +"Hello, Clayton, what are you doing here?" he inquired loudly. + +Clayton looked up with just a shadow of annoyance, but, with the +well-bred air of a gentleman, rose and extended his hand. + +"How are you, Gordon?" he said easily. "I haven't seen you since the +Compton breach of promise case." + +Gordon winced at the reminder, but gave utterance to a forced laugh. + +"You toasted me to a turn that time," he admitted. "Do you know, +Clayton, ever since you had me on the witness stand, I've been wanting +to engage you to handle my own business." + +"Thank you," replied Clayton, coldly. "But I don't care for your kind of +business." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I prefer the kind where there is never a woman in the case." + +Gordon laughed again uneasily. + +"I can't help it every time a girl takes me seriously. I offered to +settle handsomely then, but like all these women, they think because I'm +rich I am an easy mark. Now, if you'll see me in New York--maybe we can +come to terms." + +"I fancy not," replied Clayton, briefly. + +Gordon's eyes, even during this brief conversation, had never left +Martha, whose attention was given to her scarabs. + +"Deuced pretty girl!" remarked Gordon, quietly, to Clayton. "You might +introduce me." + +"Are you leaving the hotel?" + +"Yes--in a few minutes." + +"Then I've no objection. Miss Farnum, may I present Mr. Sanford Gordon, +of New York?" + +"Charmed to meet you, Miss Farnum," cried Gordon, extending his hand as +Martha merely bowed. "Sorry I'm leaving the hotel just when I meet the +only interesting person here." Then, aside to Clayton as he bowed to +Martha and passed out of earshot: "Who is she?" + +Clayton coughed ominously. + +"She is the companion of a Mrs. Kilpatrick." + +Gordon's face showed his disappointment. + +"Oh, I say," he murmured. "A paid companion? Anyhow, she's deuced +good-looking." He glanced back at Martha, then turned. "See you in New +York, Clayton, and don't forget my offer." + +"I didn't care to introduce him to you, Miss Farnum," explained Clayton, +after Gordon had driven away in the 'bus. "He's not the sort of man I +should care to have any girl know well." + +"Oh, it's of no consequence," laughed Martha. "I have heard of him. The +Sunday papers have printed lots of stories about his little attentions +to actresses. He's been with that English actress here most of the +time." + +"He generally is with some kind of an actress," admitted Clayton. + +"Mrs. Dainton, I mean. Is she such a great actress?" + +"Well," sparred Clayton, carefully examining another scarab, "opinions +differ as to her greatness." + +"But she must make an awful lot of money," insisted Martha. + +"She _spends_ an awful lot." + +"Isn't that the same thing?" + +"Not always. You have to get the money before you can spend it." + +"Then she has another income, like Mrs. Kilpatrick, I suppose?" + +"She probably has another income, only it's not quite the same. In +fact--But I don't think we had better worry about her, Miss Farnum." + +"But I'm interested. Perhaps--why, perhaps I might go on the stage +myself, some day," added Martha, suddenly, as an afterthought. + +"You go on the stage?" laughed Clayton. "Nonsense!" + +"I don't see why it is nonsense," cried Martha, rising to her feet so +suddenly that Clayton had only time to grasp the case of precious +scarabs in time to save them from a fall. "I must do something, and from +what I have seen of theatrical people here at this hotel, they all have +plenty of money. Even that Miss Forsythe, who dresses so loudly, earns a +lot." + +Clayton leaned back in his chair and laughed. + +"My dear child," he tried to explain, "I know the girl you mean. She's a +show-girl in New York. I saw her at the station just now when my train +arrived. To see her in that elaborate costume, you wouldn't believe that +her salary is just twenty dollars a week, would you?" + +"Twenty dollars a week?" + +"Yes. She's in the chorus." + +"But how can she afford to stay at this hotel on such a salary?" + +At that Clayton coughed and began to sort out the scarabs. + +"She probably also has an--er--independent source of income," he +stammered. + +"Could I get twenty dollars a week on the stage?" inquired Martha, +thoughtfully, not noticing his confusion. + +"Very likely, if you are willing to start in the chorus," replied +Clayton. + +Martha clenched her fists with determination. + +"Why, I'd start at the very bottom; I'd work like anything, to succeed," +she said tensely. + +Clayton closed the case and rose to his feet. + +"Really, Miss Farnum, I didn't know you were so much in earnest about +it," he explained. + +"You see, my service with Mrs. Kilpatrick ends in a few days," said +Martha, simply. "She is going to Italy, and there is nothing left for me +to do but return home, and our people are too poor and I must earn a +living to help them." + +"So you really want to go on the stage?" said Clayton, thoughtfully. "I +wouldn't advise it. There are too many dangers, too many temptations." + +"Do you think I care for the dangers?" cried Martha, almost +contemptuously. "All of the temptations are not on the stage. The +department stores, the shops, the offices--why not think of them? Girls +work there, hundreds and thousands of them. But the moment a girl +mentions the stage, some one cries out about the temptations. It's +absurd." + +The fiery outburst of the young girl startled Clayton, who realized that +in an argument on this theme he was likely to be worsted. Moreover, he +was placed in the unenviable position of being obliged to argue against +a course which he felt sure would be disastrous, or at least difficult, +while during their short talk he had grown to be genuinely interested in +Martha. Like a prudent general, he sought safety in retreat. + +"About these scarabs," he began, "I should like to speak to Mrs. +Kilpatrick." + +Martha's thoughts, however, so suddenly directed to a new channel, were +difficult to concentrate on anything so mundane as scarabs. It was +several seconds before she recollected herself and answered his +question: + +"Oh, yes," she repeated. "Mrs. Kilpatrick is in parlor A. She said she +would be glad to see you a little later." + +Clayton bowed. "And I won't say farewell," he said, "as I'll surely see +you at dinner." + +"The stage," repeated Martha, dreamily, after he had gone, sinking into +one of the large chairs and placing both hands to her throbbing temples. +"The stage. Why not? Why not?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A GLIMPSE INTO THE PAST + + +"This is the sun parlor, Pinkie," cried Flossie, ushering in the girl +who had just found a haven of refuge and a sanctuary for the penniless +at the Springs. "My word, but we do put on style at this rest-cure. I'm +having the time of my young life." + +Pinkie Lexington gazed around her, and sighed with relief. The +well-dressed women in the distance made her instinctively think of her +own somewhat bedraggled tailor-made suit, badly wrinkled from the train +journey. Even at its best, it suggested the "Take me home for $12.99" +signs of the bargain counters. Furthermore, Pinkie's hat was of the +early spring vintage, and the ribbon was faded. Her pride and her glory +had always been her hair, large blond masses of which protruded from +beneath the rim of her straw hat, but a visit to a hair-dresser was a +luxury Pinkie had not known in months. Added to this, Pinkie had become +unusually heavy--and therefore always in need of the most perfect +grooming in order to keep up appearances--and it may be easily +understood that she was not appearing to the best advantage. This fact +Flossie had noticed with keen inward delight, for her own smartness and +prettiness naturally took on added luster when placed in contrast with +poor Pinkie's poverty. + +But Pinkie sighed with contentment. Notwithstanding a few personal +deficiencies of dress and adornment, it was a relief to be in a hotel +where one could be assured of three excellent meals a day. + +"It's grand to be in a real place after those awful one-night stands," +sighed Pinkie. "But I'm afraid I won't really enjoy it--I'm on a diet." + +"What?" inquired Flossie. + +"I'm reducing," insisted Pinkie, sadly. + +"Why didn't you go on a diet last week when you were broke?" demanded +Flossie. "Now, you are here as my guest, and if you don't eat I'll be +insulted. Just wait until I introduce you to Mr. Zinsheimer." + +"I'm just dying to meet him," said Pinkie, demurely. "_Feathers_, isn't +it?" + +"One of the biggest importers in New York," said Flossie, proudly. "He's +a real gentleman. Nothing but wine." + +"I know I shall like him," repeated Pinkie. + +Flossie peered at her chum suspiciously, and then laughed. + +"Well, don't like him too much. I saw him first." + +Pinkie's large eyes almost filled with tears. + +"Why, Flossie, how can you? I'm sure I don't want to steal your +gentleman friend." + +Flossie put her arm affectionately around Pinkie's somewhat large waist +and laughed. + +"Never mind, dear, I was only joking. Of course you know it is +understood that Mr. Zinsheimer and I are to get married as soon as my +lawsuit is settled." + +Zinsheimer himself entered at this juncture, and Pinkie was formally +introduced to the generous feather importer. She started to cry as he +patted her hand cordially, holding it just a trifle longer than was +absolutely necessary, and thereby eliciting a warning look from the +alert Flossie. + +"Oh, Mr. Zinsheimer, it's such a relief to meet a real gentleman," cried +Pinkie, half in tears. "Honestly, I could almost hug you for your +kindness to a poor little shipwrecked, stranded girl. I am so helpless +and alone." + +"There, there, now, don't cry," protested "Marky." "Your Uncle Marky +will see that you don't go hungry this trip." + +At this point Flossie dexterously inserted herself between the couple +and coughed until "Marky" let Pinkie's hand drop. + +"Didn't I say you'd like him, Pinkie?" she observed sharply. + +"Let's go over and play roulette," suggested Zinsheimer. "Maybe we can +win enough to get Pinkie a new outfit, eh?" And he looked doubtfully +over the somewhat worn suit which was poor Pinkie's only possession. + +At that Pinkie sobbed audibly. "I'm sorry to disgrace you," she wailed, +"but the horrid manager of the hotel in Indianapolis wouldn't let me +take my trunk until I paid him seventeen dollars and forty-five cents. +And where could I get all that money?" + +Zinsheimer patted her hand encouragingly. "Come over to the Casino," he +whispered. "We'll try our luck at the wheel." And with Flossie clinging +to his right arm and Pinkie to his left, the genial feather importer +started toward the Casino. At the head of the stairway the trio almost +collided with Mrs. Dainton's footman, who was carrying the Pomeranian. +Close behind came Mrs. Dainton herself, her maids, and her manager. +Zinsheimer whispered to the girls quickly. + +"That's the English actress," he said quietly. "I once knew her, but we +don't speak now as we pass by. Let's be real supercilious." + +So, as Zinsheimer and the girls passed by ostentatiously, Pinkie and +Flossie, taking their cue, broke forth into peals of merry laughter, +while Zinsheimer so guided the party that Mrs. Dainton had to step to +one side to avoid Flossie's rattling chatelaines. + +Mrs. Dainton sank into an easy-chair, and Victor hurriedly adjusted the +cushions for her comfort. + +"I beg Madame's pardon, but when shall we leave?" inquired the +obsequious personal manager. + +"I don't expect to leave at all," replied Mrs. Dainton, sharply. + +Anxious to get her back to New York, Mrs. Dainton's manager hoped this +last annoyance would move her. + +"But the rehearsals for your new play," he said. + +"Wire the New York management to send the company out here. We will +rehearse here." + +Weldon could not refrain from an audible expression of despair, being +for a moment dumbfounded at the thought of the expense. Neither Mrs. +Dainton nor her manager noticed that a young girl in a simple black +gown, who had evidently been searching for a magazine left in one of the +chairs, had heard what they said. + +"But if the players don't suit--" expostulated Weldon. + +"Send them back to New York and get another lot." + +"But that will be very expensive." + +"What of that?" inquired Mrs. Dainton, languidly. "It's not my money." + +Weldon hesitated and then bowed. + +"Just as you say, Madame," he said weakly. "I will wire the New York +management." And scarcely able to conceal his indignation at this latest +whim, Weldon withdrew to telegraph their New York backers the full +details of her latest eccentricity. + +Martha Farnum, still holding the magazine she had recovered, hesitated. +Then, struck by a sudden thought, she came forward timidly to the famous +actress. + +"May I--may I speak to you just for a moment?" she asked nervously. + +Mrs. Dainton turned in surprise, looked her over carefully from head to +foot, and asked carelessly: "Who are you?" + +"My name is Martha Farnum, and--" + +"Well?" + +"I heard you just now--" + +"It isn't a nice thing to listen." + +"But I couldn't help it--" + +"You mean I spoke so loudly?" + +"No--but you spoke so distinctly--" + +Mrs. Dainton smiled with pleasure. "The critics always said my voice +carried well, and that my enunciation was perfect," she said, flattered. +"Well, what can I do for you, my dear?" + +Martha hesitated and stammered. "I--I am anxious to go on the stage," +she faltered. + +"What can you do?" inquired Mrs. Dainton. + +"I cannot tell until I have tried," confessed Martha. + +"You mean you have had no experience? I'm sorry, but I've made it a rule +never to give any young girl her first engagement on the stage." + +"But why?" gasped Martha. + +"Because I don't approve of their going on the stage." + +"Yet you yourself have won success," argued Martha. "And you must have +started some time." + +Motioning Martha to bring a chair and sit beside her, Mrs. Dainton +leaned forward impulsively and took her hands in her own. + +"You don't know all that my success has cost me, my dear," she said +simply. "Success is a wonderful thing, but the road to it is paved with +temptations." + +"I know all that, but surely there must be some way to overcome the +obstacles," insisted Martha. + +"I once thought the same," mused Mrs. Dainton, with a far-away look in +her eyes. "But there came a time when I hated myself, and all the world. +Shall I tell you a story, my dear?" + +"I would love to hear it," replied Martha, earnestly, gazing into the +eyes of the elder woman. + +"Once there was another girl, like you: young, ambitious, innocent," +began Mrs. Dainton, softly. "She, too, was poor and wretched. But some +people called her handsome. As so many others have done under similar +circumstances, she turned toward the stage. She commenced at the very +bottom in the chorus of a London musical production. The company she was +with came to America, and little by little she progressed, but oh, it +was such hard work and the poverty was so grinding. Her salary was +almost nothing. Soon, in this strange country, she was in debt. The +landlady of her boarding-house was kind for a week or so, but the girl +was hopelessly involved. Then, one day, a note came to the theater. She +opened it, and found inside--a hundred-dollar bill." + +"A hundred-dollar bill?" repeated Martha, wonderingly. + +"Yes, without a word of explanation. The girl didn't know what to do +with the money. She could not return it. She finally spent it." + +"A hundred dollars!" repeated Martha. + +"A few nights later came another note. Another hundred-dollar bill. A +third and a fourth followed. Flowers, diamonds, a love-letter, and last +of all--a man." + +"A man?" repeated Martha, curiously. + +"The man had a fortune. The girl was penniless. She couldn't repay the +money, for she had spent it. The man was kind, courteous, +good-looking--in short, just the kind of man to win a girl's heart." + +"And so they were married?" ventured Martha. + +"No, my dear." Mrs. Dainton shook her head sadly. "They did not marry. +He gave her everything money could buy, and she, poor fool, accepted it. +When the inevitable happened, when the man left her without a word of +farewell, she reaped the bitterness she had sown. But the experience +gave her renewed energy. She was determined to triumph in spite of it. +And she did. She succeeded. Years afterward she met that man again. She +saw him humble himself a second time before her feet and beg her love +in vain." + +"That was splendid," cried Martha, clasping her hands. + +"It was the only punishment she could inflict," added Mrs. Dainton, +bitterly, rising to her feet and beckoning to her maid. "He had made her +suffer deeply, and though she had been proud of her success, the +proudest moment of her life was when she publicly humiliated the man who +had deceived and wronged her in the past." + +Martha rose to her feet, and held out her hand in sympathy. + +"I am so sorry, Mrs. Dainton," she said simply. + +"Sorry, my dear child?" repeated Mrs. Dainton, cheerfully. "Why need you +be? That was what happened to a friend of mine, and that's why I will +not help you or any one else to go on the stage." + +"But surely," cried Martha, desperately, "some people succeed without +pain and unhappiness?" + +Mrs. Dainton kissed the girl affectionately. + +"You are young, and like all young people, you flatter yourself that you +will be the exception," she said. "Good-bye, my dear. I dare say all my +advice will be wasted, for if it is in the blood, if you have the call +of the footlights in your soul and the fire of ambition in your heart, +nothing can stop you in your career; neither the advice of an old woman +nor the experience of others. Good-bye, my dear. Au revoir." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +STRICTLY A BUSINESS BARGAIN + + +Clayton found Martha in a corner of the veranda ten minutes later, in a +brown study. + +"Here, this will never do," he began cheerfully. "Is it as bad as that?" + +Martha looked up with an attempt at cheerfulness. + +"It is of no consequence," she said simply. "You wouldn't understand." + +"Am I so dense as all that?" he protested. "Any one with half an eye +could see that you are in trouble, and I'd like to help if I can be of +any assistance." + +Martha looked up at the lawyer hopefully. "Mr. Clayton," she said, "Mrs. +Kilpatrick says you are from New York. I've never been there. A few +moments ago I said I wanted to go on the stage, and you laughed at me. +Now, may I ask you seriously for your advice, and will you give me a +serious answer?" + +Clayton sat down by her side. "Fire away," he commanded. + +"In the first place, I have firmly decided to go on the stage," +explained Martha. "I have great ambition, I have been told that I read +well, and I must make a living somehow. That settled, the only problem +is the way to go at it. Will you advise me?" + +"But you are not cut out for that sort of life," protested Clayton. +"You--you should marry--you'll find more real happiness there." + +"Have you done that?" inquired Martha. + +"That's different. I'm a man." + +"Oh, yes, and being one, you think we women can't get along without +you." + +"No one can live happily without love." + +"If you have success, you don't need love," insisted Martha. + +"My dear child," Clayton tried to explain, "the greatest success means +nothing if the right person does not share it with you." + +Martha rose to her feet proudly. + +"I will risk its meaning nothing if I can only have it." + +"Do you mean that?" inquired Clayton, looking at her. + +"Yes." + +"And you have made up your mind that you must have a career?" + +"Absolutely." + +Clayton half laughed at her earnestness. + +"Have you any money?" he asked suddenly. + +"No," admitted Martha, reluctantly. "That is, not much." + +"Then how will you begin?" + +"I don't know." + +"You will find money very necessary." + +"I'll manage somehow," declared Martha, with conviction. + +Clayton gazed at her curiously for a few moments. Something about the +girl must have struck him as being distinctly out of the ordinary. Twice +he started to speak, but each time hesitated as though uncertain what to +say. "I've got an idea," he blurted out finally. + +Martha turned toward him inquiringly, but did not speak. + +"I'll assist you," explained Clayton. "Suppose I lend you the necessary +capital for you to go to New York and live until you meet with this +success you are determined shall come to you?" + +"Oh, but I couldn't let you do that," protested Martha. "People might +talk, and anyhow, I am determined to succeed on my merits, if at all." + +"Wait," interrupted Clayton. "This is a cold-blooded business +proposition. If a man opens a store, he must have capital to start with. +If a miner goes prospecting, he must have some one 'grub-stake' him to +start--that is, give him food and money to last until he strikes pay +dirt. In any venture it is the same; capital is necessary--why not let +me capitalize yours? After you succeed, you can pay back the original +investment, with regular business interest." + +"But if I fail--you have no security." + +"That's my risk. Besides, I've another reason. I have spent enough on +the different fads I've had to send a dozen girls through college. I've +wasted thousands of dollars collecting useless things like old postage +stamps and antiques, but never once has it occurred to me to collect +samples of character." + +"I don't quite understand." Martha's eyes were wide open in amazement. + +"Your attitude toward success interests me." + +"I'm sure it is justified," insisted Martha. + +"That remains to be seen. It is understood that I will start you on +this career purely as a business proposition. But if I am to furnish the +money, I must have the controlling interest in the partnership. You are +to be absolutely guided by what I say, to be responsible to me, and to +follow my advice in all things." + +"Won't I even have a minority vote?" pouted Martha. + +"Yes, but the presiding officer can overrule you any time he wishes. In +other words, I shall be practically your--your--" + +"What?" + +"Your guardian. But remember--if I start you on this life where you will +be plunged at once into the vortex of all that is fascinating and +attractive, you will perhaps find many admirers. No dragging Love along +with Success if we should meet him on the way." + +Martha clapped her hands gleefully. + +"I shall be too busy cultivating Success to even recognize Love if I +should meet him," she cried gaily. + +"Good. Then it's down with Love?" + +"Yes," responded Martha. "And up with Success." + +"Then that's settled," responded Clayton, in a businesslike tone, +looking at his watch. "And now I think we'd better get some dinner." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"WHERE EVERYTHING IS HOMELIKE" + + +"If there's one thing I'm proud of about my boarding-house," insisted +Mrs. Anderson, when discussing the _pension_ for vagrant Thespians which +she had conducted for many years, "it's the homelike atmosphere. Makes +folks feel at home right away, the moment they set foot in my parlor." + +Mrs. Anderson, commonly called "Aunt Jane" by the professional patrons +who came back to her hospitable roof year after year, was justly proud +of the affection and esteem in which she was obviously held. A motherly +old lady of not less than fifty, a widow with no children, Mrs. Anderson +devoted her entire time to maintaining an establishment which should be +unique. Actors as a rule dread boarding-houses. There is something about +such institutions which instinctively causes a chill of apprehension to +run up and down their backs. Especially is this true of boarding-houses +which advertise that they cater to the theatrical profession. But the +instant image of cheapness, squalor, ill-kept rooms and badly cooked +food, which is conjured up by the mere mention of "theatrical +boarding-house," has no relation to Aunt Jane's. + +Hers was different. It is hard to tell how, but when once a visitor +entered her front parlor it seemed different from all the rest. +Old-fashioned in some respects, it was strictly up to date in others. +There was no red table-cloth on the table, no gilt-framed chromos on +wooden easels, no landscapes in glaring colors on the walls. Instead, on +the piano, on the mantel, and even on the walls, one found neatly framed +photos of theatrical celebrities, which, as one could see upon close +examination, were autographed, with here and there a few homely +sentiments of good wishes "To Dear Aunt Jane." + +Mrs. Anderson's establishment, in fact, was one of the last of a fast +disappearing type of boarding-house, the extinction of which will never +be regretted in spite of the natural sorrow at the passing of a home +with so many virtues as that presided over by the estimable "Aunt Jane." +But modern apartment hotels, in which excellent accommodations can be +had for the same price one formerly gave for a hall bedroom, are +numbering the days of the old brownstone front boarding-houses in the +neighborhood of the New York theatrical district. Mrs. Anderson's was +but a stone's throw from Broadway, in a house which had once been a +feature of the social life of the city; but day after day now, the grim +sound of exploding dynamite in neighboring streets came as a warning +that modern skyscrapers and steel buildings were gradually supplanting +the older structures. + +For twenty-three years Mrs. Anderson had conducted her homelike +establishment. As keenly alert to business now as formerly, Mrs. +Anderson was careful not to let her house deteriorate. Which explains +why, on a certain Saturday afternoon in mid-winter, she was busily +engaged in personally superintending the rearrangement of the parlor +furniture and the placing of certain photographs on the mantel and the +piano. Lizzie, the maid of all work, entered with a card, for Mrs. +Anderson had been so absorbed in her work that she had not heard the +bell ring. + +"Arthur Mortimer, leading juve_nile_," read Lizzie, as Mrs. Anderson +turned toward her. "He's in the hall. Say, what's a juve_nile_?" + +"Refers to the kind of work he does," responded Mrs. Anderson, sharply. + +"Work?" repeated Lizzie, astounded. "Why, he's an actor." + +The unconscious sarcasm of the remark was passed unnoticed by Mrs. +Anderson. + +Mr. Mortimer turned out to be a pleasing young chap, smartly but not +expensively dressed, about twenty-two years of age, and very nervous. He +twirled his derby in his hands, and seemed quite embarrassed when Mrs. +Anderson beamed a cordial welcome upon him. + +"I--I am looking for a room," began Mortimer. "I was referred to you." + +"Are you in the profession?" inquired Aunt Jane, motioning toward a +comfortable arm-chair. + +"I graduated last June from the dramatic school, but I haven't done much +yet. I couldn't afford expensive rooms--" + +"That's all right, Mr. Mortimer," interrupted Aunt Jane. "I like to have +beginners. They pay their bills. And I only want refined people who +behave themselves. Of course a little impromptu frivolity makes every +one feel at home, and if there's one thing I always try to do, it is to +make my house homelike." + +"I'm sure it is that." + +"Yes, sir. A real home, especially for the lonely young girls I have +living with me here. Why, I have one young lady staying here now who is +under my _special_ protection. The gentleman who sent her to me said he +knew of my reputation, and that he wanted me to be a _real mother_ to +her." + +"I hope I may be admitted into this happy family," ventured Mortimer, +smiling. + +"I'm so proud of his trust in me," continued Aunt Jane, evidently +started on a pet theme, "that I never let that girl out of my +sight--except, of course, when she's at the theater. And I have to +telephone him every day and tell him what she's doing. But how I run +on--here's Lizzie, who will show you some of the rooms. Did you want a +big room or a small room?" + +"That depends on the price," stammered Mortimer, rising. + +Lizzie had handed Mrs. Anderson a telegram, and stood waiting for +instructions. + +"Lizzie, show Mr. Mortimer the vacant rooms on the third and fourth +floors front," directed Aunt Jane, tearing open the dispatch. "Oh, by +the way, Mr. Mortimer, do you happen to have a photograph you can let me +have?" + +"My photograph?" repeated Mortimer, surprised and flattered. "I have +some in my trunk." + +"If you come with us I'll want to include yours in my collection of +famous actors," explained Aunt Jane. + +"But I'm not famous--" protested Mortimer. + +"Never mind--you will be some day. You see all these photographs of +celebrities"--she waved her hand--"all of these people are with me now, +except Maude Adams, Ethel Barrymore and one or two others. Somewhere in +this house I have a photograph of every actor or actress who ever stayed +here. Fifteen years and more I've kept them. Many a famous star of +to-day gave me a photograph years ago, when only an unknown lodger in my +happy little home." + +"I'll sure bring you one," cried the delighted Mortimer. As he started +toward the hall, with Lizzie as his guide, Mrs. Anderson called after +them: + +"One moment, Lizzie," she cried, holding the telegram. "Mr. Lawrence is +coming from Boston this evening and wants his old room. Be sure and have +it ready." + +"Yes, ma'am," responded the ubiquitous Lizzie. + +"And just a moment," continued Mrs. Anderson, in a confidential tone, +beckoning to the slavey. "Go up to the garret and get me that large +picture of Mr. Lawrence we had on the piano last time he was here." + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Here, take this one with you," added Aunt Jane, craftily, picking up a +photograph of a blond man with curly hair. "It's Jimmy Carlton--he's +gone to California and won't be back until spring. Put this one away +with the others. And see that Mr. Lawrence's picture is nicely dusted. I +want him to feel at home when he comes in and sees it on the piano." + +Mortimer, who was busily looking at the photographs, suddenly saw one he +recognized. + +"Isn't that Flossie Forsythe?" he inquired. + +"The very same," answered Mrs. Anderson. "She's staying here, too--she +and her chum, Miss Lexington. Lizzie, show Mr. Mortimer the house--and +Lizzie," she added confidentially, "recommend the fourth floor front. It +ain't no more, but the bath always rents the third easier." + +Half a moment later, with Lizzie on the fourth floor, the bell rang +again and this time Mrs. Anderson herself was compelled to answer it. A +messenger boy with a large box of flowers stepped into the hallway. Mrs. +Anderson took the box and looked at the card. + +"For Miss Farnum?" she sniffed. "Humph! This is the third time since +Sunday she's had flowers from somewhere. Who sent them, boy?" + +The snub-nosed Mercury gazed up at her and winked. + +"How d'je t'ink I knows de guy's name?" he retorted. + +"Impudent!" replied Aunt Jane. + +"An' say, lady, I got a note also for Miss--Miss Farnum." + +"Give it to me, then, you young rascal." + +"Nixey." The boy shook his head and winked again. "Told me to give it to +Miss Farnum 'erself." + +"But I can give it to her." + +"Maybe my eye's green, too," answered the messenger. "De gent who give +me dis said give it only to her. If she ain't in, I got to come back +when she is." + +"Miss Farnum is not in," declared Aunt Jane, indignantly. "And you're a +rude, disrespectful boy, to speak so to your elders." + +"Well, say, when will her nibs get back?" + +"In about half an hour," retorted Aunt Jane, slamming the door on him +and taking the box into the parlor. Once there, she peered curiously at +the box. It was only an ordinary florist's box, but a big one, and it +evidently contained costly, long-stemmed American Beauties. There was a +small note attached to the box, with the name "Martha Farnum" on the +envelope. + +Mrs. Anderson debated about five seconds whether or not it was her duty +to examine the note. Of course she had no right to look, but she +concluded that her position as Martha's temporary guardian demanded that +she examine carefully anything that would throw light upon the person +who was sending so many flowers to her young charge. + +"There's a card inside, sure, and perhaps a name," she argued, with easy +sophistry. "It's my duty to look. Some young spark is trying to make +love to Martha under my very nose." + +She nervously tore off the envelope, opened it and took out a card. She +read it and threw up her hands in disappointment. The card was blank, +except for the written words: "From your unknown admirer." + +"Hello! Blooms! For me?" cried Flossie Forsythe, resplendent in furs and +a large picture-hat, bursting into the room just as Mrs. Anderson +replaced the card. "Pinkie, look at the flowers some one sent me," she +added, turning to summon the sad-eyed Miss Lexington, who still appeared +dejected and deserted as she stood in the doorway, last season's +walking-suit hanging unevenly from her highly developed figure and +appearing a trifle tight in certain spots. + +"I suppose Marky sent them," said Pinkie, dropping upon the sofa in +disgust. "I wish some guy would slip me a beef-steak over the footlights +some time instead of flowers." + +Mrs. Anderson politely but firmly rescued the flowers from Flossie's +clutches. + +"For Miss Farnum," she said coldly, taking the box to the piano out of +harm's way. + +"What rot," ejaculated Flossie. "I never seen a girl get so many +flowers." + +Pinkie sighed. "I haven't had an orchid this season," she said sadly. + +"Never mind, dear," cried Flossie, sinking onto the sofa by her side. +"Wait until the new show goes on, and we both make hits. You'll be +covered with flowers." + +"It will take some flowers to cover me," responded Pinkie, surveying her +ample girth with regret. "But what gets me, is how Martha Farnum wins +out with the boobs who send her flowers. Why, she ain't got no style. +And she's only a beginner in the chorus, too." + +"But they do say she's made the biggest hit ever known in the Casino +since I left last spring," drawled Flossie, carelessly. + +"Pity you didn't stay, dear," smiled Pinkie. "But then, of course, you +weren't in the chorus." + +"I should say not," cried Flossie, indignantly. "I haven't been in any +chorus for two years. It's sextettes or nothing with me hereafter, and +you know I don't have to work." + +"How's your lawsuit coming on?" inquired Pinkie, innocently. + +"Oh, the lawyers are still fighting." + +"Where is this lawsuit, anyhow?" + +"Oh, somewhere out in British Columbia. You wouldn't know the name of +the town if I told you. If I win, I am going to star in musical comedy." + +"And if you lose?" + +[Illustration: "I HAVN'T HAD AN ORCHID THIS SEASON."] + +"Back to the sextette, I guess, unless Mr. Zinsheimer will star me." + +"Where is 'Feathers'?" yawned Pinkie. "Haven't seen him for a week." + +"Never you mind where he is," retorted Flossie, suddenly turning to her +chum, suspiciously. "You've been askin' too many questions about Mr. +Zinsheimer lately. Don't you be ungrateful. Remember all I did for you." + +Pinkie almost cried at this unjust insinuation. "Why, Flossie," she half +sobbed, "I don't want Marky. The idea of thinking I'd want to steal him +away from my dearest friend." + +As Flossie consoled Pinkie and apologized, Mrs. Anderson approached a +delicate subject nervously but with a determination strengthened by the +memory of many similar occasions. "Young ladies," she began, "I hope you +haven't forgotten about our little account." + +"It shall be settled this evening, without fail," replied Flossie, +rising haughtily. "I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you, but you +shall have a check after dinner." + +"You know I am perfectly willing to let the bills run on," explained +Mrs. Anderson, with that ever-present doubt that one always has in +dunning delinquents, "but neither of you young ladies has been trying to +get a position." + +"Not trying, indeed," repeated Pinkie. "We go to the managers' offices +every day, but the horrid brutes will not see us." + +"But look at Miss Farnum," said Aunt Jane. "She came here without +experience, and secured an engagement instantly." + +"Yes, in the chorus," sneered Flossie. "Fancy us in the chorus," rising +and glancing admiringly at her well-rounded figure. "I want lines." + +"But Martha didn't mind the chorus," cried Mrs. Anderson, warmly. "She +began at the bottom, and if I do say it myself, I am proud of the way +she has succeeded." + +"Succeeded?" repeated Flossie. "I guess she has, if you judge by the +number of times messenger boys bring her notes and flowers and presents. +I'll bet there's a diamond tiara hidden in those flowers now." She moved +toward the box, picked it up curiously, and lifted the top. "American +Beauties, eh?" she added. "I counted the number of messenger boys who +came here yesterday to see Martha, and how many do you think there were? +Seven." + +"I half believe she sends the things to herself," pouted Pinkie, +maliciously. + +"She couldn't, my dear, on eighteen dollars a week in the chorus," +laughed Flossie. "There's no use talking, Aunt Jane--Martha may have +been a little wild-flower when she blew into New York from the woods of +Indiana or Ohio or wherever it was, but one thing you must give her +credit for: some one must be awfully stuck on her." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A HUNDRED-DOLLAR BILL + + +Martha walked home from the theater. It was after the matinée, in early +winter, the period of the year when upper Broadway is the most wonderful +street in all the world. Crowds of smartly dressed women and +well-groomed men surged to and fro; taxicabs and private limousines +darted in every direction; the clanging of the gongs of the street-cars +and the shrill cries of newsboys added to the general confusion; and the +lights of a thousand electric signs glared brilliantly in the +semi-darkness of early nightfall. Shop windows tempted the passer-by +most alluringly, and Martha gazed longingly into many of them, but shook +her head resolutely at the mere notion of purchasing anything. This was +New York. This was life. At last she, Martha Farnum, an insignificant +atom from a remote country town, was on Broadway, actually a part of +Broadway life, for she was the second girl from the end in the new +Casino production, "The Pet of Paris," and for more than four months now +had been thrilled, fascinated and enthralled by the lure of the stage. + +During all these weeks, she had lived quietly and regularly at Mrs. +Anderson's boarding-house. Clayton had met her at the Grand Central +Station when she arrived in New York and had taken her to the place, +introducing her to Mrs. Anderson in words which she had resented, though +she had realized at the time that he was quite justified in his demands. + +"Miss Farnum will be in your charge," he had explained. "It is +understood that she is to do exactly as you direct in all things. She is +not to accept dinner invitations from any one, she is to come straight +home after each performance, and she is to go nowhere unless you +accompany her." + +These galling restrictions were now, however, beginning to prove +irksome. Youth cannot be chained too tightly without tugging at its +bonds. So it was with Martha after four months of the free-and-easy +associations behind the scenes, where even the best behaved girl will +talk of the little supper at which she was a guest the night before. In +fact, the hard work of rehearsals and the unusual hours which the stage +requires its people to adopt, often made Martha wish that she, too, +could have the freedom and the privileges which the other girls in "The +Pet of Paris" enjoyed. + +Consequently, when she arrived home this particular afternoon and threw +herself into a large easy-chair, utterly tired, and just a little +regretful that she had to dine in the somewhat gloomy, old-fashioned +house, it was not with the greatest pleasure in the world that she +prepared to answer to the usual cross-examination of well-meaning but +sharp-tongued Aunt Jane. + +"Did you come straight home after the matinée?" inquired the latter. + +"Of course," answered Martha, sleepily. "There was such a crowded house. +And so many encores, I am dead tired." + +"You seem much later than usual?" + +"Now, Aunt Jane, don't ask so many questions. It's Martha this and +Martha that and 'Martha, where have you been?' all day long, until I am +beginning to get sick and tired of it." + +"It is all for your own good, and you know whose instructions I am +carrying out." + +"I know," pouted Martha, regretfully. "But don't you think he is a +little unreasonable? How could a bit of supper after the show hurt any +one? Other girls go." + +"Has your 'unknown admirer' been asking you to dine with him?" inquired +Mrs. Anderson, sharply. + +"My 'unknown admirer'?" repeated Martha, blankly. "Whom do you mean?" + +"The one who sent you these flowers," cried Aunt Jane, bringing the box +to Martha, who gazed in surprise at the splendid roses. + +"More flowers, and from a man I have never spoken to," exclaimed Martha, +reading the note. + +At this moment Lizzie opened the door from the hall and entered. + +"If you please, ma'am, that messenger boy is here again," she said. "He +wants to see Miss Farnum herself." + +"It's the boy who brought the flowers," explained Aunt Jane. "He has a +note he won't give to any one but you." + +"How exciting," cried Martha. "Do have him in." + +Messenger No. 109 winked his eye maliciously at Mrs. Anderson, and +tipped his cap respectfully to Martha, whom, from the directions +regarding his note, he evidently deemed a person of some importance. +Martha opened the envelope, and a yellow-backed bill fluttered to the +floor. Mrs. Anderson gasped, Lizzie stared, and the messenger boy +politely picked it up and returned it to Martha. It was a hundred-dollar +bill. + +"Is dere any answer, lady?" inquired 109 stolidly. + +Martha hesitated. She looked at the envelope again, then looked at the +piece of paper which had enclosed the hundred-dollar bill. + +"No," she said simply. "Yes--wait a second." + +The boy paused at the door, and Martha whispered a few words into his +ear. "Do you understand?" she asked. + +"Betcher life," cried 109. "I'm on, lady, I'm on." And with a merry +whistle and another wink at the excited Aunt Jane, 109 made a dignified +and breezy exit, followed by the surprised Lizzie. + +[Illustration: "MORE FLOWERS AND FROM A MAN I HAVE NEVER SPOKEN TO."] + +"Well," said Mrs. Anderson, grimly, sitting with her arms folded, "I'm +waiting." + +"Waiting for what, Aunt Jane?" inquired Martha. + +"For an explanation of this extraordinary scene. Who sent you that +money, and what do you intend to do with it?" + +Martha half laughed at her earnestness. + +"I can't tell you just now, Aunt Jane," she said. + +"But I must know. When Mr. Clayton brought you to me, he asked me to +look out for you, and I mean to do so." + +"And so you have. You've been everything that you could be, dear and +thoughtful, but it's got so I'm the laughing-stock of the entire +company. I daren't take a step out of this house but you must be fully +informed about everything I do and everywhere I go." + +"Mr. Clayton wishes to know." + +"If Mr. Clayton wishes to know, why doesn't he come and ask me? He +hasn't been here more than twice in the past four months. Am I to blame +if I wish some innocent amusement? He never thinks of me, and when some +one else does seem to take an interest in my affairs, and show me a +little attention, am I to blame if I like it?" + +"You are to blame for accepting hundred-dollar bills." + +"But I haven't accepted them yet. I haven't been able to return them +before this--" + +"What? There were others?" + +"For the past six weeks a messenger boy has brought me a note every +Saturday. Each letter contained a hundred-dollar bill." + +"Great heavens!" Aunt Jane collapsed on the sofa. "And wasn't there any +name signed to the letters?" + +"Only the words 'From your unknown admirer.' I could not return the +money, for I didn't know his name--until now. This letter I have just +received gives his name." + +"Who is it, dearie?" inquired Aunt Jane, confidentially, coming to +Martha's side. "Perhaps I know him." + +"His name is--but there, it doesn't matter." Martha turned away and put +both letter and hundred-dollar bill into her handbag. + +"It does matter," cried Aunt Jane, indignation and curiosity battling +for supremacy. "This is a very serious thing. If a strange man sends a +young girl hundreds of dollars, why, he must be crazy about you. Did he +send you anything else?" + +"A few trifles--some jewelry." + +"Has he asked you to marry him?" + +"What nonsense," laughed Martha. "He has only asked me to dinner." + +"You must not go, Martha," said Aunt Jane, decisively. "You know Mr. +Clayton wouldn't like you to take dinner with other gentlemen." + +"Then why doesn't Mr. Clayton take me to dinner himself?" she cried +passionately. + +"Mr. Clayton has other things to do." + +"Then he must not blame me if I dine with some one else." + +"I refuse to let you go, Martha." + +"And how will you keep me, please?" demanded Martha, petulantly, not +because she really desired to break her covenant with her self-appointed +backer, but merely to see what steps he might take if she gave evidence +of breaking her parole. "Will you lock all the doors and keep me a +prisoner?" + +"Never mind," replied Aunt Jane. "Is this unknown admirer coming here to +see you, or did you send him word to meet you on the street corner?" + +"I sent him word to come here," replied Martha, indignantly. "I have no +need to meet him elsewhere. I have nothing to be ashamed of." + +[Illustration: "I REFUSE TO LET YOU GO MARTHA."] + +"Very well, then," retorted Aunt Jane, going toward the library, as the +back parlor was ambitiously named. "I'll telephone Mr. Clayton and say I +wash my hands of you. If he wants to keep an eye on you, he will have to +do it himself after to-night. I'll send for him at once." + +"You'll send for him?" cried Martha, gladly. + +"I'll telephone him to come as fast as a taxi can bring him," declared +Mrs. Anderson. "I guess that will bring you to your senses." + +"I hope it does," murmured Martha, softly, burying her face in the +fragrant flowers. And to herself she added: "I wonder if he'll come?" + +"Come right in, Mr. Zinsheimer," cried the shrill voice of Pinkie +Lexington in the outer hall. "I saw you clear across the street and +hurried down the back way," she continued, leading him into the parlor. +"Flossie has just gone out, but maybe, if you wait, she'll come back +soon." + +"Well, I don't mind if I do," declared Marcus Zinsheimer, shedding his +great fur coat and peering curiously at Martha, who busied herself with +her flowers by the piano. "Who's that?" he added softly. + +"That's Martha Farnum," whispered Pinkie. "She's at the Casino and that +haughty--but I'm going to be friends with her." + +"As though two chorus girls could be friends," interrupted the knowing +"Marky." + +"I'm _not_ a chorus girl," corrected Pinkie. "And anyhow, she has a very +wealthy admirer who might star her, and if he does I'd like to be in her +company. See?" + +"Oho! That's the racket, eh?" laughed "Marky." "You may be right. A ton +of money, an ounce of sense, a pretty girl and a love-sick angel have +made many a star in the theatrical firmament." + +"And while it lasts, I might just as well be in the push," added Pinkie, +wisely. "Gawd knows I need the money." + +"Marky" surveyed Pinkie carefully. + +"Why is it you are always so hard up, Pinkie?" he inquired. "You ought +to be able to get a good engagement, but I say, there ain't much style +about the way you dress. What I like is style--real flashy style--lots +of color and ginger." + +"I'm sorry I'm so poor," sobbed Pinkie, plaintively. "But I can't help +it, Mr. Zinsheimer. You know the company stranded and I haven't had +anything to do since. It's very kind of you to be so considerate, Mr. +Zinsheimer. Would you mind if I call you 'Feathers'? That's what I +always call you to Flossie." + +"Well, if you call me 'Feathers,' I won't call you _down_," replied +"Marky," laughing laboriously at his own joke. "But now I'll tell you +what we'll do. Flossie's out and won't know anything about it, so let's +you and me jump into a taxicab and go down to some of the shops. We can +just make it before six o'clock, and I'll buy you a lot of fancy things. +Eh, what?" + +"Eh, what?" almost shouted Pinkie. "Do you mean it?" + +"Do I mean it?" insisted "Marky." "Sure. I've got a taxi waiting +outside. Will you come?" + +Pinkie rose majestically to the occasion. Drying her eyes, and looking +anxiously at the parlor clock for fear that it might already be time for +Flossie to return before she could get into the taxicab, she grabbed her +coat, without even waiting to get a hat, seized "Marky" by the arm and +dragged him toward the hallway. + +"Will I?" she repeated. "Watch me, kid." + +[Illustration: "I'M SORRY I'M SO POOR" SOBBED PINKIE.] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +SANFORD GORDON REAPPEARS + + +A smart limousine car darted across Broadway, turned the corner, and +drew up before the door of Mrs. Anderson's boarding-house. A tall, dark, +good-looking chap, whose erect figure was completely enveloped in a +fur-lined overcoat, emerged, and walked briskly up the steps. Lizzie +answered the bell, and started back in surprise when the stranger calmly +stepped inside, closed the door, slipped her a dollar bill, and said +quietly: + +"Take this card to Miss Farnum. She is expecting me." + +"Yes, sir," stammered Lizzie. "Will you wait in the parlor, sir?" + +"So this is where she lives?" mused the visitor, shaking his head as he +looked around the neat but poorly furnished room, with its supply of +theatrical photographs and the large picture of Arnold Lawrence, leading +man, on the piano. "I'll soon get her out of this miserable hole." + +Martha Farnum entered, her step so light that he did not hear her until +she touched his arm and extended her hand in greeting. "Mr. Gordon!" + +"I received your message," cried Sanford, turning quickly and clasping +her hand with such fervor that Martha unconsciously sought to withdraw +it. "I'm glad you remember me." + +"I remembered the name," explained Martha. "You are a man so much talked +about that it is not strange a little country girl should remember the +time she first met so celebrated a personage. But when you sent me the +note to-night, I realized for the first time that it was you who had +been sending me so many presents." + +"Only a few trifles--" + +"And so I wanted to see you." + +"That was kind of you," replied Gordon, as they sat on the sofa. "I have +been wanting to see you all these weeks, but somehow I didn't know how +to begin. Finally, to-night, I decided to write you a little message and +see if you remembered me." + +Martha turned toward him frankly. + +"I want to know the meaning of your remarkable presents," she said, with +the utmost ingenuousness. + +Gordon laughed a trifle, as though to dismiss the matter. + +"Nonsense," he declared. "They weren't so very remarkable. A few +presents and a little pin-money which I thought might come in handy for +a girl getting a small income." + +"Such presents would be appreciated by some girls," replied Martha, +offering him a small packet which she had held in her hand, "but I have +no right to take them." + +"Then you haven't spent anything?" exclaimed Gordon, in surprise, +looking at the roll of yellow-backed bills and the half-dozen trinkets +which she returned to him. + +"Not a dollar. I would have returned them sooner, but I didn't know who +the mysterious donor was." + +"Please keep the money, Miss Farnum, and the other things. They mean +nothing to me, and think of the comfort and pleasure they can bring +you." + +"I have no right to accept anything from you." + +"Then take the money for some one else. There must be some pet charity, +some deserving chorus girl who has a sick mother, some fresh-air fund +you want to contribute to. Please don't ask me to take back things so +freely given." + +"No, I cannot take it," replied Martha, firmly. + +Gordon twirled his moustache nervously and peered curiously at her. Here +was a case, indeed, one which the fastidious Sanford had never +previously encountered. A chorus girl to refuse money and presents? +Unprecedented! How the chaps at the club would chaff him if he ever told +the story. He--the best-known boulevardier of Broadway, a welcome guest +at every Bohemian gathering, who called actors and managers by their +first names and was the most flattered and most sought after member of +that queer white-light society of night revellers which regarded the +setting of the sun as the dawning of a new day--he, Sanford Gordon, +virtually flouted by an obscure chorus girl whom he had deigned to honor +with his attentions? Why, the thing was unbelievable. + +"Are you in earnest?" he demanded. + +"Certainly," replied Martha, rising. "I cannot be under obligations to +you or any one else, especially in money matters." + +"Listen, Miss Farnum," cried Gordon, coming to her. "My conduct may seem +strange to you. Call it a whim, if you like. But since I saw you that +first night at the Casino, I have wanted to be friends with you. Can't +we be friends?" + +"Friends? Why, of course," replied Martha, sincerely. + +"You want to succeed in your profession. Let me help you." + +"What could you do?" + +"I know the manager pretty well, for one thing. Victor Weldon is going +to make a few new productions this season, and if I asked him to give +you a part, he would probably do it." + +"But I want to succeed on my merits," insisted Martha. "If I am to win +success, I must deserve it. I should be ashamed and humiliated if I +secured an engagement through influence, and then failed." + +"But why refuse influence?" protested Gordon. "It gives you the +opportunity, and that is something every one must have. Many a clever +actor and actress is walking Broadway to-day without an engagement, +simply because of lack of opportunity. Now, if Weldon offers you a part +in his new production at the Globe Theater, you won't refuse it, will +you?" + +"No, I wouldn't do that," pondered Martha. "But do you think I could +play a small part?" + +"Of course you can, and anyhow, never give up without a trial. Weldon +might even offer you the leading rôle if the part suited you." + +"The leading rôle?" gasped Martha. "Impossible!" + +"Not at all," continued Gordon. "I happen to know that in his new +production the leading rôle is that of a simple little country +girl--just the sort of ingénue you were when I first met you at French +Lick. The songs are simple. In fact, it's a little play with songs--not +a big musical production. Your very simplicity and naturalness would +make you splendidly suited to the rôle." + +"It sounds like a dream," cried Martha, wonderingly. "Are you sure Mr. +Weldon would ever give me a trial in the part?" + +Gordon came close to her. "If I ask it," he said impressively and with a +queer inflection of his voice which Martha did not understand. "If I ask +it, the thing is done. Come out to dinner with me and we'll talk it +over." + +Martha's heart sank. "I'd like to, really," she said wearily, "but I've +never been out to dinner before, and Aunt Jane would be furious if I +went." + +"You are not responsible to--your Aunt Jane, as you call her--are you?" + +"No, but--" + +"There isn't any one else, is there?" + +"Yes--no--that is--" + +"I thought you were here alone?" + +"I am alone," replied Martha, with a sudden outburst of rebellion +against the conditions with which she had surrounded herself. "I am +responsible to no one and can do as I please. Still--" she hesitated +tearfully, "I don't think I'd better go." + +"I've got my car outside. Come up to Rector's and have a bite. I'll +drive you to the theater afterwards." + +"Oh, I'd love to," cried Martha. "I wonder if I dared." + +"Of course. Come along." + +"But I couldn't go in these clothes," exclaimed Martha. "I'd have to +change--I've got a little evening frock I used to wear to dances back in +Indiana. Oh, I'm sure there can be no harm, and even if Aunt Jane is +angry, it will blow over by to-morrow." + +"Of course. How soon will you be ready?" + +"In twenty minutes." + +"I'll drive over to the club and return for you. I'd wait here only +these boarding-house parlors are so public. And that reminds me--you'd +better move to some other place where you can have some comfort and +decent surroundings." + +"I'm sure this is very nice, and all I can afford," replied Martha, +with some show of spirit. + +"Oh, you can afford better quarters when Weldon engages you to-morrow," +replied Gordon. "Your salary will be bigger, of course. Hurry up and +change your togs. I'll wait out front in the car when I return." + +Three minutes later, Martha was still standing alone in the otherwise +empty parlor. Indecision was written on her face. Gordon had gone, but +still she made no move toward her room and the changing of her gown. The +outer door had slammed, and Flossie Forsythe entered with the usual +harmonious accompaniment of the rattling chatelaines. + +"Hello, Martha," cried Flossie. "Wasn't that Sanford Gordon just got in +his limousine in front of the house? Came from here, too. I saw him just +as I turned the corner." + +"Really?" replied Martha, coldly, moving toward the door. "I suppose +you know him better than I do," she added, as she left the room. + +"Humph," murmured Flossie. "Stuck-up show-girl." + +"Where's Pinkie?" inquired Mrs. Anderson, entering to light the gas. +"Hasn't she returned yet?" + +"Has Pinkie gone out?" inquired Flossie, munching a caramel. + +"Yes. She drove off in a taxicab with some man half an hour ago. I +thought he was a friend of yours." + +"Pinkie drove off in a taxicab with a man?" Flossie fairly shrieked in +amazement. "Will wonders never cease?" + +"I couldn't see who it was," explained Aunt Jane, as the door-bell +announced another visitor. "But I know it was a man." + +"D'je ever hear the like of that?" Flossie shook her head wonderingly. +"Seems to me I'm getting the double cross." + +"Well, if it isn't Mr. Lawrence," cried Mrs. Anderson, in the hallway, +ushering in a distinguished-looking individual with crisp, curly, dark +hair, a smoothly shaven face, an elegant bearing and a far-away look in +his flashing, dark eyes. "I'm so glad to welcome you home again--for you +know I like to feel that all my guests are, after all, members of a +happy little family." + +"And glad I am to be back in your hospitable house," responded Lawrence. +"What's this I see? My photograph?" he added, beaming with delight and +gazing admiringly at the large photo on the piano. + +"If we cannot have you, Mr. Lawrence," declared Mrs. Anderson, +feelingly, "it pleases us to always have your photograph before us." + +"The good lady is devoted as ever to me," thought Lawrence to himself. +Aloud: "Ah, this is indeed a home for us actors, my dear Mrs. +Anderson--a real home." + +[Illustration: "AND GLAD I AM TO BE BACK IN YOUR HOSPITABLE HOUSE."] + +"This is another member of our family," explained Aunt Jane. "Miss +Flossie Forsythe, Mr. Lawrence." + +"How do you do?" Lawrence curtly acknowledged the introduction. + +"I seen you in Harlem once," replied Flossie, admiringly. "I recognized +you at once by your photograph." + +"Indeed? I believe my features are somewhat familiar to the general +public." + +"Oh, I'm in the profession, too," added Flossie, proudly. + +"Indeed? The chorus?" + +"Why, the idea--" + +"For my part, I am not one of those who regard the chorus as a +legitimate branch of the acting profession. It is something beyond the +strict limits of our art, like the scene painter, the property master, +the musician. The actor is a thing apart." + +Flossie collapsed on the sofa as he disappeared into the hall with Mrs. +Anderson. "Well, wouldn't that give you tonsillitis!" she ejaculated. + +The door from the hall was suddenly thrown open as though Hercules had +brushed it aside as he would a fly, and Pinkie Lexington burst into the +room looking like a rainbow. In place of the old, dilapidated traveling +suit, she wore a smart new gown of purple velvet. A hat with a gorgeous +purple plume almost concealed her face, and round her shoulders hung an +elaborate set of furs. Close behind this gorgeous apparition was "Marky" +Zinsheimer, a trifle nervous and ill at ease at suddenly finding so many +persons around. + +"Hello, everybody," cried Pinkie. "How do you like my rig?" + +"Pinkie!" shouted Flossie, aghast. "Is it really you?" + +"For the love of Heaven!" declared Mrs. Anderson, following her in and +clasping her hands together in mute admiration. + +"Stunning, by Jove!" Even Arnold Lawrence was moved to positive +admiration. + +"I'd like to see the manager who refuses me an engagement when I drag +these togs into his office," cried Pinkie, proudly pirouetting to show +the outfit from all sides. + +"You look like ready money, my dear," gasped Flossie. "But where on +earth did you get the junk?" + +"Never you mind," replied Pinkie, obviously embarrassed. + +"Mrs. Anderson said you went out riding in a taxi with a man," said +Flossie, wonderingly. Then, as her eyes for the first time fell on +Zinsheimer, who was trying to edge toward the door and escape unnoticed, +she sprang to her feet, pointed her finger at the shrinking "Marky," and +screamed: "With him?" + +"None of your business," retorted Pinkie. + +"Marky, have you been out with Pinkie?" cried Flossie. "Answer me." + +"That's the man. Certainly," declared Mrs. Anderson. + +"Well, what of it?" stammered "Marky." "I just took Pinkie down to a few +of the stores, and there you are." + +"Oh, you cat!" cried Flossie, stamping her foot and clenching her fists. +"You hypocrite!" + +"Now see here, I thought you girls was friends," began Zinsheimer. "Kiss +and make up, girls." + +"I won't call any one names," responded Pinkie, with the air of a +martyr. "She has insulted me, but I will forgive her if she apologizes. +Marky, tell her to apologize." + +"Never!" cried Flossie, swinging in a circle so abruptly that the +rattling chatelaines shot out at an angle of forty-five degrees. "I will +never speak to her again, or to you either, Marky Zinsheimer. I'm +through with both of you. In all my stage career this is the crowning +disappointment. Oh, the degradation! To be cut out by a fat blonde!" + +"Marky" Zinsheimer edged toward the door. + +"This," he declared, "is where Marky Zinsheimer exits smilingly." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +LOVE AND AMBITION + + +"And I can't do a thing with her," concluded Aunt Jane, in her recital +of Martha's shortcomings, while Clayton listened with an amused air at +the story of his ward's latest adventure. "She's headstrong and +unreliable, and though I love her as I would my own daughter, I think it +is time for you to talk to her seriously. When a chorus girl commences +to receive hundred-dollar bills and diamonds, she can't stay in my house +until I know who sends them, and why. That's all. That's why I +telephoned you to come right over." + +"I'm glad you 'phoned me, Aunt Jane," said Clayton. "I missed a pretty +important business engagement at dinner to be here, but I gathered from +your message that something important had developed. I fancy Martha will +tell us all about it. After all, it's no crime to admire Martha. I +admire her myself. The change in her has been wonderful. I had no idea +when I first brought her here that a few months in New York would result +in such swift development." + +"It's been swift all right, Mr. Clayton. I'll tell her you're here." + +Clayton awaited Martha's coming with mingled emotions of pleasure and +regret, pleasure at seeing her, for he had grown genuinely to like and +admire her; regret, for he feared she was beginning to find her +self-imposed bonds a trifle wearisome. In that case, of course, their +compact would be at an end, for, though their arrangement had not +contemplated any incident which would lead to a breaking of their +contract, it was obvious that Martha could not expect him to ignore +calmly a violation of it. His own self-respect made this impossible. He +would have to protest, and by protesting, perhaps lose completely any +influence he might have over her. + +The months that had passed since he first agreed to finance Martha's +venture into the realm of theatricals had been months of uneasiness. +Time and again he had resolved to visit her, talk with her, find out +what progress she was making; yet each time he feared he might inject +too personal an interest into these inquiries. That had been their +agreement: "Down with love and up with ambition." He had warned her of +the wayward influences of love at a time when the possibility of caring +for her himself had never entered his head. "I suppose," he had said to +himself a dozen times, "she'll fall in love with some actor and marry +him without even bothering to let me know." This idea first awakened the +possibility that he might keenly regret such an indiscretion on her +part. Then came the ardent desire to see her himself, advise her, and +protect her from the pitfalls of her profession. But he had dismissed +this as a subterfuge invented by himself as an excuse for seeing her. + +"No," he had concluded. "I will stick by my bargain. I am making an +experiment in character development, and I will not let my personal +sentiment affect my judgment as a business man. I agreed to aid her +until she can become self-supporting, or admits that she is a failure. +So long as she keeps her part of the contract, I will keep mine." + +Another and more powerful reason for absenting himself from all +neighborhoods where he might meet her, and especially from Mrs. +Anderson's boarding-house, was the fear that she might consider him in +the light of a benefactor to whom she was under obligations. This galled +him--to think that she might be outwardly cordial while secretly bored. +For Clayton was modest enough to believe that his unassuming airs and +reticent ways would not prove attractive to a high-spirited girl so +many years his junior. + +"What a surprise," cried Martha, entering the parlor suddenly. She was +dressed for the street. In fact, had Clayton been a few minutes later, +he would have missed her altogether, for Aunt Jane had announced his +visit just in the nick of time. + +"Hello," said Clayton, greeting her cordially. "What's the trouble +between you and Aunt Jane?" + +"Trouble?" repeated Martha. "There isn't any." + +"Then what did she mean by telephoning that you were getting a bit too +wild for her?" + +"She dared to say that?" exclaimed Martha, indignantly. "Oh, and so she +telephoned you to come and--and tame me--I suppose?" + +"Not exactly that," replied Clayton, smiling. "She did 'phone me, but +that was only in accordance with my instructions. I have always felt +that, as I am responsible for your being in New York, it was my duty to +look after you. But that is only part of our agreement, you know. I was +to advance you all the money necessary, keeping a strict account of +every penny, and you in return were to take my advice, and when you +became famous--repay the loan." + +"When I become famous?" mused Martha, sinking onto the sofa. "I wonder +if I ever will?" + +"Of course," cried Clayton, encouragingly. "And I want to help you all I +can." + +Martha turned her large eyes toward him appealingly. + +"Then why don't you come to see me oftener?" she asked softly. + +"That wasn't in the agreement," smiled Clayton. "And I hardly thought +you'd have any time for a mere man." + +"After all you've done for me, it would be strange if I didn't _take_ +time for you," replied Martha. Clayton shifted uneasily as she spoke. + +"That sounds like 'Thank you, sir,'" he said. + +"And I have to stop work sometimes, _to eat_," added Martha, +maliciously, and glancing at him as though trying to convey a subtle +hint. "And I hate to eat _alone_. I hate to eat dinner at Aunt Jane's +_all_ the time. I've wanted to go out to dinner so many times since I've +been in New York, but I _never_ had any one invite me, until to-day." + +"Hm! That's the cause of the row with Aunt Jane?" + +"She didn't like the idea." + +"Some masculine admirer, of course?" + +"Yes, he is," replied Martha, defiantly. + +"Who is he?" + +As she turned away without response, Clayton added: "Martha, who is he?" + +"One you yourself introduced to me," she replied shortly. + +"I?" He pondered a moment, surprised. "Not Sanford Gordon?" he said +finally, and only by an effort suppressing a faint "Damn." + +"Yes," declared Martha. "I am going out with him to dinner now." + +"Not with my consent," declared Clayton, emphatically. + +"And why not, please?" + +"For many reasons," he said, sitting beside her. "Frankly, how long has +this been going on?" + +"About three months, if you must know," replied Martha, bristling a +little at his inquisition. + +"Have you seen him often?" + +"To-day was the first time." + +"He has written to you?" + +"Yes." + +"Sent you presents, I suppose?" + +"A few pieces of jewelry. Every week he has sent me an envelope. Inside, +with a blank piece of paper, was a hundred-dollar bill. I never knew +until to-day who sent them." + +"What have you done with these things?" + +"I handed them all back to him, in this room, half an hour ago. I told +him I could accept nothing from him, but finally I agreed to go to +dinner with him to-night. He's probably waiting out front now, in his +car." + +Clayton rose to his feet nervously and paced the floor. + +"What else did he say?" he inquired. + +"He was very nice and respectful. He offered to speak to Mr. Weldon, the +manager, and get me a new part--perhaps the leading part--in his new +production." + +"So that's his little game, is it?" said Clayton, still more annoyed. +"Money and jewels returned, his next bribe is an engagement. How do you +know you could play the part?" + +"I might succeed," pouted Martha. "And even a star who tries and fails, +can never forget that she did star--once." + +"And so your success means more to you than anything else that life can +offer?" + +Martha's eyes were still fired by the light of her ambition. "Yes," she +said. + +"If you please, Miss," interrupted Lizzie, entering at that moment, "Mr. +Gordon is outside in his car, and wants to know if you will be ready +soon." + +"Tell him--" began Martha. Then she hesitated, looking doubtfully at +Clayton, who came close to her as though awaiting her decision on a +momentous matter. + +"Martha," he asked, "are you still determined to keep this dinner +engagement with Gordon?" + +"Why not?" Martha seemed to take a keen delight in arousing his +displeasure. "There's no harm in it, and Mr. Gordon has been very kind +to me." + +"As he has been to the others--before you," said Clayton, bitterly, +almost savagely. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Never mind. If I can't convince you without blackguarding him, I'll let +you go. I only ask you to trust me, and believe that I am doing my +best--for you." Clayton paused doubtfully. "If you hate to eat dinner +alone," he added suddenly, as an afterthought, "so do I. Martha, come +with me." + +"But I promised Mr. Gordon. He's waiting." + +"But remember, you have a contract with me." + +"Yes," replied Martha, half angrily. "With a friend. Not a jailer. +Good-night." + +Martha started toward the door, but Clayton raised his hand and she +hesitated, as he blocked the way. + +"Well?" she demanded defiantly. + +"You can choose between him and me," declared Clayton, hotly. "But +you've got to choose. If you go with him, breaking your contract, I wash +my hands of the whole business. Now, choose." + +Martha met his gaze squarely, half angrily, half contemptuously. Then +she turned to the waiting maid. + +"Lizzie," she said, clearly and distinctly, "ask Mr. Gordon--" Yet, even +as she spoke her voice faltered, she looked at Clayton, and added, +dropping her eyes, in an almost inaudible undertone: "--_to excuse me_." + +Clayton took her arm eagerly, and she looked up again into his face. + +"You brute," she said, but she laughed when she said it. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE UNDERGROUND WIRES + + +The sign on the door of Suite 1239 in the Knickerbocker Theater Building +bore the legend, in plain black letters: + + VICTOR WELDON + + Theatrical Manager + +Suite 1239 was really two small rooms, an outer and an inner office. The +outer office, overlooking busy Broadway, which seethed and simmered its +hurrying crowds far below, was divided into two parts by a railing. On +one side two long benches served as havens of rest for weary stage-folk +in search of engagements. Ever and anon one, two, or even three +players, perhaps chorus girls, perhaps actors, perhaps character women, +would enter timidly, look around the office as though expecting the +imperial Jove to hurl thunderbolts at them for their presumption in thus +invading the sacred precincts, and then tremblingly ask the red-haired +stenographer on the other side of the rail: + +"Is Mr. Weldon engaging any one?" + +And the red-haired stenographer, invariably without looking up from her +machine, would reply: + +"Nothing doing to-day." + +Sometimes this routine would vary a trifle, in case Mr. Weldon, for +reasons of his own, wished to have his office appear like a busy mart. +Then the stenographer would say: + +"Mr. Weldon is very busy now, but if you want to wait, perhaps you can +see him." + +This left-handed invitation, containing only the slightest ray of hope +that perhaps the great manager would engage some one for something, was +invariably pounced upon eagerly, for actors undergoing that sad daily +routine known as "making the rounds," knew to their sorrow that +invitations even to sit down and wait were few and far between. The +"Call to-morrow" slogan was the more usual excuse in getting rid of +applicants. In a profession as overcrowded as the theatrical business +there are thirty applicants for every possible position, but still the +unsuccessful ones keep on "making the rounds" on the chance that sooner +or later they will be engaged. + +Mr. Weldon's private reasons for wishing his outer office to be filled +at certain times possibly had something to do with the fact that on +these occasions certain smartly dressed, prosperous men called on +business and were instantly admitted to the inner office. Then the +stenographer, having had her cues, would drop some casual remark about +"The backer of the new show," whereupon the professionals would become +more alert at the prospect of "Something doing." Of course, conversely, +the mysterious "backers" were impressed by the stage setting of an outer +office of players looking for engagements from the great Mr. Weldon. + +Contrary to the popular idea, based mainly on the comic weeklies, +theatrical backers or "angels" are comparatively rare. Therefore, Victor +Weldon's line of procedure since Mrs. Dainton had abruptly closed her +American tour because of the illness of her Pomeranian pup, had been +exceedingly uncertain. He had planned various productions on his own +account, and he had endeavored unsuccessfully to interest certain +financial gentlemen of the Wall Street district in the merits of two or +three plays he had read. One of them in particular, a simple little +comedy of peasant life in Germany, with two or three songs, had greatly +impressed him. It was of Viennese origin, skillfully translated and +adapted, but preserving the Viennese atmosphere and characters. Entitled +"The Village Girl," the central rôle was that of a peasant girl who fell +in love with a prince when the latter was hunting in disguise as a mere +woodsman. Afterwards, meeting him at the state ball face to face in his +gorgeous uniform, she, by renouncing her love for him because of his +rank and title, ultimately led the old Emperor to relent and give his +consent to their marriage. + +"Good plot," murmured Weldon, after reading it in his private office. +"The old stuff like this always goes with the public. There's a plot +that must succeed, because it has never been known to fail. I can +produce this play and make a barrel of money if I can only find a +backer. I wonder if I couldn't rope Gordon in on this?" + +Which explains why Sanford Gordon had already heard of the play at the +time he renewed his acquaintance with Martha, and further explains the +fact that three days later he was closeted with Weldon in the inner +private office of Suite 1239 in the Knickerbocker Theater Building. + +"It will cost about twenty thousand cold, before we ring up the +curtain," explained Weldon, skillfully calculating with the aid of a +pencil and a pad of paper. "It will take about seven thousand for the +production, including costumes and uniforms. Everything is Viennese this +season, so we must get the correct atmosphere. Advertising and printing +may take up two or three thousand more, and then we'll probably have to +guarantee at least twenty-five hundred to the theater we select. I'd +like to get a classy theater like the Globe, where they have ushers in +English military uniforms, and society people always go there because +some one tipped them off that it was _the_ society theater of New York. +But it might take a little more money to get the Globe." + +"Get the Globe by all means," said Gordon. "A few thousand more or less +mean nothing if the thing is a hit, and if it is a failure, I guess I +can stand the loss quite as well." + +Victor Weldon sprang to his feet excitedly. The "roping in" had been +easier than he anticipated, for Sanford Gordon, in spite of his +propensity for squandering wealth in certain directions, belonged to the +category of "wise people." No one ever wasted postage to send him +green-goods catalogues, and Weldon had been extremely doubtful of his +ability to get Gordon as a backer, although, of course, he had enjoyed +unlimited opportunities to win his confidence while acting as Mrs. +Dainton's manager. + +"It's the chance of a lifetime," Weldon thought to himself as he clasped +Gordon's hand to bind the bargain. + +"I'll have the necessary legal papers drawn up by my lawyer," explained +Gordon. "The money will be deposited with the Commercial Trust Company +to-morrow morning. You will handle this production exactly as though it +is your own--with one exception, my dear Weldon." + +"What is that?" asked Weldon, apprehensively. + +"You will engage for the leading rôle a young lady I will designate--" + +"Ah, now I understand--" began Weldon, smiling. + +"--who will have no inkling whatever of the fact that I am the backer of +this show. In fact, no one must know that I am furnishing the money. +Furthermore, at any time I see fit--if, for instance, the young lady +cannot, in my judgment, play the part satisfactorily--I reserve the +right to stop the whole production _instantly_, merely paying the +necessary bills. Do you understand?" + +"But you wouldn't close the show if it's a hit, would you?" demanded +Weldon. + +"I'm not likely to close the show at all," he laughed. "But I have +reasons of my own for reserving that right. Otherwise, however, you are +the manager, owner, producer and director. Do as you please, my dear +Weldon, but remember the terms of our compact." + +"I am not likely to forget them," cried Weldon, enthusiastically. "But," +he added nervously, "can the young lady you wish me to engage really act +the part?" + +"I don't know and I don't care," responded Gordon. "The fact remains +that she is going to play the part, and if she doesn't know how to act, +teach her. That's all." + +Weldon shook his head sadly. + +"I had hoped, after my experience, Mr. Gordon, that I was through with +those bloomers where they try to force an unknown on the public," he +sighed. "But I know you too well to try and argue that a well-known +actress of reputation would help the piece and perhaps make it a hit." + +Gordon picked up his silk hat and balanced it with one hand while he +took his cane and gloves from the desk. + +"It is immaterial to me, Weldon, whether the piece is a hit or not," he +said carelessly. "Of course, I sincerely hope, for your sake, that it +proves a success. But I won't shed any tears if it isn't. Like the +respected founders of the New Theater, I am not producing this play to +make money. I am simply endeavoring to give a certain young lady a +chance to play a star part in a Broadway theater. If she has the merit +to succeed, so much the better, for her sake and for yours. But +personally I don't give a damn--so long as I pull the strings." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN THE GREEN-ROOM + + +Time: Three months later. + +"Half hour! Half hour!" + +The resonant cry of the call-boy, making the rounds of the +dressing-rooms of the Globe Theater, penetrated to the great empty +green-room, immediately adjoining the star's dressing-room. Downstairs, +from the musicians' room, came the sounds of the scraping of violin bows +across the strings, the occasional toot of the French horn or the +preliminary notes from a flute. Through the green-baize doors leading to +the stage came the sounds of shifting scenery as the stage hands set the +first act of "The Village Maid." A curtain was half drawn across the +entrance to the adjoining star's room, behind which the faithful Lizzie +of the boarding-house, now transformed into a real maid for an actress, +was busily engaged preparing the toilette articles and the costumes of +Miss Martha Farnum, actress. + +Messenger boy 735, his diminutive figure almost hidden beneath a +gigantic box of flowers, was escorted through the baize doors by old +Pete, the back-door watchman. + +"Put 'em down there, sonny," directed Pete, pointing toward a couch in +the green-room. "And then vamoose quick. I got to watch the door, 'cause +Miss Farnum ain't come in yet." + +Number 735 deposited the flowers as directed, carefully cut the strings, +opened the box, and was in the act of breaking off a fine American +Beauty when Lizzie fortunately caught sight of him from the +dressing-room. + +"Here, you thief. Don't you dare," she cried. + +"I only wanted one, lady," replied 735. "Gee, if I was an actress with +all them blooms, I'd be glad to slip one of them to a kid who's going to +sit up in the gallery and applaud your old show." + +"Are you going to see the play?" asked Lizzie. + +"Betcher life. A man give me a ticket and four bits to sit in the +gallery and clap everything." + +"What--everything?" queried Lizzie. + +"Well, everything our leader does. There's forty of us kids, all got +gallery tickets free and fifty cents on the side. And say, when Miss +Farnum comes on the stage, you bet she'll hear us yell. We got orders to +raise de roof den." + +"You awful boy," cried Lizzie, genuinely shocked. "Here, take the rose, +but don't tell any one about your free tickets. Miss Farnum won't care +to have any one know the audience is paid to clap her." + +"Aw, quit kidding me," responded 735, moving toward the stage. "Why, we +sees 'most all the New York shows that way for nothing. We get paid to +clap, even if the show's rotten. Don't try to kid me, baby." + +"It's wonderful what you learn when you go on the stage," murmured the +horrified Lizzie, after she had chased 735 into the darker regions of +the stage. "I wonder what's keeping Miss Farnum?" she added +thoughtfully, as she returned to the dressing-room. + +Weldon, clad in immaculate evening clothes, and accompanied by an +unobtrusive young chap wearing a dinner coat, a gray vest, a gray tie +and a small derby, strolled back behind the scenes to make sure +everything was all right for the opening. This was really Weldon's most +ambitious attempt. For years he had served in a business capacity with +many stars, and occasionally he had produced things on his own account, +but never before had his bank-roll assumed proportions which would +justify him in leasing the exclusive Globe Theater. If the new +production made good it would be the making of him as a manager as well. +Consequently he was in delightful spirits. + +His companion was a trifle more subdued, for upon his somewhat boyish +face there was a cloud of anxiety. He was keen, alert, almost +deferential in his attitude toward the manager, but a certain +experienced air suggested that behind his youthful appearance there was +dynamic energy and a fund of vitality which might burst forth at any +moment. He was Phil Hummer, the press agent of the Globe Theater, a +former newspaper man who, as he often expressed it, "quit writing for +the papers because he found he could make more money as a press agent." +For weeks he had been assiduously informing the public, through such +newspaper mediums as he could persuade to print his effusions, of the +importance of Miss Martha Farnum's approaching stellar début--for in +the new play, be it known, Martha was being "starred." + +A Broadway star! How often have you read of the wonderful luck of some +obscure chorus girl, called upon in an emergency to play the leading +rôle, and next day proclaimed a star! Pretty fiction it is. Once in a +while it happens in real life, but very seldom. It is the alluring tales +of the sudden elevation of choristers which attract and fascinate the +beginner. The oft-told story of how Edna May rose from the ranks and +became a Casino star over-night, has served as the guiding beacon in the +life story of many a chorus girl seeking for fame; alas! too often in +vain. + +"Ready to-night for the stellar début of Miss Martha Farnum," cried +Weldon, enthusiastically. "To-night is the night that wins or loses +all." + +In clear defiance of the printed rules of the Fire Department young Mr. +Hummer carefully lighted a cigarette and observed carelessly: "Can't +see how any one loses unless it's Miss Farnum." + +"Not lose?" repeated Weldon. "Why, man, haven't I rented the theater for +six weeks on a guarantee, to say nothing of engaging the company and +paying for the most expensive scenic production of the season? With a +new Paris gown for every act? If Miss Farnum doesn't make good, where am +I?" + +"Exactly where you were three months ago," said Hummer. + +"Nothing of the sort--" began Weldon, when Hummer, with a warning +gesture, held his finger to his lips and nodded toward the dressing-room +where Lizzie was preparing for the coming of her mistress. + +"Cut it, Weldon," he whispered meaningly. "I know it's not your money, +so what's the use?" + +"Not my money? Don't I pay you your salary?" + +"Certainly; but I know, and every one else in the company guesses, that +you are only the figurehead." + +"The idea!" sputtered Weldon, pompously. "Don't the bills read: 'Victor +Weldon presents Miss Farnum'?--_presents_, mind you." + +Hummer stepped closer a bit, puffed at his cigarette, and motioned +toward the dressing-room. + +"She's the meal ticket," he added. + +"You mean Miss Farnum?" + +"Exactly. She found the angel, not you. If he withdrew his support +to-night, you couldn't keep this thing going thirty minutes." + +Weldon dropped into a chair and asked weakly: + +"How did you find out?" + +"The day you engaged me to incite public interest in your star, I found +out who the angel was. I hadn't been hanging around the Casino for +nothing. Half a dozen of the newspaper boys know all about his +infatuation for her." + +Victor Weldon smiled weakly. "Every one said you were good at guessing +things," he remarked. "But listen, Phil. Not a word of this to any one. +Even Miss Farnum doesn't know how things really stand." + +Hummer whistled. + +"She don't know Gordon is putting up the money?" + +Weldon shook his head. + +"And she thinks it is honest recognition of real merit?" + +Weldon said nothing. + +"My word, what a good story, and I can't print it," ejaculated Hummer, +turning toward the door that led behind the boxes to the front of the +house. Just as he was about to open it, Gordon pushed it ajar with one +quick stroke of his powerful arm, and strode into the green-room. + +"Where's Miss Farnum?" he asked brusquely. "Oh, I thought you were +Weldon," he added, turning abruptly from Hummer. + +"This is Mr. Hummer, our press representative," explained Weldon, coming +forward eagerly. + +"Ah, the press agent? Very good," responded Gordon, carelessly turning +his back on Hummer. + +"Let us say, rather, inciter of public interest," explained Hummer. +"Paid to get fiction into the papers, and to suppress facts." + +Gordon turned toward him curiously. "Indeed! And what do you suppress?" +he asked. + +"Well," drawled Hummer, "who is furnishing the money for Miss Farnum's +starring venture, for one thing, especially as she doesn't know +herself." And with a light laugh Hummer went "in front" by the passage +leading behind the boxes. + +"See here, Weldon," said Gordon, decisively, "it is now almost eight +o'clock. When do you ring up the curtain?" + +"At twenty minutes past," replied Weldon. + +"Then understand me thoroughly. You will not ring up that curtain until +I say so. Understand me--_until I say so_." + +Gordon's tone clearly indicated something unusual. "What do you mean?" +asked Weldon. + +"Unless things go my way first, that curtain will never go up on this +production," said Gordon, tensely. "Oh, don't worry," as he saw the +other's face wrinkle. "I'll see that you personally don't lose anything +by it. But if I am to pay the piper for this crazy starring scheme, I +want some return for my money. Have the orchestra ring in as usual and +play the overture. Have all the people ready in their costumes, and +then, just before Martha Farnum steps upon that stage, I want to see her +here. Do you understand?" + +"I didn't before," answered Weldon, meaningly, "but I am just beginning +to now." + +Alone, Gordon clenched his hands nervously. + +"I've given her everything she has wanted for the past three months," he +murmured, "even this latest plaything--a theater and a company of her +own--but I think we'll have a settlement to-night, my dear Martha; a +little clearer understanding before the curtain rises on my latest +folly." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AN OVERTURE AND A PRELUDE + + +"This," said Martha, "is as far as you can venture. There is my +dressing-room, sacred only to the star--that's Poor Little Me." + +And with a profound courtesy, she bowed low before Clayton. Then rising +with the air of a tragedy queen, she pointed toward the door. + +"Begone, varlet!" she cried, with mock intensity. "Your queen dismisses +you." + +Clayton laughed. "So little Martha Farnum has become a great New York +star at last," he said seriously. "I couldn't realize that you were +really going up so rapidly. This offer from Weldon was really enough to +take your breath away, and when he decided during rehearsals to feature +you so prominently, I concluded that perhaps you had more talent than +either of us ever suspected. But when he actually starred you--say, did +you see your name in electric letters as we came by the front of the +theater?" + +"Yes," cried Martha. "It almost took my breath away." + +Clayton shook his head wonderingly. + +"I remember your telling me Gordon offered to get you this engagement," +he said. "Do you suppose--" + +Martha laughed at his half-uttered thought. + +"Mr. Gordon has had nothing to do with it," she declared. "I am sure of +that, because he never came to one of the rehearsals. Once I saw some +one out front in the darkened theater who seemed like Mr. Gordon, but +when I asked him if he had attended the rehearsal he declared I was +mistaken." + +"But you've seen him?" + +"Yes, a number of times, and since you withdrew your restrictions, I +have had dinner with him frequently, but you know all about that." + +"I couldn't expect you to be cooped up all the time," Clayton admitted, +"especially when your salary leaped upward so amazingly. And I don't +blame you for taking a more comfortable apartment in the Webster. Aunt +Jane's boarding-house was all right for the chorus girl, but a trifle +too _passé_ for the future star." + +Martha shook her head sadly. "I think I was happier in those days than +now," she mused. "The more one attempts, the greater the chance for +failure. To-night I realize what is the ambition of most players, yet, +somehow, I am filled with dread. It doesn't seem right that I, plain +Martha Farnum, should be rushed upward like a skyrocket. Though the +rocket shoots upward in a blaze of glory, the stick must fall." + +"Good heavens, you mustn't anticipate bad luck," protested Clayton, +cheerily. "I'm going out front and witness your triumph." + +"If it only is a triumph!" sighed Martha. + +"It will be," insisted Clayton. "However, don't be nervous. Remember if +you ever need me, I will be within call. _Au revoir_--and good luck to +you," he added cordially, and in another moment he had gone, while +Martha stood staring blankly before her, and wondering what the night +would bring forth. + +"Oh, Miss Farnum," cried Lizzie, suddenly emerging from the +dressing-room, "you'd better hurry and dress for the first act. It is +almost time for the overture." + +"All right, Lizzie," answered Martha, going to the room and beginning to +disrobe. A moment later, Miss Pinkie Lexington, made up for the part of +a fashionable society woman, entered the green-room cautiously, and +crossed to the door behind the boxes. + +"Where can he be?" she murmured to herself. Then, hearing the call-boy +crying "Overture, overture," in the distance, she started quickly toward +the stage, only to pause abruptly when she found herself face to face +with Miss Flossie Forsythe, neatly attired in a maid's costume, and +wearing a white apron and cap. + +"Oh, I wouldn't have come here, if I'd known you was here," declared +Flossie, angrily. + +Pinkie extended a conciliating hand and said grandly: "Let's be friends, +Flossie. A girl shouldn't have enemies in the company." + +"It is hard enough to be compelled to accept an engagement in the same +company with you," replied Flossie, sarcastically, "but thank goodness, +a girl can choose her own friends." + +"It's the first part you ever had with real lines, isn't it?" + +"No," cried Flossie, indignantly. "I had lines when I was with the +'Follies' on the New York roof." + +"Oh, but I mean in a real play," replied Pinkie, superciliously. +"Anyhow, you don't want to get too gay with me. Remember, I got you this +engagement. I asked Martha to give you a real part, because I knew you +needed the money, now you've lost your lawsuit, and Mr. Zinsheimer, +too." + +"Zinsheimer!" repeated a stentorian voice behind them, as the proud +possessor of that historic name appeared, gorgeous in the resplendency +of an expansive shirt bosom and a white carnation in his button-hole. +"Now, Pinkie, you know I told you to call me 'Feathers.'" + +"Oh, Mr. Zinsheimer," half sobbed Flossie, "you are just in time. Even +though you care nothing more for me, you are too much of a gentleman to +let me be insulted. This _creature_ has--" + +"Nothing of the kind, Feathers," interrupted Pinkie. "Flossie's still +sore on me. I say, she'd better forget it. Girls ought to be friends +when they're in the same company." + +Zinsheimer raised his hands protestingly. "Aw, girls, cut it out, cut it +out. People these days have to be important to have enemies. Forget it. +There's a great audience out in front and all of them waiting to see the +little star. Ach Gott!" he added, as the green-baize doors were suddenly +thrown open from the stage, and an excitable whirlwind blew in. "Ach +Gott, what is this?" + +"This" turned out to be an imposing figure attired in the white huzzar +uniform of a German prince. His bronze wig with the pompadour effect, +his upturned moustache, his glittering decorations and smart uniform, +all indicated that he was a Great Personage. But, alas! from the knees +downward the illusion stopped. "This" didn't wear any boots. In fact, he +was in his stocking feet, and he trod the boards gingerly but none the +less dramatically. "This," in other words, was Arnold Lawrence, leading +man, and he was evidently somewhat _distrait_. + +"Miss Farnum," he cried. "Where is Miss Farnum?" + +"She's there in her dressing-room," explained Zinsheimer. "But she isn't +coming out until--well, until she's more so than she is now. What's the +matter?" + +"That stupid bootmaker has failed to send my boots," shouted Lawrence. +"How can I go on without my boots? I have the part of a royal prince of +the German Empire. Do you expect me to appear like this--without boots?" + +"Go ask the property man," directed Zinsheimer. "He's got some." + +"Bah! A German prince wear property boots? Impossible!" + +Martha, all ready for the first act, appeared in the door of her +dressing-room. + +"Miss Farnum," cried Lawrence, dramatically, "my boots have not arrived. +I refuse to go on unless correctly dressed." + +[Illustration: "MY BOOTS HAVE NOT ARRIVED, I REFUSE TO GO ON UNLESS +CORRECTLY DRESSED."] + +"But what can I do?" asked Martha, helplessly. + +"Dismiss the audience. I will not appear without the proper costume." + +"Oh, dear--please--" + +"I will not act." + +"But we can get some other boots--" + +"I tell you, I will not act." + +"For my sake--for the company's sake--" + +"I must think first of my art," almost shouted Lawrence. "The critics +are in front. If they saw me in boots not in keeping with the costume, +they would say I dressed the part wrongly. I would be ruined." + +Zinsheimer dragged the frantic leading man to one side. "Come here," he +cried. "She's got enough to worry her to-night without you. Now, do you +want the German prince to appear with a black eye?" + +"But heavens, man, what am I to do?" protested Lawrence. "Look at me. I +want my boots." + +"Aw, go act barefooted," replied Zinsheimer, disgustedly. + +"What? I barefoot?" + +"Well, why not? You haven't got anything on Ruth and Isadora. If they +can act barefooted, why not you?" + +"Preposterous!" exploded Lawrence, seeing he was being made game of. "I +tell you, I decline to act. It is the audience who suffers--not I." + +Fortunately Weldon entered at this psychological moment with the package +which had been delayed. The boots had been sent to the box-office +instead of the stage entrance. Lawrence, calmed at once as if by magic, +pounced upon it with a sigh of relief. + +"My boots--at last," he cried. "It is all right, Miss Farnum. They have +arrived. I will act to-night." + +In the general laughter that ensued, came the sharp cry of the assistant +stage manager calling "Places--first act." As Martha stepped toward the +stage, half trembling with mingled nervousness and glad anticipation at +the actual realization of her much cherished ambition, Weldon touched +her on the arm. + +"One moment, if you please, Miss Farnum," he said softly. "Believe me, I +regret to trouble you, but something very important has arisen. Mr. +Gordon wants to speak to you here." + +Martha turned toward him in surprise. "Mr. Gordon?" she repeated. "How +absurd! I can't see any one now." + +"He's very insistent, Miss Farnum." + +"Then tell him, after the play," replied Martha. "He must know the +curtain is just about to rise on the first act." + +"He knows that," responded Weldon, sincerely sorry at the awkward +predicament in which he saw things were becoming involved. "I know that, +but please, for my sake, see him, if only for a few moments." + +"That's a strange request," pondered Martha. "But if you really want it, +Mr. Weldon, of course I will comply. You have done so much for me that +indeed I ought to." + +"I will send him here at once," said Weldon, quickly, and disappeared +through the boxes. + +"Gordon?" said Martha, wonderingly to herself. Then to her maid: +"Lizzie, go and watch for my entrance." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +BEFORE THE CURTAIN ROSE + + +Gordon stopped short before Martha, involuntarily impressed at the +pleasing picture she made, clad in her simple but effective first-act +dress, as she half kneeled on the ottoman in the center of the +green-room, repeating to herself the lines from her part, which she held +in her hand and at which she occasionally glanced to refresh her memory. + +"You are indeed beautiful to-night," he half whispered, approaching her +closer. Martha turned toward him coldly. + +"Did you force yourself upon me this way just to utter such a +commonplace remark as that?" she asked. + +"Force myself?" repeated Gordon, half indignantly. + +"Yes. You know that I am nervous and excited over this performance +to-night. In a few moments I will have to face an unsympathetic +audience, ready to laugh if I score a failure, reluctant to concede +success. At such a time, how can you imagine I want to talk to any one? +All my strength and energy are needed for this conflict to-night, and it +was unkind of you to insist upon coming here at this moment." + +Gordon drew a chair near the ottoman and motioned for her to be seated. +Martha reluctantly sat beside him, her thoughts far away, her ears +listening intently for the curtain music to indicate the beginning of +the first act. + +"If you had refused to see me just now," said Gordon, quietly but +incisively, "the curtain would never have risen to-night. In fact, I am +not sure now that it will rise." + +[Illustration: MARTHA FARNUM (ELSIE JANIS)] + +Martha looked at him in simple amazement. "Nonsense," she replied. "The +curtain will rise in a few minutes." + +"It will when you say the word, provided it suits me also." + +"What do you mean?" Martha's voice expressed curiosity only. + +"The time is short, so I will speak plainly," said Gordon, tensely. "I +have purposely waited until the last moment so you could see both sides +of the picture. On the one hand, here are you, Martha Farnum, about to +make your actual appearance as a star at a Broadway theater. In six +months or less you have been transformed from a simple country girl to a +position often denied those who struggle for many years. Who do you +think has accomplished all this for you? Who is making you a star +to-night?" + +"Why--why, Mr. Weldon, of course," replied Martha, slightly bewildered. +"Who else?" + +Gordon laughed with just the suggestion of a sneer. + +"I am," he said coldly. + +"You? Impossible!" Martha rose in amazement. + +"For three months I have made it possible for you to have everything a +woman can want," continued Gordon, calmly, coming to her. "To-night the +climax is reached when you make your appearance as a star--if you +appear. While you have thought your natural talents were receiving just +recognition, I have been paying the bills." + +"And if what you say is true--all true--what then?" Martha gazed at him +blankly, as though dazed. + +"This. What I have done, I have done because of my admiration for you. +Up to this moment I have asked nothing in return, but now I do." + +"Return? You mean--?" + +"You're not such a fool as you'd have me think. What of the handsome +apartment you are living in, furnished by Mr. Weldon and supposed to be +paid for out of the salary you are to receive? Do you think Mr. Weldon +really paid the rent? No, my dear. I did." + +"No, no, no--I don't believe it," cried Martha, shrinking from him. +"It's incredible." + +"I don't care a rap for the money I have spent," cried Gordon, following +her. "I'd give it ten times over if you only loved me." + +"Loved you?" repeated Martha, scornfully. "How can you--" + +"Don't say no too hastily, Martha. I think I care more for you than I +ever did for any one else. I'll make you happy. There's nothing that my +money won't do or can't do. We can go around the world together--to +Paris, Vienna, India, Japan, anywhere you like." He came nearer. +"Martha, in all the time I have known and loved you, I have never had +one kiss. Shall I have the first to-night?" + +The girl turned and faced him squarely with flashing eyes. + +"Neither to-night nor any other night," she cried in ringing tones. + +"You mean it?" Gordon's face was pale and drawn. + +"Yes." + +"Is that your final answer?" he asked, after a pause. + +"It is," she replied defiantly. + +"Then listen to me," declared Gordon, his face flushed with sudden +anger. "Either you pledge your word to accept me on my own terms here +and now, or you will never make your entrance on that stage. Ah," he +added, as Martha reeled at the sudden realization of how completely he +controlled the situation, "that hits your vanity, does it? A nice little +story for the newspapers to-morrow. Theater closed, audience dismissed, +new star such a pitiful failure that she is too frightened to appear." + +"But that isn't true--that isn't true," cried Martha. + +"Isn't it? Try and convince the public otherwise." + +"I will, and that curtain shall go up to-night" Martha faced him bravely +enough, though her courage almost failed her. + +"Try it and see whose orders will be obeyed. Listen--the orchestra has +finished the overture. Think carefully, for your final answer now +decides your fate. You are at the parting of the ways. A future with me, +everything you desire, or back to your days of poverty." + +Weldon appeared as Martha seemed to hesitate. + +"Shall I ring up the curtain?" he asked quietly. + +"Wait," replied Gordon. He turned to Martha. "Your answer?" + +Martha did not look at him. "No," she replied simply. + +Gordon drew in his breath quickly, and the concentrated anger seemed +almost ready to burst its bonds. He stood looking at her intently for a +moment, then apparently realizing that he was unable to alter her +decision, he threw up his hands with a despairing gesture and started +toward the door. + +"There will be no performance, Weldon," he said roughly. "Dismiss the +audience, pay everybody their salaries, and wind up the whole cursed +business. I have sunk twenty thousand dollars for a hobby and a pretty +face, but now, thank God, I'm through. I'm cured. That's +all--good-night." + +"One moment before you go," cried Martha, stung to the quick. "You may +have dazzled other girls before with your golden shower. You may have +rung up curtains on success, and claimed your reckoning, but this time, +even though you have brought me failure and humiliation, you may mark +one failure for yourself. Good-night." And with a proud gesture of +independence, she turned her back upon him, and went into her +dressing-room, while Gordon, with a muttered exclamation, left the +green-room for the front of the theater. + +As quickly as possible the despairing Weldon gave the necessary orders. +The moment the players understood there would be no performance, +pandemonium broke loose. In an instant the green-room was filled with a +crowd of excited players in oddly contrasting costumes, all chattering +away for dear life. + +"No performance?" cried Flossie Forsythe. "What does it all mean?" + +"Ain't I ever going to play a real part?" wailed Pinkie. + +"My first time on Broadway, too," said Arthur Mortimer, sadly. + +"I never heard of such an outrageous proceeding," shouted Arnold +Lawrence, pompously. "No performance, indeed? I was engaged for the +season, and I shall sue for a season's salary." + +"You were engaged for the run of the play," retorted Weldon, +indignantly. "If the play doesn't have a run you are entitled to +nothing, but I give you and every one else two weeks' salary." + +"It is an insult to an artist," insisted Lawrence, turning to a group of +the dissatisfied and disappointed players. + +Suddenly the door through the boxes was thrown open and Clayton entered. + +"What does it all mean?" he demanded. "The theater is crowded with a lot +of people who want to know the reason for the sudden announcement. Why +will there be no performance?" he added, drawing Weldon aside. + +"I had to do it, Mr. Clayton," explained Weldon, privately. "You see it +is not my production--I had to obey the orders of my financial backer." + +"You mean--" + +"Gordon. Yes." + +"I see. Affairs came to a climax to-night," said Clayton. "I suspected +something underhanded, but I didn't believe even Gordon capable of such +a trick." He paused an instant. "Look here, Weldon, is this theater +leased in your name?" + +"Certainly," replied Weldon, promptly. + +"Then you could give the performance if you wanted to?" + +"But Mr. Gordon will not pay the bills unless I carry out his orders," +protested Weldon. + +Clayton slapped him eagerly on the back. "Then carry out my orders," he +cried enthusiastically, "and I will pay the bills." + +"You?" Weldon's eyes lit up with renewed interest. He saw before him +another prospective backer to take the place of the one who had just +deserted him. "You? Of course it _could_ be done, Clayton, the lease is +in my name." + +"Then that's settled," declared Clayton, quickly. "You know me and you +know my checks are good. Quick--send some one out to make an +announcement to the audience that there _will_ be a performance." + +As the stage manager hurriedly started toward the curtain, Lawrence, +who had overheard this dialogue, strutted toward Clayton. + +"All very good," he cried pompously. "But what about my salary?" + +"How much do you get?" inquired Clayton. + +Lawrence came close to him. "Four hundred a week," he whispered. + +Clayton turned to Weldon. "How much does this man get, Weldon?" he +inquired. + +"Seventy a week," Weldon answered quickly. + +Lawrence fairly fumed with rage, while the members of the company +tittered. + +"The terms of my contract are sacred and confidential," he protested. "I +accepted the reduced salary only because it is late in the season. You +had no right to expose the secrets of our contract." + +Clayton laughed. "I'll give you a hundred if you go on and give a good +performance," he volunteered. "Weldon, make out the salary list of this +company, and I'll give you a check covering two weeks' salaries for each +member of the organization. Figure up how much the theater costs, and +whatever Gordon hasn't paid, I will. Now, everybody get ready for the +first act, and ring up the curtain." + +Martha, alone in her dressing-room, had heard Clayton giving his +peremptory commands. Half dazed yet at the sudden apparent collapse of +the play, she scarcely realized that defeat was even now being turned +into victory. But the command to get ready for the act awoke her from +her lethargy. + +"Mr. Clayton," she cried, coming to him, "how can you do all this?" + +"I'm not as rich as Gordon," he replied, looking at her a bit +reproachfully. "Not by a long shot, but I guess you can star for a night +anyway, Martha, even with a one-horse angel." + +"You are not doing all this for me? Why, it would be better to let the +whole thing be a total failure than to take such a risk." + +"I am doing it because it pleases me," explained Clayton. "And because I +want you to have every chance for success that they tried to rob you +of." + +"Just wish me luck?" asked Martha, softly, holding out her hand. + +"I wish you everything you wish yourself," he replied. + +"The curtain is up, Miss Farnum," cried Lizzie, entering for a moment +from the stage. "It is nearly time for your entrance." + +"Wish me success," pleaded Martha, again. + +"Is that all you wish for?" asked Clayton, going with her toward the +stage. "If that is all you wish, I hope from the bottom of my heart you +will win it to-night." + +Martha withdrew her hand, turned, and half smiled, just before stepping +upon the stage. + +"I wonder if it is?" she said wistfully, and in another moment Clayton +heard a roll of applause go over the house as she stepped before the +footlights. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE MORNING AFTER + + +White and gold were the decorations of Martha's apartment in the +Webster--all white and gold except the dainty bedroom, which was in +pink. Visitors, however, saw only the white and gold of the parlor and +the drawing-room, with perhaps an occasional glimpse into the dark-oak +dining-room. + +The first streaks of early dawn, penetrating the crevices behind the +heavy, drawn curtains, cast a few shadows, and in the dim light one +might have seen a dozen baskets of flowers, mostly orchids and roses, +ranged about the drawing-room. + +It must have been almost nine o'clock when Lizzie, entering from the +maid's room, drew the curtains and flooded the white and gold parlor +with rich, warm sun-light. The curtains of the bedroom were still drawn, +but evidently Martha was wide awake, for a voice called from the inner +room. + +"Is that you, Lizzie?" + +"Yes, Miss Martha," replied the maid. "It's 'most nine o'clock. Shall I +get you the papers?" + +Martha, hastily throwing on a pink dressing-gown, entered the parlor. +Her eyes were still heavy, and her face was drawn and troubled. + +"I've had a wretched night," she said, dropping into a great arm-chair. +"I couldn't sleep. After that terrible ordeal--" + +"Terrible?" repeated Lizzie, aghast. "Lord, Miss, I heard all the stage +hands say the show was great. The actors are the only ones I heard roast +it at all." + +"I'm afraid I made a terrible mistake," sighed Martha. "I tried to do +things too quickly. I was ambitious, but I forgot that the race is not +always to the swift. I should have spent years and years in preparation +before attempting last night. Of course I was misled by the management, +who made me believe I was being promoted because of my ability." + +"And wasn't that the truth?" demanded Lizzie. + +Martha smiled wanly. "I can't explain now," she said. "I know I never +realized until after last night what an absolute failure I had been." + +"Oh, don't say that, Miss Martha," protested Lizzie. "Look at the +applause you got, and all these flowers." + +"Applause and flowers--that's all failures ever get," and Martha shook +her head wearily. "The end of my dreams has come. I shall close the +theater to-night." + +"Lord, Miss Martha," cried Lizzie, "don't be hasty. Ah," as a knock +sounded on the door, "there are the papers. Shall I open them up for +you?" + +"I can find the notices easily enough," said Martha, taking the papers. +"I am sure the horrid headlines will stare me in the face. Mr. Clayton +tried to encourage me last night, but I am sure the verdict will be +against me." + +"I wouldn't bother with the papers if I felt that way, Miss Martha. Lots +of the actors at Mrs. Anderson's said they never read no criticisms, but +once in a great while when an actor got a good line, I always noticed +he'd find a way to read it aloud at the supper table." + +"By the way, Lizzie," said Martha, suddenly, "is Mrs. Anderson's full +now, do you suppose?" + +"It wasn't yesterday." + +"Do you suppose I could get my old room again?" + +"Your old room?" cried the amazed Lizzie. "Why, that's no place for a +real actress." + +Martha sighed again and tried to smile. "But I'm not a real actress and +I must find a cheaper place. Pack up to-day. Better 'phone the hotel +office at once that we shall leave in an hour." + +Lizzie went to the 'phone while Martha opened the newspapers. She turned +the pages idly until she found the headlines she sought, and for a +moment read in silence. Suddenly she sprang to her feet and threw the +papers on the floor. + +"Infamous," she cried bitterly. "Why need they be so cruel? I won't read +another line." + +At that moment there was a knock at the door, and Pinkie, resplendent in +a new tailor-made gown, brilliantly red, burst into the room. + +"Just rushed in to tell you how perfectly grand you were last night, and +what perfectly lovely things the papers said about me," she cried. "Of +course, that smart critic on the _American_ might have said I had +improved a little, but then he said I was just as artistic when playing +lines as when I was only in the sextette. Nice, wasn't it?" + +Martha smiled. "What did the _Journal_ say?" she asked. + +"Oh, something nice--I don't quite remember," evaded Pinkie. + +"And the _Herald_?" + +"Success!" cried Pinkie. "But I think it's a shame what some of them +said about you, Martha. It isn't so at all." + +"Never mind, dear," said Martha, somewhat wearily. "We did the best we +could." + +"The trouble was the play was bad," continued Pinkie. "Don't know what +that author meant by putting me only in one act, and then letting +Flossie come on twice to interrupt my scenes. But come along, +Martha--you must put some powder on that nose if you expect to live +through another day. I'll help you dress." + +[Illustration: "THIS IS INFAMOUS, INFAMOUS! I WON'T READ ANOTHER +LINE."] + +Half an hour later, as Martha had almost completed her toilette, Lizzie +interrupted to say that the hotel clerk wanted to send some one up to +look at the apartment--a newly married couple. Would it disturb Miss +Farnum? If so, they would make the couple call again. + +"Certainly not," replied Martha. "Show them around yourself. I'll be +ready to leave in a few minutes." + +Some three minutes later, Mr. "Marky" Zinsheimer and his bride, formerly +Miss Flossie Forsythe, were ushered into the white and gold apartment, +entirely ignorant of the fact that it was occupied by Miss Farnum. Mr. +and Mrs. Zinsheimer having been married a little more than one hour, +were already looking for a dove-cote for their honeymoon. + +"This might suit us all right--" began Zinsheimer, when Flossie +interrupted him with a shriek. + +"Bless my soul, if it ain't Lizzie," shrieked Flossie. + +"Lizzie?" repeated Zinsheimer. "What are you doing here?" + +"Why, this is Miss Farnum's apartment," explained the maid. "I'll tell +her you're here, Miss Forsythe--" + +"Mrs. Zinsheimer, if you please," responded that young lady, haughtily. +"We were married this morning." + +"Fact," admitted Zinsheimer. "I always liked you best, Flossie, until +you got mad at me because I helped Pinkie, but when I saw you playing +the demure little maid last night, with Pinkie lording it all over you, +and you never answering back, I said: 'There's the girl for me.' So I +waited at the stage door, and when you came out I grabbed you and we sat +up so late at Jack's that it was morning before we finished talking +things over. So then there was only one thing to do--get married." + +"Sure, you both look happy," said Lizzie. + +"And we are happy, aren't we, Marky?" cried Flossie. "I'm going to give +up the stage for good and all." + +"You can have this apartment in an hour," said Lizzie. "Miss Farnum is +giving it up because it's too expensive." + +"Too expensive for her, eh?" smiled Zinsheimer; then he added +confidentially: "I know lots of people who would consider it an honor to +be allowed to pay her rent." + +"Marky," cried Flossie, warningly. "Remember you are a married man now." + +"Marky," to conciliate his bride, took her in his arms and kissed her. +At this psychological moment, Miss Pinkie Lexington emerged from the +boudoir. She shrieked at the sight. + +"Marky," she cried. "You here with Flossie?" + +Flossie proudly drew Zinsheimer far from the possibility of contact with +Miss Lexington, and proudly, almost haughtily, threw a defiant look at +her rival. + +"My _husband_, Mr. Zinsheimer," she said. + +Pinkie, with a scream, sank upon the big arm-chair and rocked herself to +and fro. "They are married," she moaned. "They are married." + +"This morning, dear," smiled Flossie, coldly. "Thanks so much for your +congratulations." + +"Married," repeated Pinkie, incredulously. "Married." + +Zinsheimer advanced cautiously, and gave her several encouraging pats on +the shoulder. + +"There, now, don't take on so," he said suavely. "There's other fish in +the sea, almost as good. It isn't half as bad as what they say in the +papers about the play. Listen to this," he added, unfolding a newspaper +and reading: "'A luridly ludicrous exhibition of maudlin mush,' Ach +Gott, what you think of that? 'A misguided author loaded a thirteen-inch +gun to the muzzle with idiotic words and reduced a large and +long-suffering audience to a peppered wreck. As an author, he's a joke. +As a murderer, he has the punch.' What funny fellows those critics are. +Here's what he says about Miss Farnum: 'The star--who, by the way, could +only be observed with the aid of a Lick telescope--was only a shooting +star. She made one faint, fantastic fizzle, then dropped without even a +hiss into the gloom of merciful oblivion. She was not even a meteor, and +only an innate sense of delicacy prevents our calling her a +devil-chaser.' No wonder the ladies love the _Sun_. Now, Pinkie, +listen--here's what he says about _you_." + +"What?" shouted Pinkie. "Does that man dare--" + +"He does. Listen: 'Among the cast appeared Miss Pinkie Lexington, with a +German accent on her Lex; a portly person of the oval type. She looked +like a turnip and acted the part artistically. Had this succulent +vegetable only burst from her scant foliage--but there, who roasts a +turnip?'" + +"Oh, if he were only here now, where I could get my mitts on him," +shouted the frantic Pinkie, springing to her feet. "Oh, let me go. I am +stifling. Thank heaven, the air outside at least is pure." And Pinkie +stormed from the room. + +Flossie gazed after the retreating form of her former chum. + +"Good exit, that," she observed. "Pinkie really ought to go in for +melodrama." + +Martha, who had heard enough of the commotion to realize what was going +on, entered and congratulated both Flossie and Mr. Zinsheimer. + +"Sorry you are leaving this place," volunteered "Marky." "Any--er--money +troubles?" + +"None whatever, thank you," replied Martha. "I am going to leave the +stage and go back to my old home in Indiana." + +"Leave the stage?" gasped Flossie. + +"If you ever need assistance, you know"--"Marky" coughed +confidentially. + +[Illustration: "SHE LOOKED LIKE A TURNIP AND ACTED THE PART +ARTISTICALLY."] + +"Thank you. Good-bye," replied Martha, smiling. + +"Marky," pouted Flossie, "I think we'd better be going. Come--you +promised to buy me a lot of new things this morning. Hurry up, _angel_." + +"Angel?" repeated Zinsheimer. "That's just what I would like to be, but +she won't let me. All right, Flossie, I'm coming." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE FINAL RECKONING + + +Gordon, too, had spent a restless night. Leaving the theater abruptly +after giving orders to dismiss the audience, he had driven furiously to +his club. There, in the seclusion of the grill-room and in a niche not +far removed from the bar, he had endeavored to alleviate his +disappointment by partaking of many gin rickeys. Late at night some of +his friends interrupted him at this amusement to tell him of the new +play at the Globe. + +"New play?" he repeated. "Why, the theater wasn't open." + +"Sure it was," replied one of his companions. "But they might as well +have kept it closed. Beastly piece, hackneyed stuff, stale jokes, bad +company, and the star--piffle. Nice enough little girl, you know, very +pretty and all that, but she can't act for sour apples." + +Gordon listened in surprise. "You mean to say," he demanded, "that +Martha Farnum appeared at the Globe to-night?" + +"Surest thing you know," his friend replied. "I was there and saw her." + +Thereupon Gordon had hunted up Weldon, bitterly assailed him for his +treachery, and learned the whole truth of Clayton's interference. The +fact that the girl had won out against him worried him. People didn't +usually triumph over his bulldog tenacity and obstinate determination. +However, when the morning broke, he felt that he must have another +interview with the girl. If he had been mistaken in her--if she really +had the divine spark, after all, or something in its place which helped +her to face that unsympathetic audience the night before--he wanted to +discover it, too. Therefore, shortly after Martha had finished packing, +he was announced, and told to come up. + +"I really ought not to see you, Mr. Gordon," said Martha, simply, in a +businesslike tone. "But there are certain things that must be said +before I go away." + +"Where are you going?" cried Gordon, in surprise. + +"Home--to Indiana." + +"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely. "You are going away with that +man Clayton." + +"That is not true," replied Martha, with heat. + +"Well, you ought to feel grateful to him for letting you appear last +night, after I had stopped you." + +In spite of herself, Martha couldn't resist the inclination to smile, +but it was a wan smile. + +"I wish he had stopped me, too," she said. + +"Oh, do you? And yet you turned from me, who can give you everything, +to him, who can give you nothing." + +"He has given me more than you can ever offer." + +"What?" + +"The right to a friendship that is good and true. I am glad you came +this morning, for we must have a settlement." + +"A settlement? How?" + +"I to keep what is mine, and to return that which is yours." + +"Return what?" + +"Every penny you have spent in this mad scheme must be returned to you. +I don't know how, or when, but I will work to earn the money and repay +every cent. I will not be in your debt." + +The telephone bell rang. Martha answered it. + +"If you are expecting visitors--" Gordon said. + +"It is only Mr. Clayton and I want you to see him," she said. + +"Clayton again, eh? How long have you been friends?" + +"I met him the same day I met you, at French Lick. He took an interest +in me, in a business way, and loaned me the money I needed to come here +and study for the stage. Every dollar of that debt has been repaid long +since, but he is still a friend, tried and true, and one who would never +have been guilty of your treachery of last night." + +Clayton entered jauntily. He seemed somewhat surprised at seeing Gordon. + +"Little business council?" he said easily. + +"It happens to be something more," explained Martha. "I have pointed out +to Mr. Gordon that there must be a final settlement between us." + +"Just what I was going to say," replied Clayton, sitting on the arm of +the great chair. "You see, Gordon, it is absolutely necessary that Miss +Farnum--or some one else on her behalf--should return to you every +dollar you have spent on her. As for what you actually lost in the +starring venture--" + +"Oh, I see," sneered Gordon. "A change of managers?" + +"No," declared Martha. "I have had my chance, and I have failed. +To-night the theater will be closed." + +"Well, that's wise, at any rate," said Gordon. "So it's merely a change +of angels--with you, Clayton, to pay the bills?" + +"Hereafter," said Clayton, calmly, "it will be my pleasure and my +privilege to pay all of Miss Farnum's bills for life. She has promised +to be my wife." + +"What?" cried Martha, in surprise. + +"Your wife?" demanded Gordon. + +"Precisely," continued Clayton. "I bid higher than anything you can +offer, Gordon. My bid includes a wedding ring." + +Gordon stepped back, looked from Martha to Clayton, and back again to +the girl, who stood, confused and embarrassed, with her eyes turned +toward the floor. Then the innate refinement and the result of years of +breeding asserted itself in Gordon's pale face. He stepped forward +seriously to Martha. + +"Miss Farnum," he said, humbly and sincerely, "better men than _I_ have +made mistakes. May I wish you every happiness? The same to you, Clayton, +with all my heart. Good-bye." + +He turned and walked from the room. Not until he had gone did Martha +dare to look Clayton squarely in the face. + +"I was going to write you this morning," she said, "to tell you that I +am going home." + +"Without your manager's permission? Not even a two weeks' notice?" + +"Do be serious, please," she pleaded. Then with a sudden outburst of +passion: "I've failed in everything I ever tried." + +"You haven't failed in my eyes," declared Clayton, taking her hand, +while she turned away from him. "You have merely missed one opportunity +you had dreamed of." + +"Yesterday I dreamed, but to-day I am awake. I am going home." + +Clayton reached over and took her other hand, then swung her around so +that she faced him and could not evade his direct glance. + +"Didn't I tell Gordon I was going to marry you?" he demanded. "I've run +out of all my other fads, and now my latest fad is trying to run away +from me." + +Martha gazed up at him coquettishly. "You mean you want to marry me just +to see what I'll do?" she pouted. + +"That's one of the reasons, not to mention loving you," replied Clayton, +in a brisk, businesslike tone. "Well?" + +Martha paused a moment. "Do you remember," she asked, "once you said the +greatest success meant nothing if the right person did not share it with +you?" + +"Yes." + +"You were right. And now I know that the greatest failure also means +nothing, if the right person _does_ share it with you." + +Clayton held out his arms entreatingly. + +"I think I'm going to like my latest fad immensely," he whispered. + +"And I shall try to stick longer than any of the others, even the +postage stamps," she answered, as she nestled in his arms. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Star for a Night, by Elsie Janis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STAR FOR A NIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 33785-8.txt or 33785-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/7/8/33785/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Star for a Night + A Story of Stage Life + +Author: Elsie Janis + +Release Date: September 21, 2010 [EBook #33785] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STAR FOR A NIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="387" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p><a name="front" id="front"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 473px;"> +<img src="images/frontis1.jpg" width="473" height="650" alt="Elsie Janis in a few of her characterizations." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Elsie Janis in a few of her characterizations.</span> +</div> + +<h1>A STAR FOR A NIGHT</h1> + +<h2>A STORY OF STAGE LIFE</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ELSIE JANIS</h2> + +<h4>WITH PICTURES FROM THE PLAY TAKEN ESPECIALLY FOR THE BOOK</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/illus002.jpg" width="225" height="161" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +NEW YORK<br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM RICKEY & COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +1911<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Copyright, 1911, by<br /> +BRUCE EDWARDS<br /> +<br /> +Copyright, 1911, by<br /> +WILLIAM RICKEY & COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +<i>Registered at Stationers' Hall, London</i><br /> +<i>(All Rights Reserved)</i><br /> +<br /> +Printed in the United States of America<br /> +<br /> +PRESS OF WILLIAM G. HEWITT, BROOKLYN, N. Y.<br /> +</p> + +<h4><i>To My Mother</i></h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ORIGINAL CAST</h2> + +<h4>OF</h4> + +<h3>A STAR FOR A NIGHT</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Produced at Charles Dillingham's Globe Theatre, New York</i></p> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"Marky" Zinsheimer</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Mr. Joseph Cawthorn</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Blackman</span>}</td><td rowspan="4">Guests at the Claypool Hotel</td><td align='left'>{<i>Miss Jane Bliss</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gilday</span>}</td><td align='left'>{<i>Miss Pauline Hathaway</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Martin</span>}</td><td align='left'>{<i>Miss Josephine Lachmar</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Carlin</span>}</td><td align='left'>{<i>Miss Henrietta Pouts</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Bell-boy</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Mr. Al Stuart</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Dainton</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Miss Harriet Sterling</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Victor Weldon</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Mr. Ralph Nairn</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sanford Gordon</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Mr. Stanley H. Forde</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Felice</span> }</td><td rowspan="2">Mrs. Dainton's servants</td><td align='left'>{<i>Miss Josephine Kernell</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Murray</span> }</td><td align='left'>{<i>Mr. Jack Sullivan</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Flossie Forsythe</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Miss Elizabeth Brice</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Kilpatrick</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Miss Margaret King</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Martha Farnum</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Miss Elsie Janis</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"Pinkie" Lexington</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Miss Julia Frary</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">George Clayton</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Mr. Wallace McCutcheon</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lizzie</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Miss Olive Quimby</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Arthur Mortimer</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Mr. Gene Revere</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Jane Anderson</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Miss Queenie Vassar</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Messenger Boy</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Master Albert Lamson</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Arnold Lawrence</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Mr. Charles Judels</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Phil Hummer</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><i>Mr. Charles King</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Business Manager</i></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">J. Clyde Rigby</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Stage Manager</i></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">E. C Donnelly</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> + +<p> +<span class="tocnum">PAGE</span><br /> +<br /> +"Zinsheimer, of New York" <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></span><br /> +<br /> +The English Actress <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Introducing Martha Farnum <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_27'>27</a></span><br /> +<br /> +A Glimpse into the Past <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_49'>49</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Strictly a Business Bargain <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_63'>63</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"Where Everything is Homelike" <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_71'>71</a></span><br /> +<br /> +A Hundred-Dollar Bill <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_89'>89</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Sanford Gordon Reappears <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_103'>103</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Love and Ambition <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_121'>121</a></span><br /> +<br /> +The Underground Wires <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_133'>133</a></span><br /> +<br /> +In the Green-Room <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_143'>143</a></span><br /> +<br /> +An Overture and a Prelude <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_155'>155</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Before the Curtain Rose <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_167'>167</a></span><br /> +<br /> +The Morning After <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_183'>183</a></span><br /> +<br /> +The Final Reckoning <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_197'>197</a></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p> +Elsie Janis in a Few of Her Characterizations— <span class="tocnum"><i><a href="#front">Frontispiece</a></i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="tocnum">FACING PAGE</span><br /> +<br /> +"Marky" Zinsheimer (Joseph Cawthorn) <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_4'>4</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"Oh, that's Miss Farnum. She's old Mrs. Kilpatrick's companion" <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_28'>28</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"I haven't had an orchid this season" <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_84'>84</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"More flowers, and from a man I have never spoken to" <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"I refuse to let you go, Martha" <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_98'>98</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"I'm sorry I'm so poor," sobbed Pinkie <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"And glad I am to be back in your hospitable house" <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_114'>114</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"My boots have not arrived, I refuse to go on unless <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_162'>162</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Martha Farnum (Elsie Janis) <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_168'>168</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"This is infamous, infamous! I won't read another line" <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_188'>188</a></span><br /> +<br /> +"She looked like a turnip and acted the part artistically" <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_194'>194</a></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>A STAR FOR A NIGHT</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>"ZINSHEIMER, OF NEW YORK"</h3> + + +<p>Stick a pin in the map of southern Indiana, half an inch to the left of +Lost River, and about six hours from the rest of the world, as time is +used to measure railroad journeys, and you will find a speck called +French Lick Springs. Hidden away in the hills, so remote from the +centers of civilization that only wealthy inebriates and chronic +invalids can afford to visit this out of the way, yet expensive, spot, +French Lick has other attractions than the natural beauties of its +scenery and the health-giving quality of its waters. For while the sick +and the ailing may be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> tempted to the Springs in the hope of gaining +health from the bad-smelling waters they drink, and dozens of +florid-faced men invade the little town almost every day from the big +and distant cities in order to "get washed out" after too much +indulgence in alcoholic stimulants, there are others who go to the +Springs simply for the excitement of a little whirl at the gaming +tables, which rumor says abound there, but which a shrewd deputy sheriff +invariably reports to the local grand jury, "<i>Non est.</i>"</p> + +<p>The town itself is a tiny hamlet. There is a post-office, a railroad +station, a few frame buildings, and the hotel—<i>the</i> hotel, because it +is the only shelter the town affords to the weary traveler. Patrons who +have stopped at the City Hotel in Marshalltown, Iowa, or the Commercial +House in Joplin, Missouri, may wonder how such a tiny town supports such +a gigantic hotel, but the rural spectators at the railroad station, who +have seen the trains<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> on the little branch road bring in Pullman after +Pullman loaded to the roofs, know that no small part of the great +outside world comes here for rest, recreation, and rehabilitation. +Drinking is under the ban here—that is, if you must drink, you must +drink the sulphur water. And every one who has tried to mix alcohol with +the water of the Springs knows the evil consequences thereof.</p> + +<p>Which latter explains why Mr. "Marky" Zinsheimer, New York, feather +importer, was particularly grouchy on a certain autumn afternoon when he +strolled into the sun parlor on the veranda of the French Lick Springs +Hotel. In the vicinity of Broadway and Canal Street, New York, Mr. +Zinsheimer was a personage of great importance. Not a cloak model in the +Grand Street district but knew him to be "a perfectly lovely gentleman." +Not a chorus girl south of Fifty-ninth Street but knew that "Marky" was +always a friend in need and a friend indeed. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> waiters at Rector's +treated him almost as if he were an equal. He was always sure of a +prominent table at the Café de l'Opera, whether he wore evening clothes +or not. He was accustomed to attention, and demanded it. Furthermore, he +was willing to pay for all the attention he received. Forty-two years +old, with a blond German personality which manifested itself in a +slightly bald forehead, slightly curled blond hair, and a slightly blond +moustache, Mr. "Marky" Zinsheimer gave every outward evidence of being +an important personage. His clothes were, perhaps, a trifle extreme; his +tie perhaps a trifle too pronounced in color; his watch-chain a trifle +too heavy; and his solitaire diamond stud was undoubtedly too large; yet +for all that, if you were in the least bit worldly, "Marky" Zinsheimer +was not a person to be lightly ignored.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 423px;"> +<img src="images/illus016.jpg" width="423" height="650" alt=""Marky" Zinsheimer (Joseph Cawthorn)" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Marky" Zinsheimer (Joseph Cawthorn)</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Zinsheimer's natural good humor was disturbed even before he made +his entrance into the sun parlor. In the first place, he had gone seven +days without a drink, a feat simple enough for a camel, but slightly +difficult for a Zinsheimer. In the second place, he had devised a scheme +for entertainment during his enforced vacation at the Springs, said +entertainment comprising a visit and the companionship at golf of one +Miss Flossie Forsythe, of the "Follies" company, who had hurriedly left +the company in Chicago to accept Mr. Zinsheimer's telegraphed +invitation. But, while Mr. Zinsheimer was genuinely fond of Flossie, and +had even once spoken vaguely of matrimony, he had found that a week of +her society at breakfast, dinner and supper, to say nothing of golf, was +a trifle wearing.</p> + +<p>The third reason for Mr. Zinsheimer's perturbation was the discovery, as +he entered the sun parlor, that all the desirable chairs were occupied.</p> + +<p>Two of the easy wicker rockers were drawn up by a small table, where a +game of checkers was in progress between two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> fat ladies. Ranged at +intervals along the glass-enclosed front were four other equally stout +ladies, lolling back in equally comfortable chairs, some reading, some +dozing. Mr. Zinsheimer, who had anticipated a pleasant morning reading +the New York papers, was obviously annoyed. Fortunately, he knew the +proper method of attacking and routing the enemy.</p> + +<p>One of the stout ladies, puzzling over her next move, was almost choked +when a whiff of smoke was blown across the checker-board. A moment +later, a somnolent and rotund lady in one of the rockers started up +furiously as another whiff drifted in her direction. A page-boy entering +at this particular moment was hurriedly summoned by the indignant +ladies, and Mr. Zinsheimer, gazing vacantly into space, felt a slight +touch on the arm.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir," said the boy, "smoking is not permitted here."</p> + +<p>Mr. Zinsheimer frowned.</p> + +<p>"I did not ask permission," he replied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>Two of the stout ladies gathered up their magazines, glowered at the +placid Zinsheimer and the nonplussed boy, murmured "Wretch," and +departed.</p> + +<p>"But I mean, there's no smoking here," continued the boy.</p> + +<p>"Marky" Zinsheimer blew a particularly large whiff of smoke in the +direction of the checker-table.</p> + +<p>"You're wrong, kid," he remarked. "There <i>is</i> smoking here, and I'm +doing it."</p> + +<p>"But it's against the hotel rules."</p> + +<p>"Hotel rules are like a woman's mind," said "Marky" carelessly, moving +toward the checker-table. "They can be changed to fit any situation."</p> + +<p>The checker-players were so much absorbed in their game that they did +not notice him at first, so he leaned over the table, genially, and +inquired:</p> + +<p>"Well, whose move is it now?"</p> + +<p>"I believe it's mine," retorted one of the two players, indignantly +rising to her feet and starting toward the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And mine," responded the other, following suit. At the door the twain +paused and called to the other occupant of the room: "We are going for a +walk, Mabel. Won't you come?"</p> + +<p>Mabel picked up her book and moved toward the irate checker-players who +had been so summarily routed.</p> + +<p>"I don't like that cigar," she declared, stopping and turning to +Zinsheimer.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, try one of these," responded the irrepressible "Marky," +offering several long perfectos from a leather case. He was answered +only by a snort of indignation, and the next moment the smiling and +courteous Mr. Zinsheimer, alone on the field of battle, settled himself +in the most comfortable of the vacated chairs.</p> + +<p>But "Marky's" serenity was to be short-lived. There was a rattle of +chatelaine chains, a vague and indistinct odor of some unrecognizable +but vivid perfume, the rustle of silken skirts, a cry of glad surprise,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +and Miss Flossie Forsythe, engaging, attractive, youthful and magnetic, +settled herself on the arm of his rocking-chair as though entitled to +rest there by the law of eminent domain.</p> + +<p>"Marky," she cried, "I've been looking for you everywhere! Who ever +would have thought of finding you in the sun parlor?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Zinsheimer coughed uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's just what I thought," he stammered. "You see," he added, "I +noticed you talking to that swell chap Gordon in the lobby, and I didn't +like it."</p> + +<p>Flossie patted his cheek playfully, in spite of "Marky's" efforts to +elude her, and said joyfully:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Marky, you were jealous!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Zinsheimer grunted.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you want to find a new backer, go ahead. All right, only you'd +better be careful I don't get cold feet first. Feather importers <i>is</i> in +demand on Broadway this season," he added as an afterthought.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But Mr. Gordon is an old friend," pouted Flossie. "I was introduced to +him one night when he sat at a table next to me during the run of +'Florodora.'"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you were one of them original sextetters, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Marky, don't be horrid when I was just going to ask a little favor +of you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Zinsheimer rose to his feet carefully, and buttoned up his coat with +an ominous air, while, relieved of his ballast, Flossie almost fell from +her comfortable perch on the arm of the big chair.</p> + +<p>"Nothing doing, Flossie," remarked Zinsheimer, coldly. "Of course it's +all right for me to pay the hotel bill of my fiancée, but as the bill is +assuming generous proportions, I don't think the fiancée should expect +to go any further."</p> + +<p>Flossie's dark eyes half filled with tears, and there was just a slight +suspicion of a twitch around the lips at the injustice done her, and she +said plaintively:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't want to borrow any money."</p> + +<p>At that Zinsheimer threw open his coat easily, sighed with relief, and +inquired easily:</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, my dear. What is it you want?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's about my chum, Pinkie Lexington," began Flossie, brushing a +few spects of dust from Mr. Zinsheimer's coat-sleeve. "We were out +together two years ago with 'The Girl from Paris'—the time it stranded +in Butte and you sent us the railroad tickets to come home."</p> + +<p>"I remember," interrupted Zinsheimer, quickly. "Rather a pretty girl she +was, too."</p> + +<p>"She's still pretty, but she's awful fat," resumed Flossie, wonderfully +innocently. "And I never heard any one call her beautiful. Anyhow, the +show she's with has gone on the rocks up near Indianapolis, and Pinkie +has been left high and dry without a cent."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So you want me to send her some more rocks, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. Pinkie wrote me all about it, and I wired her to come down +here at once. She's due this afternoon, and I can share my room with her +if you'll just speak to the manager and say we're good for the money."</p> + +<p>Zinsheimer scratched his head reflectively.</p> + +<p>"But neither of you has any money," he ventured.</p> + +<p>"You know as soon as my lawsuit is settled, I will be on velvet," +retorted Flossie, haughtily. "Meanwhile, your word with the manager +goes."</p> + +<p>"Lawsuit?" repeated Mr. Zinsheimer. "Now, Flossie, that's been going on +for five years and I never found out yet what it was all about. Where is +it and when will it be settled?"</p> + +<p>Flossie's evident embarrassment at the inquiry into the facts of her +lawsuit was fortunately terminated by the sudden entrance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> of a bell-boy +with a telegram for "Miss Forsythe."</p> + +<p>"That's me, boy," cried Flossie, grabbing the envelope and tearing it +open. "It's from Pinkie and she'll be here on the 3:30 train," she +explained, turning to Zinsheimer. "Boy, call me a carriage."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss," responded the boy, moving toward the office.</p> + +<p>"And have it charged to my room," called Flossie, hastily. Then, taking +"Marky" by the coat lapels, she turned her big brown eyes upward and +asked archly:</p> + +<p>"You will speak to the manager about Pinkie?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Zinsheimer endeavored to gain time, but the appeal was direct and to +the point. He coughed twice, as if planning resistance, and then +surrendered.</p> + +<p>"All right," he growled. "I'll speak to the manager, Flossie, but I know +who'll pay the bill."</p> + +<p>"You old dear," cried Flossie, and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> another moment the rattling +chatelaines, the vague and unrecognizable perfume, the rustling skirts +and the fascinating Flossie flitted along the veranda toward the waiting +carriage, while "Marky" tried to get interested in the New York papers +and figure the total of seventeen days at five dollars a day, with +extras in the shape of flowers, carriages, candies, manicures, tips, and +other incidentals dear to the heart of a lovely woman who lives +economically but well.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE ENGLISH ACTRESS</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Dainton, the great English actress, had the artistic temperament. +Mrs. Dainton had nerves. Mrs. Dainton had many other things which an +imported foreign star anxious to create a sensation might be expected to +have. For instance, she had Fuzzy-Wuzzy, the petite Pomeranian poodle +which never left her night or day. She had her personal manager, Victor +Weldon, to act as valet for the dog by daytime, and attend to occasional +business details. There were also two maids—Lizette, the French maid, +whose duties were of a personal nature at hotels; and Johanna, the +German maid, who assisted at the theater. Furthermore, there was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +footman whose special province it was to precede Mrs. Dainton at all +times and make sure that no rude persons caused her the slightest +annoyance. In the trail of this imposing procession, as a rule, could be +found Sanford Gordon.</p> + +<p>Once Mrs. Dainton had been a great beauty. The daughter of an obscure +country curate in her native England, conditions made it necessary for +her to support herself. Naturally, as so many of her sex have done, she +gravitated toward the stage, which always beckons most alluringly to +those who have beauty, youth and talent. Too often it is but the Lorelei +by which are wrecked the disappointed hopes of those not fitted by +nature or temperament for the hardships that must be encountered, but +with Mrs. Dainton the struggle for success had been aided materially by +the beauty and charm with which she was richly endowed. Returning to +America after a number of years—for her first tour of this country +after her London<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> triumphs had been like a whirlwind—Mrs. Dainton had +found herself still viewed with interest, still admired for the great +beauty which had now reached its maturity, and still peevish and +petulant as a result of the fulfillment of her every slightest wish and +whim. Her little eccentricities were always excused by her personal +manager as "Madame's temperament." If an inquisitive newspaper man +wanted to know why Madame had held the curtain until nine o'clock—when +in reality she had merely motored into the country too far and had been +careless of the time—Victor would explain: "Ah, Madame has been +visiting some sick children. She is always so generous, so considerate." +Long experience had made Victor invaluable. His it was to receive the +blame whenever anything went wrong, to excuse to the utmost the +weaknesses of the English actress whenever, as they often did, her whims +seemed likely to affect the box-office receipts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>Consequently, when Mrs. Dainton and her entourage, passing out on their +way to Sanford Gordon's new ninety horse-power touring car which was +drawn up before the hotel, entered the sun parlor, it didn't in the +least surprise the amiable and considerate Victor to have the English +actress pause, sniff, stamp her foot, and protest.</p> + +<p>"Some one has been smoking here," she insisted shrilly. "Victor, send +for the manager! The same thing happened yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I have already complained once—" began Weldon, shifting the Pomeranian +from the left arm to the right.</p> + +<p>"No matter—complain again. If we cannot have satisfaction, complain a +third and a fourth time. That is what hotel managers are here for—to +listen to complaints."</p> + +<p>Sanford Gordon, the least obtrusive figure of the little cavalcade, and +the one who, for personal reasons, least desired a scene which might +find its way into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> newspapers, stepped forward to calm the irate +actress. Once, rumor said, Sanford Gordon had been able to calm her +impetuous spirit, but that had been in days long gone by. Then he had +chartered a private car to be near her on her travels, he had risked an +open scandal by his devotion to the celebrated beauty. Now things were +different. Not only did he not relish the idea of an altercation with a +hotel management, always fraught with sensational newspaper +possibilities which his smart fellow club members in New York might turn +into a jibe or a joke, but his influence with Mrs. Dainton herself +seemed to be waning.</p> + +<p>"Really, my dear Mrs. Dainton," he began softly, "what does it matter? +We do not intend to remain here more than a moment."</p> + +<p>Perhaps for some hidden reason of her own, Mrs. Dainton seemed to find +pleasure in turning upon him suddenly.</p> + +<p>"How do you know how long I may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> stay here? Perhaps I may wish to spend +the afternoon here," she declared. "Some one has been smoking here, +smoking vile, filthy cigars. Such things affect my voice. And what could +I do without my voice? I couldn't act. I should be penniless. Victor, +you must not let this happen again."</p> + +<p>"I will do my best, Mrs. Dainton," replied Victor.</p> + +<p>"Marky" Zinsheimer, covertly throwing away his cigar, rose and bowed +before the English actress, while the footman stared in surprise, and +Victor seemed aghast at the presumption.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, Mrs. Dainton, it was I who smoked," said "Marky."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dainton surveyed him curiously through her lorgnette.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! You should have known better. I really think you had better +complain to the manager, Victor, about this person."</p> + +<p>"My name is Zinsheimer," bowed "Marky," smiling amiably. "Well-known<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +first-nighter in New York—go to all the theaters—maybe you've heard of +me. I'm known everywhere along Broadway. Perhaps you may remember I +bought the first box for your opening night last season. Yes, paid three +hundred dollars for it, too," he added proudly, as an afterthought.</p> + +<p>"Really?" repeated Mrs. Dainton, languidly. "Such things do not interest +me in the least. I never think of the sordid details of business—I live +only for my art."</p> + +<p>She passed him by as though he were merely a part of the furniture. +"Marky" gazed at her furtively, but slowly his composure deserted him. +He backed away carefully from this wonderful creation.</p> + +<p>"She lives only for her art, eh?" he murmured softly. "I got you—you'll +die young," he added to himself, as he drew another cigar from his +pocket, ostentatiously lighted it, and strolled out onto the veranda.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Victor, is the motor here?" demanded Mrs. Dainton.</p> + +<p>Victor shifted the Pomeranian to the other arm, stepped to the door of +the sun parlor, and reported that the chauffeur seemed to be tinkering +with the car.</p> + +<p>"And must I breathe this horrible atmosphere while that lazy chauffeur +pretends to fix the car? You must discharge him and get another."</p> + +<p>"But I say," broke in Gordon, "the man's the best driver I ever had. I +brought him from France."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if you brought him from Hindoostan," retorted Mrs. +Dainton, coldly. "When I say I will not use him after to-day, I mean +it." Reaching two daintily gloved hands toward the Pomeranian, snugly +ensconced under Victor's arm, the actress grasped its little, fuzzy +head, pressed it to her cheek, and smothered it with kisses. "And my +poor 'ittle Fuzzy-Wuzzy. Must 'oo breafe ze awful smoke, too, bress um +baby heartsums. Ums<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> 'ittle Fuzzy-Wuzzy is mamma's pet, isn't ums?"</p> + +<p>"The motor is ready now, Madame," ventured Victor stolidly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dainton handed the dog to Johanna.</p> + +<p>"Wrap the precious darling up warmly, Johanna," she said. "You ride with +me, Victor. Lizette, my cloak. Crawley, you ride in front with the +chauffeur and keep any dust from entering Fuzzy's eyes."</p> + +<p>As the procession started toward the waiting car, Gordon, who followed +close by the English actress, inquired:</p> + +<p>"Where shall we go to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Really, I don't think we shall have room for you to-day, Sanford," said +Mrs. Dainton, somewhat coldly, pausing at the top of the steps while the +maids, assisted by the footman and Victor, helped Fuzzy-Wuzzy tenderly +into the car.</p> + +<p>"That's what you have said for the past three days," Gordon cried +tensely. "And yet I brought my own machine and my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> own chauffeur out +here from New York just to please you."</p> + +<p>"And you are pleasing me a great deal, Sanford, by letting me go alone."</p> + +<p>"Will nothing I do ever move you?" inquired Gordon. Then, as he saw she +was more interested in the way Johanna was holding the Pomeranian, he +added fiercely: "Once you would have answered differently."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dainton turned on him, her manner a strange mingling of sadness and +regret.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, once," she said softly. "I loved you then without any thought +of the future, and I have paid for it with many, many bitter years of +repentance. Now, after all these years—years when you seemed to have +forgotten my very existence and the thing which you had once called +love—I return to America, praised and honored by those who in the old +days had treated me so lightly, you among the rest."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's not true," broke in Gordon. "I always loved you."</p> + +<p>"But we parted," continued Mrs. Dainton, bitterly. "And if I had +returned, needing your help instead of being able to reject all that you +can give, would you have come to me again?"</p> + +<p>"You know I should have."</p> + +<p>"No, Sanford, we seek only that which is beyond our reach," she said +softly, laying her hand on his arm. "The candle has burned out. Do not +try to relight it. I have been only an incident in your life—"</p> + +<p>"That's not true."</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose I know about the others?"</p> + +<p>"They were nothing to me. It was you, always you."</p> + +<p>"One who has been through the mill doesn't care to be crushed by the +mill-stones a second time. Take my advice, Sanford—return to New York, +seek out some nice young girl, and marry her."</p> + +<p>"Never!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Really!" Mrs. Dainton laughed lightly as she ran down the steps and was +helped into the car by the vigilant Victor. "Ta-ta, Sanford, I'll see +you to-morrow, or the day after." And in another moment the big, red +touring-car had whirled away, leaving upon the steps the solitary figure +of a tall, dark, good-looking chap of uncertain age, who clenched his +hands tightly, then turned suddenly as a bell-boy passed along the +veranda.</p> + +<p>"Boy!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Tell my valet to pack up at once. I'm leaving for New York to-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Very good, sir," closing a responsive palm. "Thank you, +sir."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>INTRODUCING MARTHA FARNUM</h3> + + +<p>In the cosmopolitan atmosphere of any famous health resort, strangely +contrasting types are often found. Amid the vain, the foolish, the +inebriates and the idle who flocked to the Springs for amusement and +diversion, there were a few who really came to seek health. For three +months, the gay passers-by on the shaded walks near the hotel had +noticed one such, an elderly lady, feeble, gray-haired, evidently +recovering from a severe illness, who invariably occupied a wheel-chair, +the motive power for which was furnished by a most attractive young girl +always clad in simple black. The girl was about nineteen, slender, +graceful, with the clear and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> partly sunburnt complexion which comes +from life spent much in the open air. Her eyes and hair were brown—her +eyes large and wistful, her hair light and wavy. She wore no jewelry, +and there was no suggestion of color about her costume. Yet there seemed +a certain lightness and gayety in her face which conveyed the impression +that sadness was not a component factor in her life. She smiled as, hour +after hour, she read to the invalid on the veranda, and seemed actually +to enjoy her task of wheeling the chair back and forth to the Springs in +the rear of the hotel.</p> + +<p>Once, when a traveling man who had strayed down to the Springs for a +weekend offered the front clerk a cheap cigar and expressed curiosity as +to the name of the young lady, that obliging encyclopedia explained:</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's Miss Farnum. She's old Mrs. Kilpatrick's companion. No, not +a nurse—sort of poor relative, I guess."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 414px;"> +<img src="images/illus042.jpg" width="414" height="650" alt=""Oh, that's Miss Farnum. She's Old Mrs. Kilpatrick's +companion."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Oh, that's Miss Farnum. She's Old Mrs. Kilpatrick's +companion."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>Whereupon the aforesaid traveling gentleman, disappointed at the obvious +impossibility of a chance to speak to Miss Farnum, whistled and said:</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, she's deuced pretty. I'd like to see her wearing a real gown."</p> + +<p>Martha's constant adherence to simple black gowns, however, was due to +two reasons. She wanted every one to know that she was there simply as a +companion: it saved her the necessity of pretending, for other girls of +her own age, guests of the hotel, made no advances of a social nature +which would have required reciprocity. Additionally, and even more +important, black was inexpensive and durable.</p> + +<p>For three months, now, Martha Farnum had been the companion of Mrs. +Kilpatrick, a wealthy invalid from Marion, a small town near +Indianapolis. Mrs. Kilpatrick was suffering from sciatic rheumatism, and +her physician had recommended a stay at the Springs. To her objection +that both her sons were too busy to accompany her, and that she knew no +one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> else who could act as a companion, the doctor had replied:</p> + +<p>"I know a person who will be ideal. Her name is Farnum; she's the +daughter of an old friend of mine who has been in hard luck for three +years. Lives on a farm near here. Martha is the eldest girl in a family +of seven, and I know she'll jump at the chance. You'll find her modest, +well-bred and well-educated, with just two faults"—he smiled at Mrs. +Kilpatrick's hesitation—"she's very pretty and very poor."</p> + +<p>Martha had been sent for, the arrangements made, and she found herself +for the first time in her life living at a real hotel, with all her +expenses paid and thirty-five dollars a month besides. Her duties were +not arduous, for the hotel servants attended to most of Mrs. +Kilpatrick's wants. She, however, read to the invalid, talked, laughed, +sang, pushed the chair around the beautiful walks, and dined with her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +Every afternoon, while Mrs. Kilpatrick took a nap, Martha was free.</p> + +<p>At first the hotel life dazzled her. It almost stunned her. The +transition from life on their humble farm, with all its privations and +discomforts, to what seemed to her a fairyland of lights, music, +beautiful gowns and jewels, and the wasteful extravagance and display of +wealth, seemed unreal and impossible. Back on the farm, as the eldest of +a family of seven, she had worked, endured—and hoped. But in her +wildest dreams she had never imagined such a beautiful escape. No one at +home had had the imagination to understand her. No one, unless perhaps +her father, had even sympathized with her in her dismay, when the panic +three years before had forced the little town bank to close, and a +hail-storm that same summer ruined their crops. For before that they had +intended to send her away to boarding-school at Logansport; she had even +passed her entrance examinations. Then, all that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> had to be forgotten in +the poverty that had followed.</p> + +<p>Now, for the first time, Martha was seeing <i>life</i>. It was new to her; it +frightened her, but still she was learning to love it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kilpatrick had been kind, and had grown to be genuinely fond of +her. Thus it was with a touch of sadness that she stopped Martha pushing +the chair up and down the veranda this same autumn afternoon, and +mentioned a subject which she had persistently ignored for three days.</p> + +<p>"Martha, dear, let me speak with you," said Mrs. Kilpatrick, suddenly. +"Bring up your chair," she added.</p> + +<p>"The doctor has told me," continued Mrs. Kilpatrick, "that he thinks a +sea voyage will be beneficial. He suggests that I spend the coming +winter in some warm climate, preferably Italy, and I have decided to do +so."</p> + +<p>Although uncertain as to just how it affected her, Martha could not +restrain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> her pleasure and excitement at the possible thought of going. +She clasped her hands convulsively, her eyes lighted up with +anticipation, and she cried gladly:</p> + +<p>"Lovely! And am I to go, too?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kilpatrick shook her head. "My dear child," she said sadly, "I am +sorry, but I shall be unable to take you. My sister, who is in New York, +is to accompany me," she explained. "I'm afraid I shall have to let you +return home this week. Unless," she added, "you can get something else +to do."</p> + +<p>"I must. I will. To return home now would be to admit defeat. I'll never +do that. And we're all so dreadfully poor. I haven't any right to impose +myself on them, now that I've commenced to earn my own living."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the doctor can suggest another position for you, child," said +Mrs. Kilpatrick.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. Anyway, I must make my own living," declared Martha, with +conviction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> "Other girls are doing it; I ought to be able to. I'll go +to New York or Chicago or some other big city, and I'll work at—at +something or other," she concluded, rather lamely.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kilpatrick smiled indulgently at her earnestness.</p> + +<p>"That's the proper spirit, my child," she said. "I'm sure something will +turn up."</p> + +<p>Martha gazed out through the trees, for at that moment the lumbering old +stage-coach came driving up from the little railroad station at the foot +of the hill, with a part of several carloads of visitors who had come on +the afternoon train from the North. She was still thinking rather +dismally of this sudden change in her future when a bell-boy brought a +card to Mrs. Kilpatrick.</p> + +<p>"I forgot to tell you, Martha," broke in the latter, glancing at the +card. "I was expecting a Mr. Clayton from New York. He is a well-known +collector of curios and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> is coming 'way out here very largely to look at +my collection of scarabs. I feel a little tired now. Won't you see him +for me, Martha, and show him the collection?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, Mrs. Kilpatrick."</p> + +<p>"Show Mr. Clayton here, please," she said to the boy, "and ask him to +wait." Then, as the boy departed, the invalid turned wearily to Martha: +"Take me to my room now, dear, then you can come back with the scarabs."</p> + +<p>George Clayton's thirty-three years sat lightly upon his shoulders, +though a close observer would have noticed that his clean-shaven face +was tanned a trifle more than one would expect, and one might likewise +have expressed surprise to find a slight suggestion of gray around the +edges of his slightly curly hair. The athletic build of his shoulders +and the erect bearing indicated that, while he might not be "the hope of +the white race" from a pugilistic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> standpoint, he was amply able to take +care of himself in any emergency.</p> + +<p>Clayton's visit to the Springs was two-fold. He needed a rest, for in +the course of a law practice which had developed amazingly in the past +seven years, he had overworked. The only recreations he had enjoyed had +been temporary, the persistent pursuit of a number of fads. Though not +wealthy, his unusual success at law had produced an income more than +sufficient for his needs, and the surplus had been used from time to +time in developing the latter. Just now one of these happened to be +Egyptian scarabs, and the well-known collection of Mrs. Kilpatrick +having been called to his attention, he had decided to take a vacation +and look at them.</p> + +<p>"Are you Mr. Clayton?"</p> + +<p>A slender, girlish figure, clasping a large leather case, stood before +him, and, as he smiled an assent and bowed, extended her hand in cordial +greeting.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pardon me—I expected to see Mrs. Kilpatrick," said Clayton.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say she is not well," said Martha. "I am her companion, +Miss Farnum."</p> + +<p>Clayton bowed again and murmured something unintelligible.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Kilpatrick asked me to show you the scarabs. Afterwards you can +tell her what you think of them."</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to do so. I shall probably envy them."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Kilpatrick tells me you are quite a collector."</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Clayton, slowly. "I have collected almost everything in +my time, except money."</p> + +<p>"It must be interesting," said Martha naïvely, sitting in one of the +easy rockers and opening the case, while Clayton drew his chair +alongside.</p> + +<p>"First it was postage stamps," explained Clayton, picking up one of the +queer little beetles and examining it intently. "But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> postage stamps +soon proved tiresome. Then came Indian relics, but they lost favor when +I took up antique weapons of war. Then I went in for emeralds and +jewels, but they proved too expensive. I think I have had twenty fads in +the last ten years."</p> + +<p>"But your business—hasn't that suffered?" Martha smiled.</p> + +<p>"Not a particle. I've had a glorious time, and my clients who knew of my +fads thought all the more of me because they fancied I must be a brainy +chap to have them." He laughed.</p> + +<p>"It must be wonderful to do as one pleases," mused Martha, gazing out +among the trees.</p> + +<p>Clayton laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Even that gets tiresome," he said. "The girl in the candy shop never +wants a caramel after the third day. Everything grows tiresome after a +while. Now that I've exhausted my list of fads, a horrible future +confronts me—thirty-three years of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> age, enough money to supply my +needs, and no new fad on which to waste the surplus. What am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"There's always the Salvation Army," laughed Martha.</p> + +<p>"Yes, or the Anti-Cigarette Society," he responded lightly.</p> + +<p>A porter carrying two large suit-cases, each covered with many foreign +labels, crossed the veranda toward the waiting 'bus at the foot of the +steps. Another man, evidently a valet, followed with more luggage, and +then a tall, distinguished-looking man of uncertain age emerged from the +hotel. He gazed curiously at Martha, but his eyes lighted up with +recognition when they fell upon Clayton.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Clayton, what are you doing here?" he inquired loudly.</p> + +<p>Clayton looked up with just a shadow of annoyance, but, with the +well-bred air of a gentleman, rose and extended his hand.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Gordon?" he said easily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> "I haven't seen you since the +Compton breach of promise case."</p> + +<p>Gordon winced at the reminder, but gave utterance to a forced laugh.</p> + +<p>"You toasted me to a turn that time," he admitted. "Do you know, +Clayton, ever since you had me on the witness stand, I've been wanting +to engage you to handle my own business."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," replied Clayton, coldly. "But I don't care for your kind of +business."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I prefer the kind where there is never a woman in the case."</p> + +<p>Gordon laughed again uneasily.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it every time a girl takes me seriously. I offered to +settle handsomely then, but like all these women, they think because I'm +rich I am an easy mark. Now, if you'll see me in New York—maybe we can +come to terms."</p> + +<p>"I fancy not," replied Clayton, briefly.</p> + +<p>Gordon's eyes, even during this brief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> conversation, had never left +Martha, whose attention was given to her scarabs.</p> + +<p>"Deuced pretty girl!" remarked Gordon, quietly, to Clayton. "You might +introduce me."</p> + +<p>"Are you leaving the hotel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—in a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"Then I've no objection. Miss Farnum, may I present Mr. Sanford Gordon, +of New York?"</p> + +<p>"Charmed to meet you, Miss Farnum," cried Gordon, extending his hand as +Martha merely bowed. "Sorry I'm leaving the hotel just when I meet the +only interesting person here." Then, aside to Clayton as he bowed to +Martha and passed out of earshot: "Who is she?"</p> + +<p>Clayton coughed ominously.</p> + +<p>"She is the companion of a Mrs. Kilpatrick."</p> + +<p>Gordon's face showed his disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say," he murmured. "A paid companion? Anyhow, she's deuced +good-looking."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> He glanced back at Martha, then turned. "See you in New +York, Clayton, and don't forget my offer."</p> + +<p>"I didn't care to introduce him to you, Miss Farnum," explained Clayton, +after Gordon had driven away in the 'bus. "He's not the sort of man I +should care to have any girl know well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's of no consequence," laughed Martha. "I have heard of him. The +Sunday papers have printed lots of stories about his little attentions +to actresses. He's been with that English actress here most of the +time."</p> + +<p>"He generally is with some kind of an actress," admitted Clayton.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dainton, I mean. Is she such a great actress?"</p> + +<p>"Well," sparred Clayton, carefully examining another scarab, "opinions +differ as to her greatness."</p> + +<p>"But she must make an awful lot of money," insisted Martha.</p> + +<p>"She <i>spends</i> an awful lot."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Isn't that the same thing?"</p> + +<p>"Not always. You have to get the money before you can spend it."</p> + +<p>"Then she has another income, like Mrs. Kilpatrick, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"She probably has another income, only it's not quite the same. In +fact—But I don't think we had better worry about her, Miss Farnum."</p> + +<p>"But I'm interested. Perhaps—why, perhaps I might go on the stage +myself, some day," added Martha, suddenly, as an afterthought.</p> + +<p>"You go on the stage?" laughed Clayton. "Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see why it is nonsense," cried Martha, rising to her feet so +suddenly that Clayton had only time to grasp the case of precious +scarabs in time to save them from a fall. "I must do something, and from +what I have seen of theatrical people here at this hotel, they all have +plenty of money. Even that Miss Forsythe, who dresses so loudly, earns a +lot."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>Clayton leaned back in his chair and laughed.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," he tried to explain, "I know the girl you mean. She's a +show-girl in New York. I saw her at the station just now when my train +arrived. To see her in that elaborate costume, you wouldn't believe that +her salary is just twenty dollars a week, would you?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty dollars a week?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She's in the chorus."</p> + +<p>"But how can she afford to stay at this hotel on such a salary?"</p> + +<p>At that Clayton coughed and began to sort out the scarabs.</p> + +<p>"She probably also has an—er—independent source of income," he +stammered.</p> + +<p>"Could I get twenty dollars a week on the stage?" inquired Martha, +thoughtfully, not noticing his confusion.</p> + +<p>"Very likely, if you are willing to start in the chorus," replied +Clayton.</p> + +<p>Martha clenched her fists with determination.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, I'd start at the very bottom; I'd work like anything, to succeed," +she said tensely.</p> + +<p>Clayton closed the case and rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Really, Miss Farnum, I didn't know you were so much in earnest about +it," he explained.</p> + +<p>"You see, my service with Mrs. Kilpatrick ends in a few days," said +Martha, simply. "She is going to Italy, and there is nothing left for me +to do but return home, and our people are too poor and I must earn a +living to help them."</p> + +<p>"So you really want to go on the stage?" said Clayton, thoughtfully. "I +wouldn't advise it. There are too many dangers, too many temptations."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I care for the dangers?" cried Martha, almost +contemptuously. "All of the temptations are not on the stage. The +department stores, the shops, the offices—why not think of them? Girls +work there, hundreds and thousands of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> them. But the moment a girl +mentions the stage, some one cries out about the temptations. It's +absurd."</p> + +<p>The fiery outburst of the young girl startled Clayton, who realized that +in an argument on this theme he was likely to be worsted. Moreover, he +was placed in the unenviable position of being obliged to argue against +a course which he felt sure would be disastrous, or at least difficult, +while during their short talk he had grown to be genuinely interested in +Martha. Like a prudent general, he sought safety in retreat.</p> + +<p>"About these scarabs," he began, "I should like to speak to Mrs. +Kilpatrick."</p> + +<p>Martha's thoughts, however, so suddenly directed to a new channel, were +difficult to concentrate on anything so mundane as scarabs. It was +several seconds before she recollected herself and answered his +question:</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she repeated. "Mrs. Kilpatrick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> is in parlor A. She said she +would be glad to see you a little later."</p> + +<p>Clayton bowed. "And I won't say farewell," he said, "as I'll surely see +you at dinner."</p> + +<p>"The stage," repeated Martha, dreamily, after he had gone, sinking into +one of the large chairs and placing both hands to her throbbing temples. +"The stage. Why not? Why not?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>A GLIMPSE INTO THE PAST</h3> + + +<p>"This is the sun parlor, Pinkie," cried Flossie, ushering in the girl +who had just found a haven of refuge and a sanctuary for the penniless +at the Springs. "My word, but we do put on style at this rest-cure. I'm +having the time of my young life."</p> + +<p>Pinkie Lexington gazed around her, and sighed with relief. The +well-dressed women in the distance made her instinctively think of her +own somewhat bedraggled tailor-made suit, badly wrinkled from the train +journey. Even at its best, it suggested the "Take me home for $12.99" +signs of the bargain counters. Furthermore, Pinkie's hat was of the +early<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> spring vintage, and the ribbon was faded. Her pride and her glory +had always been her hair, large blond masses of which protruded from +beneath the rim of her straw hat, but a visit to a hair-dresser was a +luxury Pinkie had not known in months. Added to this, Pinkie had become +unusually heavy—and therefore always in need of the most perfect +grooming in order to keep up appearances—and it may be easily +understood that she was not appearing to the best advantage. This fact +Flossie had noticed with keen inward delight, for her own smartness and +prettiness naturally took on added luster when placed in contrast with +poor Pinkie's poverty.</p> + +<p>But Pinkie sighed with contentment. Notwithstanding a few personal +deficiencies of dress and adornment, it was a relief to be in a hotel +where one could be assured of three excellent meals a day.</p> + +<p>"It's grand to be in a real place after those awful one-night stands," +sighed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> Pinkie. "But I'm afraid I won't really enjoy it—I'm on a diet."</p> + +<p>"What?" inquired Flossie.</p> + +<p>"I'm reducing," insisted Pinkie, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you go on a diet last week when you were broke?" demanded +Flossie. "Now, you are here as my guest, and if you don't eat I'll be +insulted. Just wait until I introduce you to Mr. Zinsheimer."</p> + +<p>"I'm just dying to meet him," said Pinkie, demurely. "<i>Feathers</i>, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"One of the biggest importers in New York," said Flossie, proudly. "He's +a real gentleman. Nothing but wine."</p> + +<p>"I know I shall like him," repeated Pinkie.</p> + +<p>Flossie peered at her chum suspiciously, and then laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, don't like him too much. I saw him first."</p> + +<p>Pinkie's large eyes almost filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"Why, Flossie, how can you? I'm sure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> I don't want to steal your +gentleman friend."</p> + +<p>Flossie put her arm affectionately around Pinkie's somewhat large waist +and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear, I was only joking. Of course you know it is +understood that Mr. Zinsheimer and I are to get married as soon as my +lawsuit is settled."</p> + +<p>Zinsheimer himself entered at this juncture, and Pinkie was formally +introduced to the generous feather importer. She started to cry as he +patted her hand cordially, holding it just a trifle longer than was +absolutely necessary, and thereby eliciting a warning look from the +alert Flossie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Zinsheimer, it's such a relief to meet a real gentleman," cried +Pinkie, half in tears. "Honestly, I could almost hug you for your +kindness to a poor little shipwrecked, stranded girl. I am so helpless +and alone."</p> + +<p>"There, there, now, don't cry," protested<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> "Marky." "Your Uncle Marky +will see that you don't go hungry this trip."</p> + +<p>At this point Flossie dexterously inserted herself between the couple +and coughed until "Marky" let Pinkie's hand drop.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I say you'd like him, Pinkie?" she observed sharply.</p> + +<p>"Let's go over and play roulette," suggested Zinsheimer. "Maybe we can +win enough to get Pinkie a new outfit, eh?" And he looked doubtfully +over the somewhat worn suit which was poor Pinkie's only possession.</p> + +<p>At that Pinkie sobbed audibly. "I'm sorry to disgrace you," she wailed, +"but the horrid manager of the hotel in Indianapolis wouldn't let me +take my trunk until I paid him seventeen dollars and forty-five cents. +And where could I get all that money?"</p> + +<p>Zinsheimer patted her hand encouragingly. "Come over to the Casino," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +whispered. "We'll try our luck at the wheel." And with Flossie clinging +to his right arm and Pinkie to his left, the genial feather importer +started toward the Casino. At the head of the stairway the trio almost +collided with Mrs. Dainton's footman, who was carrying the Pomeranian. +Close behind came Mrs. Dainton herself, her maids, and her manager. +Zinsheimer whispered to the girls quickly.</p> + +<p>"That's the English actress," he said quietly. "I once knew her, but we +don't speak now as we pass by. Let's be real supercilious."</p> + +<p>So, as Zinsheimer and the girls passed by ostentatiously, Pinkie and +Flossie, taking their cue, broke forth into peals of merry laughter, +while Zinsheimer so guided the party that Mrs. Dainton had to step to +one side to avoid Flossie's rattling chatelaines.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dainton sank into an easy-chair, and Victor hurriedly adjusted the +cushions for her comfort.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I beg Madame's pardon, but when shall we leave?" inquired the +obsequious personal manager.</p> + +<p>"I don't expect to leave at all," replied Mrs. Dainton, sharply.</p> + +<p>Anxious to get her back to New York, Mrs. Dainton's manager hoped this +last annoyance would move her.</p> + +<p>"But the rehearsals for your new play," he said.</p> + +<p>"Wire the New York management to send the company out here. We will +rehearse here."</p> + +<p>Weldon could not refrain from an audible expression of despair, being +for a moment dumbfounded at the thought of the expense. Neither Mrs. +Dainton nor her manager noticed that a young girl in a simple black +gown, who had evidently been searching for a magazine left in one of the +chairs, had heard what they said.</p> + +<p>"But if the players don't suit—" expostulated Weldon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Send them back to New York and get another lot."</p> + +<p>"But that will be very expensive."</p> + +<p>"What of that?" inquired Mrs. Dainton, languidly. "It's not my money."</p> + +<p>Weldon hesitated and then bowed.</p> + +<p>"Just as you say, Madame," he said weakly. "I will wire the New York +management." And scarcely able to conceal his indignation at this latest +whim, Weldon withdrew to telegraph their New York backers the full +details of her latest eccentricity.</p> + +<p>Martha Farnum, still holding the magazine she had recovered, hesitated. +Then, struck by a sudden thought, she came forward timidly to the famous +actress.</p> + +<p>"May I—may I speak to you just for a moment?" she asked nervously.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dainton turned in surprise, looked her over carefully from head to +foot, and asked carelessly: "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Martha Farnum, and—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I heard you just now—"</p> + +<p>"It isn't a nice thing to listen."</p> + +<p>"But I couldn't help it—"</p> + +<p>"You mean I spoke so loudly?"</p> + +<p>"No—but you spoke so distinctly—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dainton smiled with pleasure. "The critics always said my voice +carried well, and that my enunciation was perfect," she said, flattered. +"Well, what can I do for you, my dear?"</p> + +<p>Martha hesitated and stammered. "I—I am anxious to go on the stage," +she faltered.</p> + +<p>"What can you do?" inquired Mrs. Dainton.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell until I have tried," confessed Martha.</p> + +<p>"You mean you have had no experience? I'm sorry, but I've made it a rule +never to give any young girl her first engagement on the stage."</p> + +<p>"But why?" gasped Martha.</p> + +<p>"Because I don't approve of their going on the stage."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yet you yourself have won success," argued Martha. "And you must have +started some time."</p> + +<p>Motioning Martha to bring a chair and sit beside her, Mrs. Dainton +leaned forward impulsively and took her hands in her own.</p> + +<p>"You don't know all that my success has cost me, my dear," she said +simply. "Success is a wonderful thing, but the road to it is paved with +temptations."</p> + +<p>"I know all that, but surely there must be some way to overcome the +obstacles," insisted Martha.</p> + +<p>"I once thought the same," mused Mrs. Dainton, with a far-away look in +her eyes. "But there came a time when I hated myself, and all the world. +Shall I tell you a story, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"I would love to hear it," replied Martha, earnestly, gazing into the +eyes of the elder woman.</p> + +<p>"Once there was another girl, like you: young, ambitious, innocent," +began Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> Dainton, softly. "She, too, was poor and wretched. But some +people called her handsome. As so many others have done under similar +circumstances, she turned toward the stage. She commenced at the very +bottom in the chorus of a London musical production. The company she was +with came to America, and little by little she progressed, but oh, it +was such hard work and the poverty was so grinding. Her salary was +almost nothing. Soon, in this strange country, she was in debt. The +landlady of her boarding-house was kind for a week or so, but the girl +was hopelessly involved. Then, one day, a note came to the theater. She +opened it, and found inside—a hundred-dollar bill."</p> + +<p>"A hundred-dollar bill?" repeated Martha, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, without a word of explanation. The girl didn't know what to do +with the money. She could not return it. She finally spent it."</p> + +<p>"A hundred dollars!" repeated Martha.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A few nights later came another note. Another hundred-dollar bill. A +third and a fourth followed. Flowers, diamonds, a love-letter, and last +of all—a man."</p> + +<p>"A man?" repeated Martha, curiously.</p> + +<p>"The man had a fortune. The girl was penniless. She couldn't repay the +money, for she had spent it. The man was kind, courteous, +good-looking—in short, just the kind of man to win a girl's heart."</p> + +<p>"And so they were married?" ventured Martha.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear." Mrs. Dainton shook her head sadly. "They did not marry. +He gave her everything money could buy, and she, poor fool, accepted it. +When the inevitable happened, when the man left her without a word of +farewell, she reaped the bitterness she had sown. But the experience +gave her renewed energy. She was determined to triumph in spite of it. +And she did. She succeeded. Years afterward she met that man again. She +saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> him humble himself a second time before her feet and beg her love +in vain."</p> + +<p>"That was splendid," cried Martha, clasping her hands.</p> + +<p>"It was the only punishment she could inflict," added Mrs. Dainton, +bitterly, rising to her feet and beckoning to her maid. "He had made her +suffer deeply, and though she had been proud of her success, the +proudest moment of her life was when she publicly humiliated the man who +had deceived and wronged her in the past."</p> + +<p>Martha rose to her feet, and held out her hand in sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry, Mrs. Dainton," she said simply.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, my dear child?" repeated Mrs. Dainton, cheerfully. "Why need you +be? That was what happened to a friend of mine, and that's why I will +not help you or any one else to go on the stage."</p> + +<p>"But surely," cried Martha, desperately, "some people succeed without +pain and unhappiness?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Dainton kissed the girl affectionately.</p> + +<p>"You are young, and like all young people, you flatter yourself that you +will be the exception," she said. "Good-bye, my dear. I dare say all my +advice will be wasted, for if it is in the blood, if you have the call +of the footlights in your soul and the fire of ambition in your heart, +nothing can stop you in your career; neither the advice of an old woman +nor the experience of others. Good-bye, my dear. Au revoir."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>STRICTLY A BUSINESS BARGAIN</h3> + + +<p>Clayton found Martha in a corner of the veranda ten minutes later, in a +brown study.</p> + +<p>"Here, this will never do," he began cheerfully. "Is it as bad as that?"</p> + +<p>Martha looked up with an attempt at cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>"It is of no consequence," she said simply. "You wouldn't understand."</p> + +<p>"Am I so dense as all that?" he protested. "Any one with half an eye +could see that you are in trouble, and I'd like to help if I can be of +any assistance."</p> + +<p>Martha looked up at the lawyer hopefully. "Mr. Clayton," she said, "Mrs. +Kilpatrick says you are from New York.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> I've never been there. A few +moments ago I said I wanted to go on the stage, and you laughed at me. +Now, may I ask you seriously for your advice, and will you give me a +serious answer?"</p> + +<p>Clayton sat down by her side. "Fire away," he commanded.</p> + +<p>"In the first place, I have firmly decided to go on the stage," +explained Martha. "I have great ambition, I have been told that I read +well, and I must make a living somehow. That settled, the only problem +is the way to go at it. Will you advise me?"</p> + +<p>"But you are not cut out for that sort of life," protested Clayton. +"You—you should marry—you'll find more real happiness there."</p> + +<p>"Have you done that?" inquired Martha.</p> + +<p>"That's different. I'm a man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, and being one, you think we women can't get along without +you."</p> + +<p>"No one can live happily without love."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you have success, you don't need love," insisted Martha.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," Clayton tried to explain, "the greatest success means +nothing if the right person does not share it with you."</p> + +<p>Martha rose to her feet proudly.</p> + +<p>"I will risk its meaning nothing if I can only have it."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that?" inquired Clayton, looking at her.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you have made up your mind that you must have a career?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely."</p> + +<p>Clayton half laughed at her earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Have you any money?" he asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>"No," admitted Martha, reluctantly. "That is, not much."</p> + +<p>"Then how will you begin?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You will find money very necessary."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll manage somehow," declared Martha, with conviction.</p> + +<p>Clayton gazed at her curiously for a few moments. Something about the +girl must have struck him as being distinctly out of the ordinary. Twice +he started to speak, but each time hesitated as though uncertain what to +say. "I've got an idea," he blurted out finally.</p> + +<p>Martha turned toward him inquiringly, but did not speak.</p> + +<p>"I'll assist you," explained Clayton. "Suppose I lend you the necessary +capital for you to go to New York and live until you meet with this +success you are determined shall come to you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I couldn't let you do that," protested Martha. "People might +talk, and anyhow, I am determined to succeed on my merits, if at all."</p> + +<p>"Wait," interrupted Clayton. "This is a cold-blooded business +proposition. If a man opens a store, he must have capital to start with. +If a miner goes prospecting,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> he must have some one 'grub-stake' him to +start—that is, give him food and money to last until he strikes pay +dirt. In any venture it is the same; capital is necessary—why not let +me capitalize yours? After you succeed, you can pay back the original +investment, with regular business interest."</p> + +<p>"But if I fail—you have no security."</p> + +<p>"That's my risk. Besides, I've another reason. I have spent enough on +the different fads I've had to send a dozen girls through college. I've +wasted thousands of dollars collecting useless things like old postage +stamps and antiques, but never once has it occurred to me to collect +samples of character."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand." Martha's eyes were wide open in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Your attitude toward success interests me."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it is justified," insisted Martha.</p> + +<p>"That remains to be seen. It is understood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> that I will start you on +this career purely as a business proposition. But if I am to furnish the +money, I must have the controlling interest in the partnership. You are +to be absolutely guided by what I say, to be responsible to me, and to +follow my advice in all things."</p> + +<p>"Won't I even have a minority vote?" pouted Martha.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the presiding officer can overrule you any time he wishes. In +other words, I shall be practically your—your—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Your guardian. But remember—if I start you on this life where you will +be plunged at once into the vortex of all that is fascinating and +attractive, you will perhaps find many admirers. No dragging Love along +with Success if we should meet him on the way."</p> + +<p>Martha clapped her hands gleefully.</p> + +<p>"I shall be too busy cultivating Success<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> to even recognize Love if I +should meet him," she cried gaily.</p> + +<p>"Good. Then it's down with Love?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded Martha. "And up with Success."</p> + +<p>"Then that's settled," responded Clayton, in a businesslike tone, +looking at his watch. "And now I think we'd better get some dinner."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>"WHERE EVERYTHING IS HOMELIKE"</h3> + + +<p>"If there's one thing I'm proud of about my boarding-house," insisted +Mrs. Anderson, when discussing the <i>pension</i> for vagrant Thespians which +she had conducted for many years, "it's the homelike atmosphere. Makes +folks feel at home right away, the moment they set foot in my parlor."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Anderson, commonly called "Aunt Jane" by the professional patrons +who came back to her hospitable roof year after year, was justly proud +of the affection and esteem in which she was obviously held. A motherly +old lady of not less than fifty, a widow with no children, Mrs. Anderson +devoted her entire time to maintaining<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> an establishment which should be +unique. Actors as a rule dread boarding-houses. There is something about +such institutions which instinctively causes a chill of apprehension to +run up and down their backs. Especially is this true of boarding-houses +which advertise that they cater to the theatrical profession. But the +instant image of cheapness, squalor, ill-kept rooms and badly cooked +food, which is conjured up by the mere mention of "theatrical +boarding-house," has no relation to Aunt Jane's.</p> + +<p>Hers was different. It is hard to tell how, but when once a visitor +entered her front parlor it seemed different from all the rest. +Old-fashioned in some respects, it was strictly up to date in others. +There was no red table-cloth on the table, no gilt-framed chromos on +wooden easels, no landscapes in glaring colors on the walls. Instead, on +the piano, on the mantel, and even on the walls, one found neatly framed +photos of theatrical celebrities,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> which, as one could see upon close +examination, were autographed, with here and there a few homely +sentiments of good wishes "To Dear Aunt Jane."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Anderson's establishment, in fact, was one of the last of a fast +disappearing type of boarding-house, the extinction of which will never +be regretted in spite of the natural sorrow at the passing of a home +with so many virtues as that presided over by the estimable "Aunt Jane." +But modern apartment hotels, in which excellent accommodations can be +had for the same price one formerly gave for a hall bedroom, are +numbering the days of the old brownstone front boarding-houses in the +neighborhood of the New York theatrical district. Mrs. Anderson's was +but a stone's throw from Broadway, in a house which had once been a +feature of the social life of the city; but day after day now, the grim +sound of exploding dynamite in neighboring streets came as a warning +that modern skyscrapers and steel buildings<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> were gradually supplanting +the older structures.</p> + +<p>For twenty-three years Mrs. Anderson had conducted her homelike +establishment. As keenly alert to business now as formerly, Mrs. +Anderson was careful not to let her house deteriorate. Which explains +why, on a certain Saturday afternoon in mid-winter, she was busily +engaged in personally superintending the rearrangement of the parlor +furniture and the placing of certain photographs on the mantel and the +piano. Lizzie, the maid of all work, entered with a card, for Mrs. +Anderson had been so absorbed in her work that she had not heard the +bell ring.</p> + +<p>"Arthur Mortimer, leading juve<i>nile</i>," read Lizzie, as Mrs. Anderson +turned toward her. "He's in the hall. Say, what's a juve<i>nile</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Refers to the kind of work he does," responded Mrs. Anderson, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Work?" repeated Lizzie, astounded. "Why, he's an actor."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>The unconscious sarcasm of the remark was passed unnoticed by Mrs. +Anderson.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mortimer turned out to be a pleasing young chap, smartly but not +expensively dressed, about twenty-two years of age, and very nervous. He +twirled his derby in his hands, and seemed quite embarrassed when Mrs. +Anderson beamed a cordial welcome upon him.</p> + +<p>"I—I am looking for a room," began Mortimer. "I was referred to you."</p> + +<p>"Are you in the profession?" inquired Aunt Jane, motioning toward a +comfortable arm-chair.</p> + +<p>"I graduated last June from the dramatic school, but I haven't done much +yet. I couldn't afford expensive rooms—"</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Mr. Mortimer," interrupted Aunt Jane. "I like to have +beginners. They pay their bills. And I only want refined people who +behave themselves. Of course a little impromptu frivolity makes every +one feel at home, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> if there's one thing I always try to do, it is to +make my house homelike."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it is that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. A real home, especially for the lonely young girls I have +living with me here. Why, I have one young lady staying here now who is +under my <i>special</i> protection. The gentleman who sent her to me said he +knew of my reputation, and that he wanted me to be a <i>real mother</i> to +her."</p> + +<p>"I hope I may be admitted into this happy family," ventured Mortimer, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"I'm so proud of his trust in me," continued Aunt Jane, evidently +started on a pet theme, "that I never let that girl out of my +sight—except, of course, when she's at the theater. And I have to +telephone him every day and tell him what she's doing. But how I run +on—here's Lizzie, who will show you some of the rooms. Did you want a +big room or a small room?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That depends on the price," stammered Mortimer, rising.</p> + +<p>Lizzie had handed Mrs. Anderson a telegram, and stood waiting for +instructions.</p> + +<p>"Lizzie, show Mr. Mortimer the vacant rooms on the third and fourth +floors front," directed Aunt Jane, tearing open the dispatch. "Oh, by +the way, Mr. Mortimer, do you happen to have a photograph you can let me +have?"</p> + +<p>"My photograph?" repeated Mortimer, surprised and flattered. "I have +some in my trunk."</p> + +<p>"If you come with us I'll want to include yours in my collection of +famous actors," explained Aunt Jane.</p> + +<p>"But I'm not famous—" protested Mortimer.</p> + +<p>"Never mind—you will be some day. You see all these photographs of +celebrities"—she waved her hand—"all of these people are with me now, +except Maude Adams, Ethel Barrymore and one or two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> others. Somewhere in +this house I have a photograph of every actor or actress who ever stayed +here. Fifteen years and more I've kept them. Many a famous star of +to-day gave me a photograph years ago, when only an unknown lodger in my +happy little home."</p> + +<p>"I'll sure bring you one," cried the delighted Mortimer. As he started +toward the hall, with Lizzie as his guide, Mrs. Anderson called after +them:</p> + +<p>"One moment, Lizzie," she cried, holding the telegram. "Mr. Lawrence is +coming from Boston this evening and wants his old room. Be sure and have +it ready."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," responded the ubiquitous Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"And just a moment," continued Mrs. Anderson, in a confidential tone, +beckoning to the slavey. "Go up to the garret and get me that large +picture of Mr. Lawrence we had on the piano last time he was here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here, take this one with you," added Aunt Jane, craftily, picking up a +photograph of a blond man with curly hair. "It's Jimmy Carlton—he's +gone to California and won't be back until spring. Put this one away +with the others. And see that Mr. Lawrence's picture is nicely dusted. I +want him to feel at home when he comes in and sees it on the piano."</p> + +<p>Mortimer, who was busily looking at the photographs, suddenly saw one he +recognized.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that Flossie Forsythe?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"The very same," answered Mrs. Anderson. "She's staying here, too—she +and her chum, Miss Lexington. Lizzie, show Mr. Mortimer the house—and +Lizzie," she added confidentially, "recommend the fourth floor front. It +ain't no more, but the bath always rents the third easier."</p> + +<p>Half a moment later, with Lizzie on the fourth floor, the bell rang +again and this time Mrs. Anderson herself was compelled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> to answer it. A +messenger boy with a large box of flowers stepped into the hallway. Mrs. +Anderson took the box and looked at the card.</p> + +<p>"For Miss Farnum?" she sniffed. "Humph! This is the third time since +Sunday she's had flowers from somewhere. Who sent them, boy?"</p> + +<p>The snub-nosed Mercury gazed up at her and winked.</p> + +<p>"How d'je t'ink I knows de guy's name?" he retorted.</p> + +<p>"Impudent!" replied Aunt Jane.</p> + +<p>"An' say, lady, I got a note also for Miss—Miss Farnum."</p> + +<p>"Give it to me, then, you young rascal."</p> + +<p>"Nixey." The boy shook his head and winked again. "Told me to give it to +Miss Farnum 'erself."</p> + +<p>"But I can give it to her."</p> + +<p>"Maybe my eye's green, too," answered the messenger. "De gent who give +me dis said give it only to her. If she ain't in, I got to come back +when she is."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Farnum is not in," declared Aunt Jane, indignantly. "And you're a +rude, disrespectful boy, to speak so to your elders."</p> + +<p>"Well, say, when will her nibs get back?"</p> + +<p>"In about half an hour," retorted Aunt Jane, slamming the door on him +and taking the box into the parlor. Once there, she peered curiously at +the box. It was only an ordinary florist's box, but a big one, and it +evidently contained costly, long-stemmed American Beauties. There was a +small note attached to the box, with the name "Martha Farnum" on the +envelope.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Anderson debated about five seconds whether or not it was her duty +to examine the note. Of course she had no right to look, but she +concluded that her position as Martha's temporary guardian demanded that +she examine carefully anything that would throw light upon the person<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +who was sending so many flowers to her young charge.</p> + +<p>"There's a card inside, sure, and perhaps a name," she argued, with easy +sophistry. "It's my duty to look. Some young spark is trying to make +love to Martha under my very nose."</p> + +<p>She nervously tore off the envelope, opened it and took out a card. She +read it and threw up her hands in disappointment. The card was blank, +except for the written words: "From your unknown admirer."</p> + +<p>"Hello! Blooms! For me?" cried Flossie Forsythe, resplendent in furs and +a large picture-hat, bursting into the room just as Mrs. Anderson +replaced the card. "Pinkie, look at the flowers some one sent me," she +added, turning to summon the sad-eyed Miss Lexington, who still appeared +dejected and deserted as she stood in the doorway, last season's +walking-suit hanging unevenly from her highly developed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> figure and +appearing a trifle tight in certain spots.</p> + +<p>"I suppose Marky sent them," said Pinkie, dropping upon the sofa in +disgust. "I wish some guy would slip me a beef-steak over the footlights +some time instead of flowers."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Anderson politely but firmly rescued the flowers from Flossie's +clutches.</p> + +<p>"For Miss Farnum," she said coldly, taking the box to the piano out of +harm's way.</p> + +<p>"What rot," ejaculated Flossie. "I never seen a girl get so many +flowers."</p> + +<p>Pinkie sighed. "I haven't had an orchid this season," she said sadly.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear," cried Flossie, sinking onto the sofa by her side. +"Wait until the new show goes on, and we both make hits. You'll be +covered with flowers."</p> + +<p>"It will take some flowers to cover me," responded Pinkie, surveying her +ample girth with regret. "But what gets me, is how Martha Farnum wins +out with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> boobs who send her flowers. Why, she ain't got no style. +And she's only a beginner in the chorus, too."</p> + +<p>"But they do say she's made the biggest hit ever known in the Casino +since I left last spring," drawled Flossie, carelessly.</p> + +<p>"Pity you didn't stay, dear," smiled Pinkie. "But then, of course, you +weren't in the chorus."</p> + +<p>"I should say not," cried Flossie, indignantly. "I haven't been in any +chorus for two years. It's sextettes or nothing with me hereafter, and +you know I don't have to work."</p> + +<p>"How's your lawsuit coming on?" inquired Pinkie, innocently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the lawyers are still fighting."</p> + +<p>"Where is this lawsuit, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, somewhere out in British Columbia. You wouldn't know the name of +the town if I told you. If I win, I am going to star in musical comedy."</p> + +<p>"And if you lose?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<img src="images/illus100.jpg" width="650" height="517" alt=""I haven't had an orchid this season."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"I haven't had an orchid this season."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Back to the sextette, I guess, unless Mr. Zinsheimer will star me."</p> + +<p>"Where is 'Feathers'?" yawned Pinkie. "Haven't seen him for a week."</p> + +<p>"Never you mind where he is," retorted Flossie, suddenly turning to her +chum, suspiciously. "You've been askin' too many questions about Mr. +Zinsheimer lately. Don't you be ungrateful. Remember all I did for you."</p> + +<p>Pinkie almost cried at this unjust insinuation. "Why, Flossie," she half +sobbed, "I don't want Marky. The idea of thinking I'd want to steal him +away from my dearest friend."</p> + +<p>As Flossie consoled Pinkie and apologized, Mrs. Anderson approached a +delicate subject nervously but with a determination strengthened by the +memory of many similar occasions. "Young ladies," she began, "I hope you +haven't forgotten about our little account."</p> + +<p>"It shall be settled this evening, without fail," replied Flossie, +rising haughtily. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> am sorry if I have inconvenienced you, but you +shall have a check after dinner."</p> + +<p>"You know I am perfectly willing to let the bills run on," explained +Mrs. Anderson, with that ever-present doubt that one always has in +dunning delinquents, "but neither of you young ladies has been trying to +get a position."</p> + +<p>"Not trying, indeed," repeated Pinkie. "We go to the managers' offices +every day, but the horrid brutes will not see us."</p> + +<p>"But look at Miss Farnum," said Aunt Jane. "She came here without +experience, and secured an engagement instantly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, in the chorus," sneered Flossie. "Fancy us in the chorus," rising +and glancing admiringly at her well-rounded figure. "I want lines."</p> + +<p>"But Martha didn't mind the chorus," cried Mrs. Anderson, warmly. "She +began at the bottom, and if I do say it myself, I am proud of the way +she has succeeded."</p> + +<p>"Succeeded?" repeated Flossie. "I guess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> she has, if you judge by the +number of times messenger boys bring her notes and flowers and presents. +I'll bet there's a diamond tiara hidden in those flowers now." She moved +toward the box, picked it up curiously, and lifted the top. "American +Beauties, eh?" she added. "I counted the number of messenger boys who +came here yesterday to see Martha, and how many do you think there were? +Seven."</p> + +<p>"I half believe she sends the things to herself," pouted Pinkie, +maliciously.</p> + +<p>"She couldn't, my dear, on eighteen dollars a week in the chorus," +laughed Flossie. "There's no use talking, Aunt Jane—Martha may have +been a little wild-flower when she blew into New York from the woods of +Indiana or Ohio or wherever it was, but one thing you must give her +credit for: some one must be awfully stuck on her."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>A HUNDRED-DOLLAR BILL</h3> + + +<p>Martha walked home from the theater. It was after the matinée, in early +winter, the period of the year when upper Broadway is the most wonderful +street in all the world. Crowds of smartly dressed women and +well-groomed men surged to and fro; taxicabs and private limousines +darted in every direction; the clanging of the gongs of the street-cars +and the shrill cries of newsboys added to the general confusion; and the +lights of a thousand electric signs glared brilliantly in the +semi-darkness of early nightfall. Shop windows tempted the passer-by +most alluringly, and Martha gazed longingly into many of them, but shook +her head resolutely at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> the mere notion of purchasing anything. This was +New York. This was life. At last she, Martha Farnum, an insignificant +atom from a remote country town, was on Broadway, actually a part of +Broadway life, for she was the second girl from the end in the new +Casino production, "The Pet of Paris," and for more than four months now +had been thrilled, fascinated and enthralled by the lure of the stage.</p> + +<p>During all these weeks, she had lived quietly and regularly at Mrs. +Anderson's boarding-house. Clayton had met her at the Grand Central +Station when she arrived in New York and had taken her to the place, +introducing her to Mrs. Anderson in words which she had resented, though +she had realized at the time that he was quite justified in his demands.</p> + +<p>"Miss Farnum will be in your charge," he had explained. "It is +understood that she is to do exactly as you direct in all things. She is +not to accept dinner invitations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> from any one, she is to come straight +home after each performance, and she is to go nowhere unless you +accompany her."</p> + +<p>These galling restrictions were now, however, beginning to prove +irksome. Youth cannot be chained too tightly without tugging at its +bonds. So it was with Martha after four months of the free-and-easy +associations behind the scenes, where even the best behaved girl will +talk of the little supper at which she was a guest the night before. In +fact, the hard work of rehearsals and the unusual hours which the stage +requires its people to adopt, often made Martha wish that she, too, +could have the freedom and the privileges which the other girls in "The +Pet of Paris" enjoyed.</p> + +<p>Consequently, when she arrived home this particular afternoon and threw +herself into a large easy-chair, utterly tired, and just a little +regretful that she had to dine in the somewhat gloomy, old-fashioned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +house, it was not with the greatest pleasure in the world that she +prepared to answer to the usual cross-examination of well-meaning but +sharp-tongued Aunt Jane.</p> + +<p>"Did you come straight home after the matinée?" inquired the latter.</p> + +<p>"Of course," answered Martha, sleepily. "There was such a crowded house. +And so many encores, I am dead tired."</p> + +<p>"You seem much later than usual?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Aunt Jane, don't ask so many questions. It's Martha this and +Martha that and 'Martha, where have you been?' all day long, until I am +beginning to get sick and tired of it."</p> + +<p>"It is all for your own good, and you know whose instructions I am +carrying out."</p> + +<p>"I know," pouted Martha, regretfully. "But don't you think he is a +little unreasonable? How could a bit of supper after the show hurt any +one? Other girls go."</p> + +<p>"Has your 'unknown admirer' been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> asking you to dine with him?" inquired +Mrs. Anderson, sharply.</p> + +<p>"My 'unknown admirer'?" repeated Martha, blankly. "Whom do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"The one who sent you these flowers," cried Aunt Jane, bringing the box +to Martha, who gazed in surprise at the splendid roses.</p> + +<p>"More flowers, and from a man I have never spoken to," exclaimed Martha, +reading the note.</p> + +<p>At this moment Lizzie opened the door from the hall and entered.</p> + +<p>"If you please, ma'am, that messenger boy is here again," she said. "He +wants to see Miss Farnum herself."</p> + +<p>"It's the boy who brought the flowers," explained Aunt Jane. "He has a +note he won't give to any one but you."</p> + +<p>"How exciting," cried Martha. "Do have him in."</p> + +<p>Messenger No. 109 winked his eye maliciously at Mrs. Anderson, and +tipped his cap respectfully to Martha, whom,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> from the directions +regarding his note, he evidently deemed a person of some importance. +Martha opened the envelope, and a yellow-backed bill fluttered to the +floor. Mrs. Anderson gasped, Lizzie stared, and the messenger boy +politely picked it up and returned it to Martha. It was a hundred-dollar +bill.</p> + +<p>"Is dere any answer, lady?" inquired 109 stolidly.</p> + +<p>Martha hesitated. She looked at the envelope again, then looked at the +piece of paper which had enclosed the hundred-dollar bill.</p> + +<p>"No," she said simply. "Yes—wait a second."</p> + +<p>The boy paused at the door, and Martha whispered a few words into his +ear. "Do you understand?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Betcher life," cried 109. "I'm on, lady, I'm on." And with a merry +whistle and another wink at the excited Aunt Jane, 109 made a dignified +and breezy exit, followed by the surprised Lizzie.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 522px;"> +<img src="images/illus112.jpg" width="522" height="650" alt=""More flowers and from a man I have never spoken to."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"More flowers and from a man I have never spoken to."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Anderson, grimly, sitting with her arms folded, "I'm +waiting."</p> + +<p>"Waiting for what, Aunt Jane?" inquired Martha.</p> + +<p>"For an explanation of this extraordinary scene. Who sent you that +money, and what do you intend to do with it?"</p> + +<p>Martha half laughed at her earnestness.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you just now, Aunt Jane," she said.</p> + +<p>"But I must know. When Mr. Clayton brought you to me, he asked me to +look out for you, and I mean to do so."</p> + +<p>"And so you have. You've been everything that you could be, dear and +thoughtful, but it's got so I'm the laughing-stock of the entire +company. I daren't take a step out of this house but you must be fully +informed about everything I do and everywhere I go."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clayton wishes to know."</p> + +<p>"If Mr. Clayton wishes to know, why doesn't he come and ask me? He +hasn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> been here more than twice in the past four months. Am I to blame +if I wish some innocent amusement? He never thinks of me, and when some +one else does seem to take an interest in my affairs, and show me a +little attention, am I to blame if I like it?"</p> + +<p>"You are to blame for accepting hundred-dollar bills."</p> + +<p>"But I haven't accepted them yet. I haven't been able to return them +before this—"</p> + +<p>"What? There were others?"</p> + +<p>"For the past six weeks a messenger boy has brought me a note every +Saturday. Each letter contained a hundred-dollar bill."</p> + +<p>"Great heavens!" Aunt Jane collapsed on the sofa. "And wasn't there any +name signed to the letters?"</p> + +<p>"Only the words 'From your unknown admirer.' I could not return the +money, for I didn't know his name—until now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> This letter I have just +received gives his name."</p> + +<p>"Who is it, dearie?" inquired Aunt Jane, confidentially, coming to +Martha's side. "Perhaps I know him."</p> + +<p>"His name is—but there, it doesn't matter." Martha turned away and put +both letter and hundred-dollar bill into her handbag.</p> + +<p>"It does matter," cried Aunt Jane, indignation and curiosity battling +for supremacy. "This is a very serious thing. If a strange man sends a +young girl hundreds of dollars, why, he must be crazy about you. Did he +send you anything else?"</p> + +<p>"A few trifles—some jewelry."</p> + +<p>"Has he asked you to marry him?"</p> + +<p>"What nonsense," laughed Martha. "He has only asked me to dinner."</p> + +<p>"You must not go, Martha," said Aunt Jane, decisively. "You know Mr. +Clayton wouldn't like you to take dinner with other gentlemen."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then why doesn't Mr. Clayton take me to dinner himself?" she cried +passionately.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clayton has other things to do."</p> + +<p>"Then he must not blame me if I dine with some one else."</p> + +<p>"I refuse to let you go, Martha."</p> + +<p>"And how will you keep me, please?" demanded Martha, petulantly, not +because she really desired to break her covenant with her self-appointed +backer, but merely to see what steps he might take if she gave evidence +of breaking her parole. "Will you lock all the doors and keep me a +prisoner?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," replied Aunt Jane. "Is this unknown admirer coming here to +see you, or did you send him word to meet you on the street corner?"</p> + +<p>"I sent him word to come here," replied Martha, indignantly. "I have no +need to meet him elsewhere. I have nothing to be ashamed of."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;"> +<img src="images/illus118.jpg" width="509" height="650" alt=""I refuse to let you go Martha."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"I refuse to let you go Martha."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very well, then," retorted Aunt Jane, going toward the library, as the +back parlor was ambitiously named. "I'll telephone Mr. Clayton and say I +wash my hands of you. If he wants to keep an eye on you, he will have to +do it himself after to-night. I'll send for him at once."</p> + +<p>"You'll send for him?" cried Martha, gladly.</p> + +<p>"I'll telephone him to come as fast as a taxi can bring him," declared +Mrs. Anderson. "I guess that will bring you to your senses."</p> + +<p>"I hope it does," murmured Martha, softly, burying her face in the +fragrant flowers. And to herself she added: "I wonder if he'll come?"</p> + +<p>"Come right in, Mr. Zinsheimer," cried the shrill voice of Pinkie +Lexington in the outer hall. "I saw you clear across the street and +hurried down the back way," she continued, leading him into the parlor. +"Flossie has just gone out, but maybe, if you wait, she'll come back +soon."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't mind if I do," declared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> Marcus Zinsheimer, shedding his +great fur coat and peering curiously at Martha, who busied herself with +her flowers by the piano. "Who's that?" he added softly.</p> + +<p>"That's Martha Farnum," whispered Pinkie. "She's at the Casino and that +haughty—but I'm going to be friends with her."</p> + +<p>"As though two chorus girls could be friends," interrupted the knowing +"Marky."</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>not</i> a chorus girl," corrected Pinkie. "And anyhow, she has a very +wealthy admirer who might star her, and if he does I'd like to be in her +company. See?"</p> + +<p>"Oho! That's the racket, eh?" laughed "Marky." "You may be right. A ton +of money, an ounce of sense, a pretty girl and a love-sick angel have +made many a star in the theatrical firmament."</p> + +<p>"And while it lasts, I might just as well be in the push," added Pinkie, +wisely. "Gawd knows I need the money."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Marky" surveyed Pinkie carefully.</p> + +<p>"Why is it you are always so hard up, Pinkie?" he inquired. "You ought +to be able to get a good engagement, but I say, there ain't much style +about the way you dress. What I like is style—real flashy style—lots +of color and ginger."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I'm so poor," sobbed Pinkie, plaintively. "But I can't help +it, Mr. Zinsheimer. You know the company stranded and I haven't had +anything to do since. It's very kind of you to be so considerate, Mr. +Zinsheimer. Would you mind if I call you 'Feathers'? That's what I +always call you to Flossie."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you call me 'Feathers,' I won't call you <i>down</i>," replied +"Marky," laughing laboriously at his own joke. "But now I'll tell you +what we'll do. Flossie's out and won't know anything about it, so let's +you and me jump into a taxicab and go down to some of the shops. We can +just make it before six o'clock, and I'll buy you a lot of fancy things. +Eh, what?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Eh, what?" almost shouted Pinkie. "Do you mean it?"</p> + +<p>"Do I mean it?" insisted "Marky." "Sure. I've got a taxi waiting +outside. Will you come?"</p> + +<p>Pinkie rose majestically to the occasion. Drying her eyes, and looking +anxiously at the parlor clock for fear that it might already be time for +Flossie to return before she could get into the taxicab, she grabbed her +coat, without even waiting to get a hat, seized "Marky" by the arm and +dragged him toward the hallway.</p> + +<p>"Will I?" she repeated. "Watch me, kid."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 496px;"> +<img src="images/illus124.jpg" width="496" height="650" alt=""I'm sorry I'm so poor" sobbed Pinkie." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"I'm sorry I'm so poor" sobbed Pinkie.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>SANFORD GORDON REAPPEARS</h3> + + +<p>A smart limousine car darted across Broadway, turned the corner, and +drew up before the door of Mrs. Anderson's boarding-house. A tall, dark, +good-looking chap, whose erect figure was completely enveloped in a +fur-lined overcoat, emerged, and walked briskly up the steps. Lizzie +answered the bell, and started back in surprise when the stranger calmly +stepped inside, closed the door, slipped her a dollar bill, and said +quietly:</p> + +<p>"Take this card to Miss Farnum. She is expecting me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," stammered Lizzie. "Will you wait in the parlor, sir?"</p> + +<p>"So this is where she lives?" mused the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> visitor, shaking his head as he +looked around the neat but poorly furnished room, with its supply of +theatrical photographs and the large picture of Arnold Lawrence, leading +man, on the piano. "I'll soon get her out of this miserable hole."</p> + +<p>Martha Farnum entered, her step so light that he did not hear her until +she touched his arm and extended her hand in greeting. "Mr. Gordon!"</p> + +<p>"I received your message," cried Sanford, turning quickly and clasping +her hand with such fervor that Martha unconsciously sought to withdraw +it. "I'm glad you remember me."</p> + +<p>"I remembered the name," explained Martha. "You are a man so much talked +about that it is not strange a little country girl should remember the +time she first met so celebrated a personage. But when you sent me the +note to-night, I realized for the first time that it was you who had +been sending me so many presents."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Only a few trifles—"</p> + +<p>"And so I wanted to see you."</p> + +<p>"That was kind of you," replied Gordon, as they sat on the sofa. "I have +been wanting to see you all these weeks, but somehow I didn't know how +to begin. Finally, to-night, I decided to write you a little message and +see if you remembered me."</p> + +<p>Martha turned toward him frankly.</p> + +<p>"I want to know the meaning of your remarkable presents," she said, with +the utmost ingenuousness.</p> + +<p>Gordon laughed a trifle, as though to dismiss the matter.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," he declared. "They weren't so very remarkable. A few +presents and a little pin-money which I thought might come in handy for +a girl getting a small income."</p> + +<p>"Such presents would be appreciated by some girls," replied Martha, +offering him a small packet which she had held in her hand, "but I have +no right to take them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then you haven't spent anything?" exclaimed Gordon, in surprise, +looking at the roll of yellow-backed bills and the half-dozen trinkets +which she returned to him.</p> + +<p>"Not a dollar. I would have returned them sooner, but I didn't know who +the mysterious donor was."</p> + +<p>"Please keep the money, Miss Farnum, and the other things. They mean +nothing to me, and think of the comfort and pleasure they can bring +you."</p> + +<p>"I have no right to accept anything from you."</p> + +<p>"Then take the money for some one else. There must be some pet charity, +some deserving chorus girl who has a sick mother, some fresh-air fund +you want to contribute to. Please don't ask me to take back things so +freely given."</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot take it," replied Martha, firmly.</p> + +<p>Gordon twirled his moustache nervously and peered curiously at her. Here +was a case, indeed, one which the fastidious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> Sanford had never +previously encountered. A chorus girl to refuse money and presents? +Unprecedented! How the chaps at the club would chaff him if he ever told +the story. He—the best-known boulevardier of Broadway, a welcome guest +at every Bohemian gathering, who called actors and managers by their +first names and was the most flattered and most sought after member of +that queer white-light society of night revellers which regarded the +setting of the sun as the dawning of a new day—he, Sanford Gordon, +virtually flouted by an obscure chorus girl whom he had deigned to honor +with his attentions? Why, the thing was unbelievable.</p> + +<p>"Are you in earnest?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied Martha, rising. "I cannot be under obligations to +you or any one else, especially in money matters."</p> + +<p>"Listen, Miss Farnum," cried Gordon, coming to her. "My conduct may seem +strange to you. Call it a whim, if you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> like. But since I saw you that +first night at the Casino, I have wanted to be friends with you. Can't +we be friends?"</p> + +<p>"Friends? Why, of course," replied Martha, sincerely.</p> + +<p>"You want to succeed in your profession. Let me help you."</p> + +<p>"What could you do?"</p> + +<p>"I know the manager pretty well, for one thing. Victor Weldon is going +to make a few new productions this season, and if I asked him to give +you a part, he would probably do it."</p> + +<p>"But I want to succeed on my merits," insisted Martha. "If I am to win +success, I must deserve it. I should be ashamed and humiliated if I +secured an engagement through influence, and then failed."</p> + +<p>"But why refuse influence?" protested Gordon. "It gives you the +opportunity, and that is something every one must have. Many a clever +actor and actress is walking Broadway to-day without an engagement, +simply because of lack of opportunity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> Now, if Weldon offers you a part +in his new production at the Globe Theater, you won't refuse it, will +you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I wouldn't do that," pondered Martha. "But do you think I could +play a small part?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you can, and anyhow, never give up without a trial. Weldon +might even offer you the leading rôle if the part suited you."</p> + +<p>"The leading rôle?" gasped Martha. "Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," continued Gordon. "I happen to know that in his new +production the leading rôle is that of a simple little country +girl—just the sort of ingénue you were when I first met you at French +Lick. The songs are simple. In fact, it's a little play with songs—not +a big musical production. Your very simplicity and naturalness would +make you splendidly suited to the rôle."</p> + +<p>"It sounds like a dream," cried Martha, wonderingly. "Are you sure Mr. +Weldon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> would ever give me a trial in the part?"</p> + +<p>Gordon came close to her. "If I ask it," he said impressively and with a +queer inflection of his voice which Martha did not understand. "If I ask +it, the thing is done. Come out to dinner with me and we'll talk it +over."</p> + +<p>Martha's heart sank. "I'd like to, really," she said wearily, "but I've +never been out to dinner before, and Aunt Jane would be furious if I +went."</p> + +<p>"You are not responsible to—your Aunt Jane, as you call her—are you?"</p> + +<p>"No, but—"</p> + +<p>"There isn't any one else, is there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—no—that is—"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were here alone?"</p> + +<p>"I am alone," replied Martha, with a sudden outburst of rebellion +against the conditions with which she had surrounded herself. "I am +responsible to no one and can do as I please. Still—" she hesitated +tearfully, "I don't think I'd better go."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've got my car outside. Come up to Rector's and have a bite. I'll +drive you to the theater afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd love to," cried Martha. "I wonder if I dared."</p> + +<p>"Of course. Come along."</p> + +<p>"But I couldn't go in these clothes," exclaimed Martha. "I'd have to +change—I've got a little evening frock I used to wear to dances back in +Indiana. Oh, I'm sure there can be no harm, and even if Aunt Jane is +angry, it will blow over by to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Of course. How soon will you be ready?"</p> + +<p>"In twenty minutes."</p> + +<p>"I'll drive over to the club and return for you. I'd wait here only +these boarding-house parlors are so public. And that reminds me—you'd +better move to some other place where you can have some comfort and +decent surroundings."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure this is very nice, and all I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> can afford," replied Martha, +with some show of spirit.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can afford better quarters when Weldon engages you to-morrow," +replied Gordon. "Your salary will be bigger, of course. Hurry up and +change your togs. I'll wait out front in the car when I return."</p> + +<p>Three minutes later, Martha was still standing alone in the otherwise +empty parlor. Indecision was written on her face. Gordon had gone, but +still she made no move toward her room and the changing of her gown. The +outer door had slammed, and Flossie Forsythe entered with the usual +harmonious accompaniment of the rattling chatelaines.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Martha," cried Flossie. "Wasn't that Sanford Gordon just got in +his limousine in front of the house? Came from here, too. I saw him just +as I turned the corner."</p> + +<p>"Really?" replied Martha, coldly, moving toward the door. "I suppose +you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> know him better than I do," she added, as she left the room.</p> + +<p>"Humph," murmured Flossie. "Stuck-up show-girl."</p> + +<p>"Where's Pinkie?" inquired Mrs. Anderson, entering to light the gas. +"Hasn't she returned yet?"</p> + +<p>"Has Pinkie gone out?" inquired Flossie, munching a caramel.</p> + +<p>"Yes. She drove off in a taxicab with some man half an hour ago. I +thought he was a friend of yours."</p> + +<p>"Pinkie drove off in a taxicab with a man?" Flossie fairly shrieked in +amazement. "Will wonders never cease?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't see who it was," explained Aunt Jane, as the door-bell +announced another visitor. "But I know it was a man."</p> + +<p>"D'je ever hear the like of that?" Flossie shook her head wonderingly. +"Seems to me I'm getting the double cross."</p> + +<p>"Well, if it isn't Mr. Lawrence," cried Mrs. Anderson, in the hallway, +ushering in a distinguished-looking individual with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> crisp, curly, dark +hair, a smoothly shaven face, an elegant bearing and a far-away look in +his flashing, dark eyes. "I'm so glad to welcome you home again—for you +know I like to feel that all my guests are, after all, members of a +happy little family."</p> + +<p>"And glad I am to be back in your hospitable house," responded Lawrence. +"What's this I see? My photograph?" he added, beaming with delight and +gazing admiringly at the large photo on the piano.</p> + +<p>"If we cannot have you, Mr. Lawrence," declared Mrs. Anderson, +feelingly, "it pleases us to always have your photograph before us."</p> + +<p>"The good lady is devoted as ever to me," thought Lawrence to himself. +Aloud: "Ah, this is indeed a home for us actors, my dear Mrs. +Anderson—a real home."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 497px;"> +<img src="images/illus138.jpg" width="497" height="650" alt=""And glad I am to be back in your hospitable house."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"And glad I am to be back in your hospitable house."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This is another member of our family," explained Aunt Jane. "Miss +Flossie Forsythe, Mr. Lawrence."</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" Lawrence curtly acknowledged the introduction.</p> + +<p>"I seen you in Harlem once," replied Flossie, admiringly. "I recognized +you at once by your photograph."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? I believe my features are somewhat familiar to the general +public."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm in the profession, too," added Flossie, proudly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed? The chorus?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the idea—"</p> + +<p>"For my part, I am not one of those who regard the chorus as a +legitimate branch of the acting profession. It is something beyond the +strict limits of our art, like the scene painter, the property master, +the musician. The actor is a thing apart."</p> + +<p>Flossie collapsed on the sofa as he disappeared into the hall with Mrs. +Anderson. "Well, wouldn't that give you tonsillitis!" she ejaculated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>The door from the hall was suddenly thrown open as though Hercules had +brushed it aside as he would a fly, and Pinkie Lexington burst into the +room looking like a rainbow. In place of the old, dilapidated traveling +suit, she wore a smart new gown of purple velvet. A hat with a gorgeous +purple plume almost concealed her face, and round her shoulders hung an +elaborate set of furs. Close behind this gorgeous apparition was "Marky" +Zinsheimer, a trifle nervous and ill at ease at suddenly finding so many +persons around.</p> + +<p>"Hello, everybody," cried Pinkie. "How do you like my rig?"</p> + +<p>"Pinkie!" shouted Flossie, aghast. "Is it really you?"</p> + +<p>"For the love of Heaven!" declared Mrs. Anderson, following her in and +clasping her hands together in mute admiration.</p> + +<p>"Stunning, by Jove!" Even Arnold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> Lawrence was moved to positive +admiration.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see the manager who refuses me an engagement when I drag +these togs into his office," cried Pinkie, proudly pirouetting to show +the outfit from all sides.</p> + +<p>"You look like ready money, my dear," gasped Flossie. "But where on +earth did you get the junk?"</p> + +<p>"Never you mind," replied Pinkie, obviously embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Anderson said you went out riding in a taxi with a man," said +Flossie, wonderingly. Then, as her eyes for the first time fell on +Zinsheimer, who was trying to edge toward the door and escape unnoticed, +she sprang to her feet, pointed her finger at the shrinking "Marky," and +screamed: "With him?"</p> + +<p>"None of your business," retorted Pinkie.</p> + +<p>"Marky, have you been out with Pinkie?" cried Flossie. "Answer me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's the man. Certainly," declared Mrs. Anderson.</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" stammered "Marky." "I just took Pinkie down to a few +of the stores, and there you are."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you cat!" cried Flossie, stamping her foot and clenching her fists. +"You hypocrite!"</p> + +<p>"Now see here, I thought you girls was friends," began Zinsheimer. "Kiss +and make up, girls."</p> + +<p>"I won't call any one names," responded Pinkie, with the air of a +martyr. "She has insulted me, but I will forgive her if she apologizes. +Marky, tell her to apologize."</p> + +<p>"Never!" cried Flossie, swinging in a circle so abruptly that the +rattling chatelaines shot out at an angle of forty-five degrees. "I will +never speak to her again, or to you either, Marky Zinsheimer. I'm +through with both of you. In all my stage career this is the crowning +disappointment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> Oh, the degradation! To be cut out by a fat blonde!"</p> + +<p>"Marky" Zinsheimer edged toward the door.</p> + +<p>"This," he declared, "is where Marky Zinsheimer exits smilingly."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>LOVE AND AMBITION</h3> + + +<p>"And I can't do a thing with her," concluded Aunt Jane, in her recital +of Martha's shortcomings, while Clayton listened with an amused air at +the story of his ward's latest adventure. "She's headstrong and +unreliable, and though I love her as I would my own daughter, I think it +is time for you to talk to her seriously. When a chorus girl commences +to receive hundred-dollar bills and diamonds, she can't stay in my house +until I know who sends them, and why. That's all. That's why I +telephoned you to come right over."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you 'phoned me, Aunt Jane," said Clayton. "I missed a pretty +important business engagement at dinner to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> here, but I gathered from +your message that something important had developed. I fancy Martha will +tell us all about it. After all, it's no crime to admire Martha. I +admire her myself. The change in her has been wonderful. I had no idea +when I first brought her here that a few months in New York would result +in such swift development."</p> + +<p>"It's been swift all right, Mr. Clayton. I'll tell her you're here."</p> + +<p>Clayton awaited Martha's coming with mingled emotions of pleasure and +regret, pleasure at seeing her, for he had grown genuinely to like and +admire her; regret, for he feared she was beginning to find her +self-imposed bonds a trifle wearisome. In that case, of course, their +compact would be at an end, for, though their arrangement had not +contemplated any incident which would lead to a breaking of their +contract, it was obvious that Martha could not expect him to ignore +calmly a violation of it. His own self-respect made this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> impossible. He +would have to protest, and by protesting, perhaps lose completely any +influence he might have over her.</p> + +<p>The months that had passed since he first agreed to finance Martha's +venture into the realm of theatricals had been months of uneasiness. +Time and again he had resolved to visit her, talk with her, find out +what progress she was making; yet each time he feared he might inject +too personal an interest into these inquiries. That had been their +agreement: "Down with love and up with ambition." He had warned her of +the wayward influences of love at a time when the possibility of caring +for her himself had never entered his head. "I suppose," he had said to +himself a dozen times, "she'll fall in love with some actor and marry +him without even bothering to let me know." This idea first awakened the +possibility that he might keenly regret such an indiscretion on her +part. Then came the ardent desire to see her himself, advise her, and +protect her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> from the pitfalls of her profession. But he had dismissed +this as a subterfuge invented by himself as an excuse for seeing her.</p> + +<p>"No," he had concluded. "I will stick by my bargain. I am making an +experiment in character development, and I will not let my personal +sentiment affect my judgment as a business man. I agreed to aid her +until she can become self-supporting, or admits that she is a failure. +So long as she keeps her part of the contract, I will keep mine."</p> + +<p>Another and more powerful reason for absenting himself from all +neighborhoods where he might meet her, and especially from Mrs. +Anderson's boarding-house, was the fear that she might consider him in +the light of a benefactor to whom she was under obligations. This galled +him—to think that she might be outwardly cordial while secretly bored. +For Clayton was modest enough to believe that his unassuming airs and +reticent ways would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> not prove attractive to a high-spirited girl so +many years his junior.</p> + +<p>"What a surprise," cried Martha, entering the parlor suddenly. She was +dressed for the street. In fact, had Clayton been a few minutes later, +he would have missed her altogether, for Aunt Jane had announced his +visit just in the nick of time.</p> + +<p>"Hello," said Clayton, greeting her cordially. "What's the trouble +between you and Aunt Jane?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" repeated Martha. "There isn't any."</p> + +<p>"Then what did she mean by telephoning that you were getting a bit too +wild for her?"</p> + +<p>"She dared to say that?" exclaimed Martha, indignantly. "Oh, and so she +telephoned you to come and—and tame me—I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that," replied Clayton, smiling. "She did 'phone me, but +that was only in accordance with my instructions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> I have always felt +that, as I am responsible for your being in New York, it was my duty to +look after you. But that is only part of our agreement, you know. I was +to advance you all the money necessary, keeping a strict account of +every penny, and you in return were to take my advice, and when you +became famous—repay the loan."</p> + +<p>"When I become famous?" mused Martha, sinking onto the sofa. "I wonder +if I ever will?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," cried Clayton, encouragingly. "And I want to help you all I +can."</p> + +<p>Martha turned her large eyes toward him appealingly.</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you come to see me oftener?" she asked softly.</p> + +<p>"That wasn't in the agreement," smiled Clayton. "And I hardly thought +you'd have any time for a mere man."</p> + +<p>"After all you've done for me, it would be strange if I didn't <i>take</i> +time for you,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> replied Martha. Clayton shifted uneasily as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"That sounds like 'Thank you, sir,'" he said.</p> + +<p>"And I have to stop work sometimes, <i>to eat</i>," added Martha, +maliciously, and glancing at him as though trying to convey a subtle +hint. "And I hate to eat <i>alone</i>. I hate to eat dinner at Aunt Jane's +<i>all</i> the time. I've wanted to go out to dinner so many times since I've +been in New York, but I <i>never</i> had any one invite me, until to-day."</p> + +<p>"Hm! That's the cause of the row with Aunt Jane?"</p> + +<p>"She didn't like the idea."</p> + +<p>"Some masculine admirer, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is," replied Martha, defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?"</p> + +<p>As she turned away without response, Clayton added: "Martha, who is he?"</p> + +<p>"One you yourself introduced to me," she replied shortly.</p> + +<p>"I?" He pondered a moment, surprised.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> "Not Sanford Gordon?" he said +finally, and only by an effort suppressing a faint "Damn."</p> + +<p>"Yes," declared Martha. "I am going out with him to dinner now."</p> + +<p>"Not with my consent," declared Clayton, emphatically.</p> + +<p>"And why not, please?"</p> + +<p>"For many reasons," he said, sitting beside her. "Frankly, how long has +this been going on?"</p> + +<p>"About three months, if you must know," replied Martha, bristling a +little at his inquisition.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen him often?"</p> + +<p>"To-day was the first time."</p> + +<p>"He has written to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Sent you presents, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"A few pieces of jewelry. Every week he has sent me an envelope. Inside, +with a blank piece of paper, was a hundred-dollar bill. I never knew +until to-day who sent them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What have you done with these things?"</p> + +<p>"I handed them all back to him, in this room, half an hour ago. I told +him I could accept nothing from him, but finally I agreed to go to +dinner with him to-night. He's probably waiting out front now, in his +car."</p> + +<p>Clayton rose to his feet nervously and paced the floor.</p> + +<p>"What else did he say?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"He was very nice and respectful. He offered to speak to Mr. Weldon, the +manager, and get me a new part—perhaps the leading part—in his new +production."</p> + +<p>"So that's his little game, is it?" said Clayton, still more annoyed. +"Money and jewels returned, his next bribe is an engagement. How do you +know you could play the part?"</p> + +<p>"I might succeed," pouted Martha. "And even a star who tries and fails, +can never forget that she did star—once."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And so your success means more to you than anything else that life can +offer?"</p> + +<p>Martha's eyes were still fired by the light of her ambition. "Yes," she +said.</p> + +<p>"If you please, Miss," interrupted Lizzie, entering at that moment, "Mr. +Gordon is outside in his car, and wants to know if you will be ready +soon."</p> + +<p>"Tell him—" began Martha. Then she hesitated, looking doubtfully at +Clayton, who came close to her as though awaiting her decision on a +momentous matter.</p> + +<p>"Martha," he asked, "are you still determined to keep this dinner +engagement with Gordon?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Martha seemed to take a keen delight in arousing his +displeasure. "There's no harm in it, and Mr. Gordon has been very kind +to me."</p> + +<p>"As he has been to the others—before you," said Clayton, bitterly, +almost savagely.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never mind. If I can't convince you without blackguarding him, I'll let +you go. I only ask you to trust me, and believe that I am doing my +best—for you." Clayton paused doubtfully. "If you hate to eat dinner +alone," he added suddenly, as an afterthought, "so do I. Martha, come +with me."</p> + +<p>"But I promised Mr. Gordon. He's waiting."</p> + +<p>"But remember, you have a contract with me."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Martha, half angrily. "With a friend. Not a jailer. +Good-night."</p> + +<p>Martha started toward the door, but Clayton raised his hand and she +hesitated, as he blocked the way.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she demanded defiantly.</p> + +<p>"You can choose between him and me," declared Clayton, hotly. "But +you've got to choose. If you go with him, breaking your contract, I wash +my hands of the whole business. Now, choose."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>Martha met his gaze squarely, half angrily, half contemptuously. Then +she turned to the waiting maid.</p> + +<p>"Lizzie," she said, clearly and distinctly, "ask Mr. Gordon—" Yet, even +as she spoke her voice faltered, she looked at Clayton, and added, +dropping her eyes, in an almost inaudible undertone: "—<i>to excuse me</i>."</p> + +<p>Clayton took her arm eagerly, and she looked up again into his face.</p> + +<p>"You brute," she said, but she laughed when she said it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE UNDERGROUND WIRES</h3> + + +<p>The sign on the door of Suite 1239 in the Knickerbocker Theater Building +bore the legend, in plain black letters:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Victor Weldon</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Theatrical Manager<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Suite 1239 was really two small rooms, an outer and an inner office. The +outer office, overlooking busy Broadway, which seethed and simmered its +hurrying crowds far below, was divided into two parts by a railing. On +one side two long benches served as havens of rest for weary stage-folk +in search of engagements. Ever and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> anon one, two, or even three +players, perhaps chorus girls, perhaps actors, perhaps character women, +would enter timidly, look around the office as though expecting the +imperial Jove to hurl thunderbolts at them for their presumption in thus +invading the sacred precincts, and then tremblingly ask the red-haired +stenographer on the other side of the rail:</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Weldon engaging any one?"</p> + +<p>And the red-haired stenographer, invariably without looking up from her +machine, would reply:</p> + +<p>"Nothing doing to-day."</p> + +<p>Sometimes this routine would vary a trifle, in case Mr. Weldon, for +reasons of his own, wished to have his office appear like a busy mart. +Then the stenographer would say:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Weldon is very busy now, but if you want to wait, perhaps you can +see him."</p> + +<p>This left-handed invitation, containing only the slightest ray of hope +that perhaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> the great manager would engage some one for something, was +invariably pounced upon eagerly, for actors undergoing that sad daily +routine known as "making the rounds," knew to their sorrow that +invitations even to sit down and wait were few and far between. The +"Call to-morrow" slogan was the more usual excuse in getting rid of +applicants. In a profession as overcrowded as the theatrical business +there are thirty applicants for every possible position, but still the +unsuccessful ones keep on "making the rounds" on the chance that sooner +or later they will be engaged.</p> + +<p>Mr. Weldon's private reasons for wishing his outer office to be filled +at certain times possibly had something to do with the fact that on +these occasions certain smartly dressed, prosperous men called on +business and were instantly admitted to the inner office. Then the +stenographer, having had her cues, would drop some casual remark about +"The backer of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> new show," whereupon the professionals would become +more alert at the prospect of "Something doing." Of course, conversely, +the mysterious "backers" were impressed by the stage setting of an outer +office of players looking for engagements from the great Mr. Weldon.</p> + +<p>Contrary to the popular idea, based mainly on the comic weeklies, +theatrical backers or "angels" are comparatively rare. Therefore, Victor +Weldon's line of procedure since Mrs. Dainton had abruptly closed her +American tour because of the illness of her Pomeranian pup, had been +exceedingly uncertain. He had planned various productions on his own +account, and he had endeavored unsuccessfully to interest certain +financial gentlemen of the Wall Street district in the merits of two or +three plays he had read. One of them in particular, a simple little +comedy of peasant life in Germany, with two or three songs, had greatly +impressed him. It was of Viennese origin, skillfully translated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> and +adapted, but preserving the Viennese atmosphere and characters. Entitled +"The Village Girl," the central rôle was that of a peasant girl who fell +in love with a prince when the latter was hunting in disguise as a mere +woodsman. Afterwards, meeting him at the state ball face to face in his +gorgeous uniform, she, by renouncing her love for him because of his +rank and title, ultimately led the old Emperor to relent and give his +consent to their marriage.</p> + +<p>"Good plot," murmured Weldon, after reading it in his private office. +"The old stuff like this always goes with the public. There's a plot +that must succeed, because it has never been known to fail. I can +produce this play and make a barrel of money if I can only find a +backer. I wonder if I couldn't rope Gordon in on this?"</p> + +<p>Which explains why Sanford Gordon had already heard of the play at the +time he renewed his acquaintance with Martha, and further explains the +fact that three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> days later he was closeted with Weldon in the inner +private office of Suite 1239 in the Knickerbocker Theater Building.</p> + +<p>"It will cost about twenty thousand cold, before we ring up the +curtain," explained Weldon, skillfully calculating with the aid of a +pencil and a pad of paper. "It will take about seven thousand for the +production, including costumes and uniforms. Everything is Viennese this +season, so we must get the correct atmosphere. Advertising and printing +may take up two or three thousand more, and then we'll probably have to +guarantee at least twenty-five hundred to the theater we select. I'd +like to get a classy theater like the Globe, where they have ushers in +English military uniforms, and society people always go there because +some one tipped them off that it was <i>the</i> society theater of New York. +But it might take a little more money to get the Globe."</p> + +<p>"Get the Globe by all means," said Gordon. "A few thousand more or less +mean<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> nothing if the thing is a hit, and if it is a failure, I guess I +can stand the loss quite as well."</p> + +<p>Victor Weldon sprang to his feet excitedly. The "roping in" had been +easier than he anticipated, for Sanford Gordon, in spite of his +propensity for squandering wealth in certain directions, belonged to the +category of "wise people." No one ever wasted postage to send him +green-goods catalogues, and Weldon had been extremely doubtful of his +ability to get Gordon as a backer, although, of course, he had enjoyed +unlimited opportunities to win his confidence while acting as Mrs. +Dainton's manager.</p> + +<p>"It's the chance of a lifetime," Weldon thought to himself as he clasped +Gordon's hand to bind the bargain.</p> + +<p>"I'll have the necessary legal papers drawn up by my lawyer," explained +Gordon. "The money will be deposited with the Commercial Trust Company +to-morrow morning. You will handle this production<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> exactly as though it +is your own—with one exception, my dear Weldon."</p> + +<p>"What is that?" asked Weldon, apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"You will engage for the leading rôle a young lady I will designate—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, now I understand—" began Weldon, smiling.</p> + +<p>"—who will have no inkling whatever of the fact that I am the backer of +this show. In fact, no one must know that I am furnishing the money. +Furthermore, at any time I see fit—if, for instance, the young lady +cannot, in my judgment, play the part satisfactorily—I reserve the +right to stop the whole production <i>instantly</i>, merely paying the +necessary bills. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't close the show if it's a hit, would you?" demanded +Weldon.</p> + +<p>"I'm not likely to close the show at all," he laughed. "But I have +reasons of my own for reserving that right. Otherwise, however, you are +the manager, owner,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> producer and director. Do as you please, my dear +Weldon, but remember the terms of our compact."</p> + +<p>"I am not likely to forget them," cried Weldon, enthusiastically. "But," +he added nervously, "can the young lady you wish me to engage really act +the part?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know and I don't care," responded Gordon. "The fact remains +that she is going to play the part, and if she doesn't know how to act, +teach her. That's all."</p> + +<p>Weldon shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"I had hoped, after my experience, Mr. Gordon, that I was through with +those bloomers where they try to force an unknown on the public," he +sighed. "But I know you too well to try and argue that a well-known +actress of reputation would help the piece and perhaps make it a hit."</p> + +<p>Gordon picked up his silk hat and balanced it with one hand while he +took his cane and gloves from the desk.</p> + +<p>"It is immaterial to me, Weldon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> whether the piece is a hit or not," he +said carelessly. "Of course, I sincerely hope, for your sake, that it +proves a success. But I won't shed any tears if it isn't. Like the +respected founders of the New Theater, I am not producing this play to +make money. I am simply endeavoring to give a certain young lady a +chance to play a star part in a Broadway theater. If she has the merit +to succeed, so much the better, for her sake and for yours. But +personally I don't give a damn—so long as I pull the strings."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>IN THE GREEN-ROOM</h3> + + +<p>Time: Three months later.</p> + +<p>"Half hour! Half hour!"</p> + +<p>The resonant cry of the call-boy, making the rounds of the +dressing-rooms of the Globe Theater, penetrated to the great empty +green-room, immediately adjoining the star's dressing-room. Downstairs, +from the musicians' room, came the sounds of the scraping of violin bows +across the strings, the occasional toot of the French horn or the +preliminary notes from a flute. Through the green-baize doors leading to +the stage came the sounds of shifting scenery as the stage hands set the +first act of "The Village Maid." A curtain was half drawn across the +entrance to the adjoining<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> star's room, behind which the faithful Lizzie +of the boarding-house, now transformed into a real maid for an actress, +was busily engaged preparing the toilette articles and the costumes of +Miss Martha Farnum, actress.</p> + +<p>Messenger boy 735, his diminutive figure almost hidden beneath a +gigantic box of flowers, was escorted through the baize doors by old +Pete, the back-door watchman.</p> + +<p>"Put 'em down there, sonny," directed Pete, pointing toward a couch in +the green-room. "And then vamoose quick. I got to watch the door, 'cause +Miss Farnum ain't come in yet."</p> + +<p>Number 735 deposited the flowers as directed, carefully cut the strings, +opened the box, and was in the act of breaking off a fine American +Beauty when Lizzie fortunately caught sight of him from the +dressing-room.</p> + +<p>"Here, you thief. Don't you dare," she cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I only wanted one, lady," replied 735. "Gee, if I was an actress with +all them blooms, I'd be glad to slip one of them to a kid who's going to +sit up in the gallery and applaud your old show."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to see the play?" asked Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"Betcher life. A man give me a ticket and four bits to sit in the +gallery and clap everything."</p> + +<p>"What—everything?" queried Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"Well, everything our leader does. There's forty of us kids, all got +gallery tickets free and fifty cents on the side. And say, when Miss +Farnum comes on the stage, you bet she'll hear us yell. We got orders to +raise de roof den."</p> + +<p>"You awful boy," cried Lizzie, genuinely shocked. "Here, take the rose, +but don't tell any one about your free tickets. Miss Farnum won't care +to have any one know the audience is paid to clap her."</p> + +<p>"Aw, quit kidding me," responded 735, moving toward the stage. "Why, we +sees<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> 'most all the New York shows that way for nothing. We get paid to +clap, even if the show's rotten. Don't try to kid me, baby."</p> + +<p>"It's wonderful what you learn when you go on the stage," murmured the +horrified Lizzie, after she had chased 735 into the darker regions of +the stage. "I wonder what's keeping Miss Farnum?" she added +thoughtfully, as she returned to the dressing-room.</p> + +<p>Weldon, clad in immaculate evening clothes, and accompanied by an +unobtrusive young chap wearing a dinner coat, a gray vest, a gray tie +and a small derby, strolled back behind the scenes to make sure +everything was all right for the opening. This was really Weldon's most +ambitious attempt. For years he had served in a business capacity with +many stars, and occasionally he had produced things on his own account, +but never before had his bank-roll assumed proportions which would +justify him in leasing the exclusive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> Globe Theater. If the new +production made good it would be the making of him as a manager as well. +Consequently he was in delightful spirits.</p> + +<p>His companion was a trifle more subdued, for upon his somewhat boyish +face there was a cloud of anxiety. He was keen, alert, almost +deferential in his attitude toward the manager, but a certain +experienced air suggested that behind his youthful appearance there was +dynamic energy and a fund of vitality which might burst forth at any +moment. He was Phil Hummer, the press agent of the Globe Theater, a +former newspaper man who, as he often expressed it, "quit writing for +the papers because he found he could make more money as a press agent." +For weeks he had been assiduously informing the public, through such +newspaper mediums as he could persuade to print his effusions, of the +importance of Miss Martha Farnum's approaching stellar début—for in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +the new play, be it known, Martha was being "starred."</p> + +<p>A Broadway star! How often have you read of the wonderful luck of some +obscure chorus girl, called upon in an emergency to play the leading +rôle, and next day proclaimed a star! Pretty fiction it is. Once in a +while it happens in real life, but very seldom. It is the alluring tales +of the sudden elevation of choristers which attract and fascinate the +beginner. The oft-told story of how Edna May rose from the ranks and +became a Casino star over-night, has served as the guiding beacon in the +life story of many a chorus girl seeking for fame; alas! too often in +vain.</p> + +<p>"Ready to-night for the stellar début of Miss Martha Farnum," cried +Weldon, enthusiastically. "To-night is the night that wins or loses +all."</p> + +<p>In clear defiance of the printed rules of the Fire Department young Mr. +Hummer carefully lighted a cigarette and observed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> carelessly: "Can't +see how any one loses unless it's Miss Farnum."</p> + +<p>"Not lose?" repeated Weldon. "Why, man, haven't I rented the theater for +six weeks on a guarantee, to say nothing of engaging the company and +paying for the most expensive scenic production of the season? With a +new Paris gown for every act? If Miss Farnum doesn't make good, where am +I?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly where you were three months ago," said Hummer.</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the sort—" began Weldon, when Hummer, with a warning +gesture, held his finger to his lips and nodded toward the dressing-room +where Lizzie was preparing for the coming of her mistress.</p> + +<p>"Cut it, Weldon," he whispered meaningly. "I know it's not your money, +so what's the use?"</p> + +<p>"Not my money? Don't I pay you your salary?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; but I know, and every one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> else in the company guesses, that +you are only the figurehead."</p> + +<p>"The idea!" sputtered Weldon, pompously. "Don't the bills read: 'Victor +Weldon presents Miss Farnum'?—<i>presents</i>, mind you."</p> + +<p>Hummer stepped closer a bit, puffed at his cigarette, and motioned +toward the dressing-room.</p> + +<p>"She's the meal ticket," he added.</p> + +<p>"You mean Miss Farnum?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. She found the angel, not you. If he withdrew his support +to-night, you couldn't keep this thing going thirty minutes."</p> + +<p>Weldon dropped into a chair and asked weakly:</p> + +<p>"How did you find out?"</p> + +<p>"The day you engaged me to incite public interest in your star, I found +out who the angel was. I hadn't been hanging around the Casino for +nothing. Half a dozen of the newspaper boys know all about his +infatuation for her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>Victor Weldon smiled weakly. "Every one said you were good at guessing +things," he remarked. "But listen, Phil. Not a word of this to any one. +Even Miss Farnum doesn't know how things really stand."</p> + +<p>Hummer whistled.</p> + +<p>"She don't know Gordon is putting up the money?"</p> + +<p>Weldon shook his head.</p> + +<p>"And she thinks it is honest recognition of real merit?"</p> + +<p>Weldon said nothing.</p> + +<p>"My word, what a good story, and I can't print it," ejaculated Hummer, +turning toward the door that led behind the boxes to the front of the +house. Just as he was about to open it, Gordon pushed it ajar with one +quick stroke of his powerful arm, and strode into the green-room.</p> + +<p>"Where's Miss Farnum?" he asked brusquely. "Oh, I thought you were +Weldon," he added, turning abruptly from Hummer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Hummer, our press representative," explained Weldon, coming +forward eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, the press agent? Very good," responded Gordon, carelessly turning +his back on Hummer.</p> + +<p>"Let us say, rather, inciter of public interest," explained Hummer. +"Paid to get fiction into the papers, and to suppress facts."</p> + +<p>Gordon turned toward him curiously. "Indeed! And what do you suppress?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," drawled Hummer, "who is furnishing the money for Miss Farnum's +starring venture, for one thing, especially as she doesn't know +herself." And with a light laugh Hummer went "in front" by the passage +leading behind the boxes.</p> + +<p>"See here, Weldon," said Gordon, decisively, "it is now almost eight +o'clock. When do you ring up the curtain?"</p> + +<p>"At twenty minutes past," replied Weldon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then understand me thoroughly. You will not ring up that curtain until +I say so. Understand me—<i>until I say so</i>."</p> + +<p>Gordon's tone clearly indicated something unusual. "What do you mean?" +asked Weldon.</p> + +<p>"Unless things go my way first, that curtain will never go up on this +production," said Gordon, tensely. "Oh, don't worry," as he saw the +other's face wrinkle. "I'll see that you personally don't lose anything +by it. But if I am to pay the piper for this crazy starring scheme, I +want some return for my money. Have the orchestra ring in as usual and +play the overture. Have all the people ready in their costumes, and +then, just before Martha Farnum steps upon that stage, I want to see her +here. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't before," answered Weldon, meaningly, "but I am just beginning +to now."</p> + +<p>Alone, Gordon clenched his hands nervously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've given her everything she has wanted for the past three months," he +murmured, "even this latest plaything—a theater and a company of her +own—but I think we'll have a settlement to-night, my dear Martha; a +little clearer understanding before the curtain rises on my latest +folly."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>AN OVERTURE AND A PRELUDE</h3> + + +<p>"This," said Martha, "is as far as you can venture. There is my +dressing-room, sacred only to the star—that's Poor Little Me."</p> + +<p>And with a profound courtesy, she bowed low before Clayton. Then rising +with the air of a tragedy queen, she pointed toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Begone, varlet!" she cried, with mock intensity. "Your queen dismisses +you."</p> + +<p>Clayton laughed. "So little Martha Farnum has become a great New York +star at last," he said seriously. "I couldn't realize that you were +really going up so rapidly. This offer from Weldon was really enough to +take your breath away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> and when he decided during rehearsals to feature +you so prominently, I concluded that perhaps you had more talent than +either of us ever suspected. But when he actually starred you—say, did +you see your name in electric letters as we came by the front of the +theater?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," cried Martha. "It almost took my breath away."</p> + +<p>Clayton shook his head wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"I remember your telling me Gordon offered to get you this engagement," +he said. "Do you suppose—"</p> + +<p>Martha laughed at his half-uttered thought.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gordon has had nothing to do with it," she declared. "I am sure of +that, because he never came to one of the rehearsals. Once I saw some +one out front in the darkened theater who seemed like Mr. Gordon, but +when I asked him if he had attended the rehearsal he declared I was +mistaken."</p> + +<p>"But you've seen him?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, a number of times, and since you withdrew your restrictions, I +have had dinner with him frequently, but you know all about that."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't expect you to be cooped up all the time," Clayton admitted, +"especially when your salary leaped upward so amazingly. And I don't +blame you for taking a more comfortable apartment in the Webster. Aunt +Jane's boarding-house was all right for the chorus girl, but a trifle +too <i>passé</i> for the future star."</p> + +<p>Martha shook her head sadly. "I think I was happier in those days than +now," she mused. "The more one attempts, the greater the chance for +failure. To-night I realize what is the ambition of most players, yet, +somehow, I am filled with dread. It doesn't seem right that I, plain +Martha Farnum, should be rushed upward like a skyrocket. Though the +rocket shoots upward in a blaze of glory, the stick must fall."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, you mustn't anticipate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> bad luck," protested Clayton, +cheerily. "I'm going out front and witness your triumph."</p> + +<p>"If it only is a triumph!" sighed Martha.</p> + +<p>"It will be," insisted Clayton. "However, don't be nervous. Remember if +you ever need me, I will be within call. <i>Au revoir</i>—and good luck to +you," he added cordially, and in another moment he had gone, while +Martha stood staring blankly before her, and wondering what the night +would bring forth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Farnum," cried Lizzie, suddenly emerging from the +dressing-room, "you'd better hurry and dress for the first act. It is +almost time for the overture."</p> + +<p>"All right, Lizzie," answered Martha, going to the room and beginning to +disrobe. A moment later, Miss Pinkie Lexington, made up for the part of +a fashionable society woman, entered the green-room cautiously, and +crossed to the door behind the boxes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where can he be?" she murmured to herself. Then, hearing the call-boy +crying "Overture, overture," in the distance, she started quickly toward +the stage, only to pause abruptly when she found herself face to face +with Miss Flossie Forsythe, neatly attired in a maid's costume, and +wearing a white apron and cap.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wouldn't have come here, if I'd known you was here," declared +Flossie, angrily.</p> + +<p>Pinkie extended a conciliating hand and said grandly: "Let's be friends, +Flossie. A girl shouldn't have enemies in the company."</p> + +<p>"It is hard enough to be compelled to accept an engagement in the same +company with you," replied Flossie, sarcastically, "but thank goodness, +a girl can choose her own friends."</p> + +<p>"It's the first part you ever had with real lines, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"No," cried Flossie, indignantly. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> had lines when I was with the +'Follies' on the New York roof."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I mean in a real play," replied Pinkie, superciliously. +"Anyhow, you don't want to get too gay with me. Remember, I got you this +engagement. I asked Martha to give you a real part, because I knew you +needed the money, now you've lost your lawsuit, and Mr. Zinsheimer, +too."</p> + +<p>"Zinsheimer!" repeated a stentorian voice behind them, as the proud +possessor of that historic name appeared, gorgeous in the resplendency +of an expansive shirt bosom and a white carnation in his button-hole. +"Now, Pinkie, you know I told you to call me 'Feathers.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Zinsheimer," half sobbed Flossie, "you are just in time. Even +though you care nothing more for me, you are too much of a gentleman to +let me be insulted. This <i>creature</i> has—"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind, Feathers," interrupted Pinkie. "Flossie's still +sore on me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> I say, she'd better forget it. Girls ought to be friends +when they're in the same company."</p> + +<p>Zinsheimer raised his hands protestingly. "Aw, girls, cut it out, cut it +out. People these days have to be important to have enemies. Forget it. +There's a great audience out in front and all of them waiting to see the +little star. Ach Gott!" he added, as the green-baize doors were suddenly +thrown open from the stage, and an excitable whirlwind blew in. "Ach +Gott, what is this?"</p> + +<p>"This" turned out to be an imposing figure attired in the white huzzar +uniform of a German prince. His bronze wig with the pompadour effect, +his upturned moustache, his glittering decorations and smart uniform, +all indicated that he was a Great Personage. But, alas! from the knees +downward the illusion stopped. "This" didn't wear any boots. In fact, he +was in his stocking feet, and he trod the boards gingerly but none the +less dramatically.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> "This," in other words, was Arnold Lawrence, leading +man, and he was evidently somewhat <i>distrait</i>.</p> + +<p>"Miss Farnum," he cried. "Where is Miss Farnum?"</p> + +<p>"She's there in her dressing-room," explained Zinsheimer. "But she isn't +coming out until—well, until she's more so than she is now. What's the +matter?"</p> + +<p>"That stupid bootmaker has failed to send my boots," shouted Lawrence. +"How can I go on without my boots? I have the part of a royal prince of +the German Empire. Do you expect me to appear like this—without boots?"</p> + +<p>"Go ask the property man," directed Zinsheimer. "He's got some."</p> + +<p>"Bah! A German prince wear property boots? Impossible!"</p> + +<p>Martha, all ready for the first act, appeared in the door of her +dressing-room.</p> + +<p>"Miss Farnum," cried Lawrence, dramatically, "my boots have not arrived. +I refuse to go on unless correctly dressed."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<img src="images/illus188.jpg" width="650" height="458" alt=""My boots have not arrived, i refuse to go on unless +correctly dressed."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"My boots have not arrived, I refuse to go on unless +correctly dressed."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But what can I do?" asked Martha, helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Dismiss the audience. I will not appear without the proper costume."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear—please—"</p> + +<p>"I will not act."</p> + +<p>"But we can get some other boots—"</p> + +<p>"I tell you, I will not act."</p> + +<p>"For my sake—for the company's sake—"</p> + +<p>"I must think first of my art," almost shouted Lawrence. "The critics +are in front. If they saw me in boots not in keeping with the costume, +they would say I dressed the part wrongly. I would be ruined."</p> + +<p>Zinsheimer dragged the frantic leading man to one side. "Come here," he +cried. "She's got enough to worry her to-night without you. Now, do you +want the German prince to appear with a black eye?"</p> + +<p>"But heavens, man, what am I to do?" protested Lawrence. "Look at me. I +want my boots."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Aw, go act barefooted," replied Zinsheimer, disgustedly.</p> + +<p>"What? I barefoot?"</p> + +<p>"Well, why not? You haven't got anything on Ruth and Isadora. If they +can act barefooted, why not you?"</p> + +<p>"Preposterous!" exploded Lawrence, seeing he was being made game of. "I +tell you, I decline to act. It is the audience who suffers—not I."</p> + +<p>Fortunately Weldon entered at this psychological moment with the package +which had been delayed. The boots had been sent to the box-office +instead of the stage entrance. Lawrence, calmed at once as if by magic, +pounced upon it with a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"My boots—at last," he cried. "It is all right, Miss Farnum. They have +arrived. I will act to-night."</p> + +<p>In the general laughter that ensued, came the sharp cry of the assistant +stage manager calling "Places—first act." As Martha stepped toward the +stage, half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> trembling with mingled nervousness and glad anticipation at +the actual realization of her much cherished ambition, Weldon touched +her on the arm.</p> + +<p>"One moment, if you please, Miss Farnum," he said softly. "Believe me, I +regret to trouble you, but something very important has arisen. Mr. +Gordon wants to speak to you here."</p> + +<p>Martha turned toward him in surprise. "Mr. Gordon?" she repeated. "How +absurd! I can't see any one now."</p> + +<p>"He's very insistent, Miss Farnum."</p> + +<p>"Then tell him, after the play," replied Martha. "He must know the +curtain is just about to rise on the first act."</p> + +<p>"He knows that," responded Weldon, sincerely sorry at the awkward +predicament in which he saw things were becoming involved. "I know that, +but please, for my sake, see him, if only for a few moments."</p> + +<p>"That's a strange request," pondered Martha. "But if you really want it, +Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> Weldon, of course I will comply. You have done so much for me that +indeed I ought to."</p> + +<p>"I will send him here at once," said Weldon, quickly, and disappeared +through the boxes.</p> + +<p>"Gordon?" said Martha, wonderingly to herself. Then to her maid: +"Lizzie, go and watch for my entrance."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>BEFORE THE CURTAIN ROSE</h3> + + +<p>Gordon stopped short before Martha, involuntarily impressed at the +pleasing picture she made, clad in her simple but effective first-act +dress, as she half kneeled on the ottoman in the center of the +green-room, repeating to herself the lines from her part, which she held +in her hand and at which she occasionally glanced to refresh her memory.</p> + +<p>"You are indeed beautiful to-night," he half whispered, approaching her +closer. Martha turned toward him coldly.</p> + +<p>"Did you force yourself upon me this way just to utter such a +commonplace remark as that?" she asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Force myself?" repeated Gordon, half indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You know that I am nervous and excited over this performance +to-night. In a few moments I will have to face an unsympathetic +audience, ready to laugh if I score a failure, reluctant to concede +success. At such a time, how can you imagine I want to talk to any one? +All my strength and energy are needed for this conflict to-night, and it +was unkind of you to insist upon coming here at this moment."</p> + +<p>Gordon drew a chair near the ottoman and motioned for her to be seated. +Martha reluctantly sat beside him, her thoughts far away, her ears +listening intently for the curtain music to indicate the beginning of +the first act.</p> + +<p>"If you had refused to see me just now," said Gordon, quietly but +incisively, "the curtain would never have risen to-night. In fact, I am +not sure now that it will rise."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/illus196.jpg" width="420" height="600" alt="Martha Farnum (Elsie Janis)" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Martha Farnum (Elsie Janis)</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>Martha looked at him in simple amazement. "Nonsense," she replied. "The +curtain will rise in a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"It will when you say the word, provided it suits me also."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Martha's voice expressed curiosity only.</p> + +<p>"The time is short, so I will speak plainly," said Gordon, tensely. "I +have purposely waited until the last moment so you could see both sides +of the picture. On the one hand, here are you, Martha Farnum, about to +make your actual appearance as a star at a Broadway theater. In six +months or less you have been transformed from a simple country girl to a +position often denied those who struggle for many years. Who do you +think has accomplished all this for you? Who is making you a star +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Why—why, Mr. Weldon, of course," replied Martha, slightly bewildered. +"Who else?"</p> + +<p>Gordon laughed with just the suggestion of a sneer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am," he said coldly.</p> + +<p>"You? Impossible!" Martha rose in amazement.</p> + +<p>"For three months I have made it possible for you to have everything a +woman can want," continued Gordon, calmly, coming to her. "To-night the +climax is reached when you make your appearance as a star—if you +appear. While you have thought your natural talents were receiving just +recognition, I have been paying the bills."</p> + +<p>"And if what you say is true—all true—what then?" Martha gazed at him +blankly, as though dazed.</p> + +<p>"This. What I have done, I have done because of my admiration for you. +Up to this moment I have asked nothing in return, but now I do."</p> + +<p>"Return? You mean—?"</p> + +<p>"You're not such a fool as you'd have me think. What of the handsome +apartment you are living in, furnished by Mr. Weldon and supposed to be +paid for out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> of the salary you are to receive? Do you think Mr. Weldon +really paid the rent? No, my dear. I did."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no—I don't believe it," cried Martha, shrinking from him. +"It's incredible."</p> + +<p>"I don't care a rap for the money I have spent," cried Gordon, following +her. "I'd give it ten times over if you only loved me."</p> + +<p>"Loved you?" repeated Martha, scornfully. "How can you—"</p> + +<p>"Don't say no too hastily, Martha. I think I care more for you than I +ever did for any one else. I'll make you happy. There's nothing that my +money won't do or can't do. We can go around the world together—to +Paris, Vienna, India, Japan, anywhere you like." He came nearer. +"Martha, in all the time I have known and loved you, I have never had +one kiss. Shall I have the first to-night?"</p> + +<p>The girl turned and faced him squarely with flashing eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Neither to-night nor any other night," she cried in ringing tones.</p> + +<p>"You mean it?" Gordon's face was pale and drawn.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Is that your final answer?" he asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"It is," she replied defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Then listen to me," declared Gordon, his face flushed with sudden +anger. "Either you pledge your word to accept me on my own terms here +and now, or you will never make your entrance on that stage. Ah," he +added, as Martha reeled at the sudden realization of how completely he +controlled the situation, "that hits your vanity, does it? A nice little +story for the newspapers to-morrow. Theater closed, audience dismissed, +new star such a pitiful failure that she is too frightened to appear."</p> + +<p>"But that isn't true—that isn't true," cried Martha.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Isn't it? Try and convince the public otherwise."</p> + +<p>"I will, and that curtain shall go up to-night" Martha faced him bravely +enough, though her courage almost failed her.</p> + +<p>"Try it and see whose orders will be obeyed. Listen—the orchestra has +finished the overture. Think carefully, for your final answer now +decides your fate. You are at the parting of the ways. A future with me, +everything you desire, or back to your days of poverty."</p> + +<p>Weldon appeared as Martha seemed to hesitate.</p> + +<p>"Shall I ring up the curtain?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Wait," replied Gordon. He turned to Martha. "Your answer?"</p> + +<p>Martha did not look at him. "No," she replied simply.</p> + +<p>Gordon drew in his breath quickly, and the concentrated anger seemed +almost ready to burst its bonds. He stood looking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> at her intently for a +moment, then apparently realizing that he was unable to alter her +decision, he threw up his hands with a despairing gesture and started +toward the door.</p> + +<p>"There will be no performance, Weldon," he said roughly. "Dismiss the +audience, pay everybody their salaries, and wind up the whole cursed +business. I have sunk twenty thousand dollars for a hobby and a pretty +face, but now, thank God, I'm through. I'm cured. That's +all—good-night."</p> + +<p>"One moment before you go," cried Martha, stung to the quick. "You may +have dazzled other girls before with your golden shower. You may have +rung up curtains on success, and claimed your reckoning, but this time, +even though you have brought me failure and humiliation, you may mark +one failure for yourself. Good-night." And with a proud gesture of +independence, she turned her back upon him, and went into her +dressing-room, while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> Gordon, with a muttered exclamation, left the +green-room for the front of the theater.</p> + +<p>As quickly as possible the despairing Weldon gave the necessary orders. +The moment the players understood there would be no performance, +pandemonium broke loose. In an instant the green-room was filled with a +crowd of excited players in oddly contrasting costumes, all chattering +away for dear life.</p> + +<p>"No performance?" cried Flossie Forsythe. "What does it all mean?"</p> + +<p>"Ain't I ever going to play a real part?" wailed Pinkie.</p> + +<p>"My first time on Broadway, too," said Arthur Mortimer, sadly.</p> + +<p>"I never heard of such an outrageous proceeding," shouted Arnold +Lawrence, pompously. "No performance, indeed? I was engaged for the +season, and I shall sue for a season's salary."</p> + +<p>"You were engaged for the run of the play," retorted Weldon, +indignantly. "If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> the play doesn't have a run you are entitled to +nothing, but I give you and every one else two weeks' salary."</p> + +<p>"It is an insult to an artist," insisted Lawrence, turning to a group of +the dissatisfied and disappointed players.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door through the boxes was thrown open and Clayton entered.</p> + +<p>"What does it all mean?" he demanded. "The theater is crowded with a lot +of people who want to know the reason for the sudden announcement. Why +will there be no performance?" he added, drawing Weldon aside.</p> + +<p>"I had to do it, Mr. Clayton," explained Weldon, privately. "You see it +is not my production—I had to obey the orders of my financial backer."</p> + +<p>"You mean—"</p> + +<p>"Gordon. Yes."</p> + +<p>"I see. Affairs came to a climax to-night," said Clayton. "I suspected +something underhanded, but I didn't believe even Gordon capable of such +a trick." He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> paused an instant. "Look here, Weldon, is this theater +leased in your name?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied Weldon, promptly.</p> + +<p>"Then you could give the performance if you wanted to?"</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Gordon will not pay the bills unless I carry out his orders," +protested Weldon.</p> + +<p>Clayton slapped him eagerly on the back. "Then carry out my orders," he +cried enthusiastically, "and I will pay the bills."</p> + +<p>"You?" Weldon's eyes lit up with renewed interest. He saw before him +another prospective backer to take the place of the one who had just +deserted him. "You? Of course it <i>could</i> be done, Clayton, the lease is +in my name."</p> + +<p>"Then that's settled," declared Clayton, quickly. "You know me and you +know my checks are good. Quick—send some one out to make an +announcement to the audience that there <i>will</i> be a performance."</p> + +<p>As the stage manager hurriedly started<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> toward the curtain, Lawrence, +who had overheard this dialogue, strutted toward Clayton.</p> + +<p>"All very good," he cried pompously. "But what about my salary?"</p> + +<p>"How much do you get?" inquired Clayton.</p> + +<p>Lawrence came close to him. "Four hundred a week," he whispered.</p> + +<p>Clayton turned to Weldon. "How much does this man get, Weldon?" he +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Seventy a week," Weldon answered quickly.</p> + +<p>Lawrence fairly fumed with rage, while the members of the company +tittered.</p> + +<p>"The terms of my contract are sacred and confidential," he protested. "I +accepted the reduced salary only because it is late in the season. You +had no right to expose the secrets of our contract."</p> + +<p>Clayton laughed. "I'll give you a hundred if you go on and give a good +performance," he volunteered. "Weldon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> make out the salary list of this +company, and I'll give you a check covering two weeks' salaries for each +member of the organization. Figure up how much the theater costs, and +whatever Gordon hasn't paid, I will. Now, everybody get ready for the +first act, and ring up the curtain."</p> + +<p>Martha, alone in her dressing-room, had heard Clayton giving his +peremptory commands. Half dazed yet at the sudden apparent collapse of +the play, she scarcely realized that defeat was even now being turned +into victory. But the command to get ready for the act awoke her from +her lethargy.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clayton," she cried, coming to him, "how can you do all this?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not as rich as Gordon," he replied, looking at her a bit +reproachfully. "Not by a long shot, but I guess you can star for a night +anyway, Martha, even with a one-horse angel."</p> + +<p>"You are not doing all this for me? Why, it would be better to let the +whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> thing be a total failure than to take such a risk."</p> + +<p>"I am doing it because it pleases me," explained Clayton. "And because I +want you to have every chance for success that they tried to rob you +of."</p> + +<p>"Just wish me luck?" asked Martha, softly, holding out her hand.</p> + +<p>"I wish you everything you wish yourself," he replied.</p> + +<p>"The curtain is up, Miss Farnum," cried Lizzie, entering for a moment +from the stage. "It is nearly time for your entrance."</p> + +<p>"Wish me success," pleaded Martha, again.</p> + +<p>"Is that all you wish for?" asked Clayton, going with her toward the +stage. "If that is all you wish, I hope from the bottom of my heart you +will win it to-night."</p> + +<p>Martha withdrew her hand, turned, and half smiled, just before stepping +upon the stage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wonder if it is?" she said wistfully, and in another moment Clayton +heard a roll of applause go over the house as she stepped before the +footlights.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE MORNING AFTER</h3> + + +<p>White and gold were the decorations of Martha's apartment in the +Webster—all white and gold except the dainty bedroom, which was in +pink. Visitors, however, saw only the white and gold of the parlor and +the drawing-room, with perhaps an occasional glimpse into the dark-oak +dining-room.</p> + +<p>The first streaks of early dawn, penetrating the crevices behind the +heavy, drawn curtains, cast a few shadows, and in the dim light one +might have seen a dozen baskets of flowers, mostly orchids and roses, +ranged about the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>It must have been almost nine o'clock when Lizzie, entering from the +maid's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> room, drew the curtains and flooded the white and gold parlor +with rich, warm sun-light. The curtains of the bedroom were still drawn, +but evidently Martha was wide awake, for a voice called from the inner +room.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Lizzie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Martha," replied the maid. "It's 'most nine o'clock. Shall I +get you the papers?"</p> + +<p>Martha, hastily throwing on a pink dressing-gown, entered the parlor. +Her eyes were still heavy, and her face was drawn and troubled.</p> + +<p>"I've had a wretched night," she said, dropping into a great arm-chair. +"I couldn't sleep. After that terrible ordeal—"</p> + +<p>"Terrible?" repeated Lizzie, aghast. "Lord, Miss, I heard all the stage +hands say the show was great. The actors are the only ones I heard roast +it at all."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I made a terrible mistake," sighed Martha. "I tried to do +things too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> quickly. I was ambitious, but I forgot that the race is not +always to the swift. I should have spent years and years in preparation +before attempting last night. Of course I was misled by the management, +who made me believe I was being promoted because of my ability."</p> + +<p>"And wasn't that the truth?" demanded Lizzie.</p> + +<p>Martha smiled wanly. "I can't explain now," she said. "I know I never +realized until after last night what an absolute failure I had been."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't say that, Miss Martha," protested Lizzie. "Look at the +applause you got, and all these flowers."</p> + +<p>"Applause and flowers—that's all failures ever get," and Martha shook +her head wearily. "The end of my dreams has come. I shall close the +theater to-night."</p> + +<p>"Lord, Miss Martha," cried Lizzie, "don't be hasty. Ah," as a knock +sounded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> on the door, "there are the papers. Shall I open them up for +you?"</p> + +<p>"I can find the notices easily enough," said Martha, taking the papers. +"I am sure the horrid headlines will stare me in the face. Mr. Clayton +tried to encourage me last night, but I am sure the verdict will be +against me."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't bother with the papers if I felt that way, Miss Martha. Lots +of the actors at Mrs. Anderson's said they never read no criticisms, but +once in a great while when an actor got a good line, I always noticed +he'd find a way to read it aloud at the supper table."</p> + +<p>"By the way, Lizzie," said Martha, suddenly, "is Mrs. Anderson's full +now, do you suppose?"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose I could get my old room again?"</p> + +<p>"Your old room?" cried the amazed Lizzie. "Why, that's no place for a +real actress."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>Martha sighed again and tried to smile. "But I'm not a real actress and +I must find a cheaper place. Pack up to-day. Better 'phone the hotel +office at once that we shall leave in an hour."</p> + +<p>Lizzie went to the 'phone while Martha opened the newspapers. She turned +the pages idly until she found the headlines she sought, and for a +moment read in silence. Suddenly she sprang to her feet and threw the +papers on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Infamous," she cried bitterly. "Why need they be so cruel? I won't read +another line."</p> + +<p>At that moment there was a knock at the door, and Pinkie, resplendent in +a new tailor-made gown, brilliantly red, burst into the room.</p> + +<p>"Just rushed in to tell you how perfectly grand you were last night, and +what perfectly lovely things the papers said about me," she cried. "Of +course, that smart critic on the <i>American</i> might have said I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> had +improved a little, but then he said I was just as artistic when playing +lines as when I was only in the sextette. Nice, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>Martha smiled. "What did the <i>Journal</i> say?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, something nice—I don't quite remember," evaded Pinkie.</p> + +<p>"And the <i>Herald</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Success!" cried Pinkie. "But I think it's a shame what some of them +said about you, Martha. It isn't so at all."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear," said Martha, somewhat wearily. "We did the best we +could."</p> + +<p>"The trouble was the play was bad," continued Pinkie. "Don't know what +that author meant by putting me only in one act, and then letting +Flossie come on twice to interrupt my scenes. But come along, +Martha—you must put some powder on that nose if you expect to live +through another day. I'll help you dress."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 502px;"> +<img src="images/illus218.jpg" width="502" height="650" alt=""This is infamous, infamous! I won't read another +line."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"This is infamous, infamous! I won't read another +line."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>Half an hour later, as Martha had almost completed her toilette, Lizzie +interrupted to say that the hotel clerk wanted to send some one up to +look at the apartment—a newly married couple. Would it disturb Miss +Farnum? If so, they would make the couple call again.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," replied Martha. "Show them around yourself. I'll be +ready to leave in a few minutes."</p> + +<p>Some three minutes later, Mr. "Marky" Zinsheimer and his bride, formerly +Miss Flossie Forsythe, were ushered into the white and gold apartment, +entirely ignorant of the fact that it was occupied by Miss Farnum. Mr. +and Mrs. Zinsheimer having been married a little more than one hour, +were already looking for a dove-cote for their honeymoon.</p> + +<p>"This might suit us all right—" began Zinsheimer, when Flossie +interrupted him with a shriek.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul, if it ain't Lizzie," shrieked Flossie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lizzie?" repeated Zinsheimer. "What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>"Why, this is Miss Farnum's apartment," explained the maid. "I'll tell +her you're here, Miss Forsythe—"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Zinsheimer, if you please," responded that young lady, haughtily. +"We were married this morning."</p> + +<p>"Fact," admitted Zinsheimer. "I always liked you best, Flossie, until +you got mad at me because I helped Pinkie, but when I saw you playing +the demure little maid last night, with Pinkie lording it all over you, +and you never answering back, I said: 'There's the girl for me.' So I +waited at the stage door, and when you came out I grabbed you and we sat +up so late at Jack's that it was morning before we finished talking +things over. So then there was only one thing to do—get married."</p> + +<p>"Sure, you both look happy," said Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"And we are happy, aren't we, Marky?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> cried Flossie. "I'm going to give +up the stage for good and all."</p> + +<p>"You can have this apartment in an hour," said Lizzie. "Miss Farnum is +giving it up because it's too expensive."</p> + +<p>"Too expensive for her, eh?" smiled Zinsheimer; then he added +confidentially: "I know lots of people who would consider it an honor to +be allowed to pay her rent."</p> + +<p>"Marky," cried Flossie, warningly. "Remember you are a married man now."</p> + +<p>"Marky," to conciliate his bride, took her in his arms and kissed her. +At this psychological moment, Miss Pinkie Lexington emerged from the +boudoir. She shrieked at the sight.</p> + +<p>"Marky," she cried. "You here with Flossie?"</p> + +<p>Flossie proudly drew Zinsheimer far from the possibility of contact with +Miss Lexington, and proudly, almost haughtily, threw a defiant look at +her rival.</p> + +<p>"My <i>husband</i>, Mr. Zinsheimer," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>Pinkie, with a scream, sank upon the big arm-chair and rocked herself to +and fro. "They are married," she moaned. "They are married."</p> + +<p>"This morning, dear," smiled Flossie, coldly. "Thanks so much for your +congratulations."</p> + +<p>"Married," repeated Pinkie, incredulously. "Married."</p> + +<p>Zinsheimer advanced cautiously, and gave her several encouraging pats on +the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"There, now, don't take on so," he said suavely. "There's other fish in +the sea, almost as good. It isn't half as bad as what they say in the +papers about the play. Listen to this," he added, unfolding a newspaper +and reading: "'A luridly ludicrous exhibition of maudlin mush,' Ach +Gott, what you think of that? 'A misguided author loaded a thirteen-inch +gun to the muzzle with idiotic words and reduced a large and +long-suffering audience to a peppered wreck. As an author, he's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> a joke. +As a murderer, he has the punch.' What funny fellows those critics are. +Here's what he says about Miss Farnum: 'The star—who, by the way, could +only be observed with the aid of a Lick telescope—was only a shooting +star. She made one faint, fantastic fizzle, then dropped without even a +hiss into the gloom of merciful oblivion. She was not even a meteor, and +only an innate sense of delicacy prevents our calling her a +devil-chaser.' No wonder the ladies love the <i>Sun</i>. Now, Pinkie, +listen—here's what he says about <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"What?" shouted Pinkie. "Does that man dare—"</p> + +<p>"He does. Listen: 'Among the cast appeared Miss Pinkie Lexington, with a +German accent on her Lex; a portly person of the oval type. She looked +like a turnip and acted the part artistically. Had this succulent +vegetable only burst from her scant foliage—but there, who roasts a +turnip?'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if he were only here now, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> I could get my mitts on him," +shouted the frantic Pinkie, springing to her feet. "Oh, let me go. I am +stifling. Thank heaven, the air outside at least is pure." And Pinkie +stormed from the room.</p> + +<p>Flossie gazed after the retreating form of her former chum.</p> + +<p>"Good exit, that," she observed. "Pinkie really ought to go in for +melodrama."</p> + +<p>Martha, who had heard enough of the commotion to realize what was going +on, entered and congratulated both Flossie and Mr. Zinsheimer.</p> + +<p>"Sorry you are leaving this place," volunteered "Marky." "Any—er—money +troubles?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever, thank you," replied Martha. "I am going to leave the +stage and go back to my old home in Indiana."</p> + +<p>"Leave the stage?" gasped Flossie.</p> + +<p>"If you ever need assistance, you know"—"Marky" coughed +confidentially.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px;"> +<img src="images/illus226.jpg" width="525" height="650" alt=""She looked like a turnip and acted the part +artistically."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"She looked like a turnip and acted the part +artistically."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank you. Good-bye," replied Martha, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Marky," pouted Flossie, "I think we'd better be going. Come—you +promised to buy me a lot of new things this morning. Hurry up, <i>angel</i>."</p> + +<p>"Angel?" repeated Zinsheimer. "That's just what I would like to be, but +she won't let me. All right, Flossie, I'm coming."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE FINAL RECKONING</h3> + + +<p>Gordon, too, had spent a restless night. Leaving the theater abruptly +after giving orders to dismiss the audience, he had driven furiously to +his club. There, in the seclusion of the grill-room and in a niche not +far removed from the bar, he had endeavored to alleviate his +disappointment by partaking of many gin rickeys. Late at night some of +his friends interrupted him at this amusement to tell him of the new +play at the Globe.</p> + +<p>"New play?" he repeated. "Why, the theater wasn't open."</p> + +<p>"Sure it was," replied one of his companions. "But they might as well +have kept it closed. Beastly piece, hackneyed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> stuff, stale jokes, bad +company, and the star—piffle. Nice enough little girl, you know, very +pretty and all that, but she can't act for sour apples."</p> + +<p>Gordon listened in surprise. "You mean to say," he demanded, "that +Martha Farnum appeared at the Globe to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Surest thing you know," his friend replied. "I was there and saw her."</p> + +<p>Thereupon Gordon had hunted up Weldon, bitterly assailed him for his +treachery, and learned the whole truth of Clayton's interference. The +fact that the girl had won out against him worried him. People didn't +usually triumph over his bulldog tenacity and obstinate determination. +However, when the morning broke, he felt that he must have another +interview with the girl. If he had been mistaken in her—if she really +had the divine spark, after all, or something in its place which helped +her to face that unsympathetic audience the night before—he wanted to +discover it, too. Therefore, shortly after Martha had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> finished packing, +he was announced, and told to come up.</p> + +<p>"I really ought not to see you, Mr. Gordon," said Martha, simply, in a +businesslike tone. "But there are certain things that must be said +before I go away."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" cried Gordon, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Home—to Indiana."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely. "You are going away with that +man Clayton."</p> + +<p>"That is not true," replied Martha, with heat.</p> + +<p>"Well, you ought to feel grateful to him for letting you appear last +night, after I had stopped you."</p> + +<p>In spite of herself, Martha couldn't resist the inclination to smile, +but it was a wan smile.</p> + +<p>"I wish he had stopped me, too," she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you? And yet you turned from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> me, who can give you everything, +to him, who can give you nothing."</p> + +<p>"He has given me more than you can ever offer."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"The right to a friendship that is good and true. I am glad you came +this morning, for we must have a settlement."</p> + +<p>"A settlement? How?"</p> + +<p>"I to keep what is mine, and to return that which is yours."</p> + +<p>"Return what?"</p> + +<p>"Every penny you have spent in this mad scheme must be returned to you. +I don't know how, or when, but I will work to earn the money and repay +every cent. I will not be in your debt."</p> + +<p>The telephone bell rang. Martha answered it.</p> + +<p>"If you are expecting visitors—" Gordon said.</p> + +<p>"It is only Mr. Clayton and I want you to see him," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Clayton again, eh? How long have you been friends?"</p> + +<p>"I met him the same day I met you, at French Lick. He took an interest +in me, in a business way, and loaned me the money I needed to come here +and study for the stage. Every dollar of that debt has been repaid long +since, but he is still a friend, tried and true, and one who would never +have been guilty of your treachery of last night."</p> + +<p>Clayton entered jauntily. He seemed somewhat surprised at seeing Gordon.</p> + +<p>"Little business council?" he said easily.</p> + +<p>"It happens to be something more," explained Martha. "I have pointed out +to Mr. Gordon that there must be a final settlement between us."</p> + +<p>"Just what I was going to say," replied Clayton, sitting on the arm of +the great chair. "You see, Gordon, it is absolutely necessary that Miss +Farnum—or some one else on her behalf—should return to you every +dollar you have spent on her. As<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> for what you actually lost in the +starring venture—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," sneered Gordon. "A change of managers?"</p> + +<p>"No," declared Martha. "I have had my chance, and I have failed. +To-night the theater will be closed."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's wise, at any rate," said Gordon. "So it's merely a change +of angels—with you, Clayton, to pay the bills?"</p> + +<p>"Hereafter," said Clayton, calmly, "it will be my pleasure and my +privilege to pay all of Miss Farnum's bills for life. She has promised +to be my wife."</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Martha, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Your wife?" demanded Gordon.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," continued Clayton. "I bid higher than anything you can +offer, Gordon. My bid includes a wedding ring."</p> + +<p>Gordon stepped back, looked from Martha to Clayton, and back again to +the girl, who stood, confused and embarrassed, with her eyes turned +toward the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> floor. Then the innate refinement and the result of years of +breeding asserted itself in Gordon's pale face. He stepped forward +seriously to Martha.</p> + +<p>"Miss Farnum," he said, humbly and sincerely, "better men than <i>I</i> have +made mistakes. May I wish you every happiness? The same to you, Clayton, +with all my heart. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>He turned and walked from the room. Not until he had gone did Martha +dare to look Clayton squarely in the face.</p> + +<p>"I was going to write you this morning," she said, "to tell you that I +am going home."</p> + +<p>"Without your manager's permission? Not even a two weeks' notice?"</p> + +<p>"Do be serious, please," she pleaded. Then with a sudden outburst of +passion: "I've failed in everything I ever tried."</p> + +<p>"You haven't failed in my eyes," declared Clayton, taking her hand, +while she turned away from him. "You have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> merely missed one opportunity +you had dreamed of."</p> + +<p>"Yesterday I dreamed, but to-day I am awake. I am going home."</p> + +<p>Clayton reached over and took her other hand, then swung her around so +that she faced him and could not evade his direct glance.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell Gordon I was going to marry you?" he demanded. "I've run +out of all my other fads, and now my latest fad is trying to run away +from me."</p> + +<p>Martha gazed up at him coquettishly. "You mean you want to marry me just +to see what I'll do?" she pouted.</p> + +<p>"That's one of the reasons, not to mention loving you," replied Clayton, +in a brisk, businesslike tone. "Well?"</p> + +<p>Martha paused a moment. "Do you remember," she asked, "once you said the +greatest success meant nothing if the right person did not share it with +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You were right. And now I know that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> the greatest failure also means +nothing, if the right person <i>does</i> share it with you."</p> + +<p>Clayton held out his arms entreatingly.</p> + +<p>"I think I'm going to like my latest fad immensely," he whispered.</p> + +<p>"And I shall try to stick longer than any of the others, even the +postage stamps," she answered, as she nestled in his arms.</p> + + +<h4>THE END</h4> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Star for a Night, by Elsie Janis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STAR FOR A NIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 33785-h.htm or 33785-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/7/8/33785/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Star for a Night + A Story of Stage Life + +Author: Elsie Janis + +Release Date: September 21, 2010 [EBook #33785] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STAR FOR A NIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + +[Illustration: ELSIE JANIS IN A FEW OF HER CHARACTERIZATIONS.] + +A STAR FOR A NIGHT + +A STORY OF STAGE LIFE + +BY + +ELSIE JANIS + +WITH PICTURES FROM THE PLAY TAKEN ESPECIALLY FOR THE BOOK + +[Illustration] + +NEW YORK + +WILLIAM RICKEY & COMPANY + +1911 + + +Copyright, 1911, by +BRUCE EDWARDS + +Copyright, 1911, by +WILLIAM RICKEY & COMPANY + +_Registered at Stationers' Hall, London_ +_(All Rights Reserved)_ + +Printed in the United States of America + +PRESS OF WILLIAM G. HEWITT, BROOKLYN, N. Y. + +_To My Mother_ + + + + +ORIGINAL CAST + +OF + +A STAR FOR A NIGHT + +_Produced at Charles Dillingham's Globe Theatre, New York_ + + +"MARKY" ZINSHEIMER _Mr. Joseph Cawthorn_ +MRS. BLACKMAN} Guests at {_Miss Jane Bliss_ +MRS. GILDAY } the {_Miss Pauline Hathaway_ +MRS. MARTIN } Claypool {_Miss Josephine Lachmar_ +MRS. CARLIN } Hotel {_Miss Henrietta Pouts_ +BELL-BOY _Mr. Al Stuart_ +MRS. DAINTON _Miss Harriet Sterling_ +VICTOR WELDON _Mr. Ralph Nairn_ +SANFORD GORDON _Mr. Stanley H. Forde_ +FELICE } Mrs. Dainton's {_Miss Josephine Kernell_ +MURRAY } servants {_Mr. Jack Sullivan_ +FLOSSIE FORSYTHE _Miss Elizabeth Brice_ +MRS. KILPATRICK _Miss Margaret King_ +MARTHA FARNUM _Miss Elsie Janis_ +"PINKIE" LEXINGTON _Miss Julia Frary_ +GEORGE CLAYTON _Mr. Wallace McCutcheon_ +LIZZIE _Miss Olive Quimby_ +ARTHUR MORTIMER _Mr. Gene Revere_ +MRS. JANE ANDERSON _Miss Queenie Vassar_ +MESSENGER BOY _Master Albert Lamson_ +ARNOLD LAWRENCE _Mr. Charles Judels_ +PHIL HUMMER _Mr. Charles King_ + +_Business Manager_ J. CLYDE RIGBY +_Stage Manager_ E. C DONNELLY + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +PAGE + +"Zinsheimer, of New York" 1 + +The English Actress 15 + +Introducing Martha Farnum 27 + +A Glimpse into the Past 49 + +Strictly a Business Bargain 63 + +"Where Everything is Homelike" 71 + +A Hundred-Dollar Bill 89 + +Sanford Gordon Reappears 103 + +Love and Ambition 121 + +The Underground Wires 133 + +In the Green-Room 143 + +An Overture and a Prelude 155 + +Before the Curtain Rose 167 + +The Morning After 183 + +The Final Reckoning 197 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Elsie Janis in a Few of Her Characterizations-- _Frontispiece_ + + FACING PAGE + +"Marky" Zinsheimer (Joseph Cawthorn) 4 + +"Oh, that's Miss Farnum. She's old Mrs. Kilpatrick's companion" 28 + +"I haven't had an orchid this season" 84 + +"More flowers, and from a man I have never spoken to" 94 + +"I refuse to let you go, Martha" 98 + +"I'm sorry I'm so poor," sobbed Pinkie 102 + +"And glad I am to be back in your hospitable house" 114 + +"My boots have not arrived, I refuse to go on unless + correctly dressed" 162 + +Martha Farnum (Elsie Janis) 168 + +"This is infamous, infamous! I won't read another line" 188 + +"She looked like a turnip and acted the part artistically" 194 + + + + +A STAR FOR A NIGHT + + + + +CHAPTER I + +"ZINSHEIMER, OF NEW YORK" + + +Stick a pin in the map of southern Indiana, half an inch to the left of +Lost River, and about six hours from the rest of the world, as time is +used to measure railroad journeys, and you will find a speck called +French Lick Springs. Hidden away in the hills, so remote from the +centers of civilization that only wealthy inebriates and chronic +invalids can afford to visit this out of the way, yet expensive, spot, +French Lick has other attractions than the natural beauties of its +scenery and the health-giving quality of its waters. For while the sick +and the ailing may be tempted to the Springs in the hope of gaining +health from the bad-smelling waters they drink, and dozens of +florid-faced men invade the little town almost every day from the big +and distant cities in order to "get washed out" after too much +indulgence in alcoholic stimulants, there are others who go to the +Springs simply for the excitement of a little whirl at the gaming +tables, which rumor says abound there, but which a shrewd deputy sheriff +invariably reports to the local grand jury, "_Non est._" + +The town itself is a tiny hamlet. There is a post-office, a railroad +station, a few frame buildings, and the hotel--_the_ hotel, because it +is the only shelter the town affords to the weary traveler. Patrons who +have stopped at the City Hotel in Marshalltown, Iowa, or the Commercial +House in Joplin, Missouri, may wonder how such a tiny town supports such +a gigantic hotel, but the rural spectators at the railroad station, who +have seen the trains on the little branch road bring in Pullman after +Pullman loaded to the roofs, know that no small part of the great +outside world comes here for rest, recreation, and rehabilitation. +Drinking is under the ban here--that is, if you must drink, you must +drink the sulphur water. And every one who has tried to mix alcohol with +the water of the Springs knows the evil consequences thereof. + +Which latter explains why Mr. "Marky" Zinsheimer, New York, feather +importer, was particularly grouchy on a certain autumn afternoon when he +strolled into the sun parlor on the veranda of the French Lick Springs +Hotel. In the vicinity of Broadway and Canal Street, New York, Mr. +Zinsheimer was a personage of great importance. Not a cloak model in the +Grand Street district but knew him to be "a perfectly lovely gentleman." +Not a chorus girl south of Fifty-ninth Street but knew that "Marky" was +always a friend in need and a friend indeed. The waiters at Rector's +treated him almost as if he were an equal. He was always sure of a +prominent table at the Cafe de l'Opera, whether he wore evening clothes +or not. He was accustomed to attention, and demanded it. Furthermore, he +was willing to pay for all the attention he received. Forty-two years +old, with a blond German personality which manifested itself in a +slightly bald forehead, slightly curled blond hair, and a slightly blond +moustache, Mr. "Marky" Zinsheimer gave every outward evidence of being +an important personage. His clothes were, perhaps, a trifle extreme; his +tie perhaps a trifle too pronounced in color; his watch-chain a trifle +too heavy; and his solitaire diamond stud was undoubtedly too large; yet +for all that, if you were in the least bit worldly, "Marky" Zinsheimer +was not a person to be lightly ignored. + +[Illustration: "MARKY" ZINSHEIMER (JOSEPH CAWTHORN)] + +Mr. Zinsheimer's natural good humor was disturbed even before he made +his entrance into the sun parlor. In the first place, he had gone seven +days without a drink, a feat simple enough for a camel, but slightly +difficult for a Zinsheimer. In the second place, he had devised a scheme +for entertainment during his enforced vacation at the Springs, said +entertainment comprising a visit and the companionship at golf of one +Miss Flossie Forsythe, of the "Follies" company, who had hurriedly left +the company in Chicago to accept Mr. Zinsheimer's telegraphed +invitation. But, while Mr. Zinsheimer was genuinely fond of Flossie, and +had even once spoken vaguely of matrimony, he had found that a week of +her society at breakfast, dinner and supper, to say nothing of golf, was +a trifle wearing. + +The third reason for Mr. Zinsheimer's perturbation was the discovery, as +he entered the sun parlor, that all the desirable chairs were occupied. + +Two of the easy wicker rockers were drawn up by a small table, where a +game of checkers was in progress between two fat ladies. Ranged at +intervals along the glass-enclosed front were four other equally stout +ladies, lolling back in equally comfortable chairs, some reading, some +dozing. Mr. Zinsheimer, who had anticipated a pleasant morning reading +the New York papers, was obviously annoyed. Fortunately, he knew the +proper method of attacking and routing the enemy. + +One of the stout ladies, puzzling over her next move, was almost choked +when a whiff of smoke was blown across the checker-board. A moment +later, a somnolent and rotund lady in one of the rockers started up +furiously as another whiff drifted in her direction. A page-boy entering +at this particular moment was hurriedly summoned by the indignant +ladies, and Mr. Zinsheimer, gazing vacantly into space, felt a slight +touch on the arm. + +"Beg pardon, sir," said the boy, "smoking is not permitted here." + +Mr. Zinsheimer frowned. + +"I did not ask permission," he replied. + +Two of the stout ladies gathered up their magazines, glowered at the +placid Zinsheimer and the nonplussed boy, murmured "Wretch," and +departed. + +"But I mean, there's no smoking here," continued the boy. + +"Marky" Zinsheimer blew a particularly large whiff of smoke in the +direction of the checker-table. + +"You're wrong, kid," he remarked. "There _is_ smoking here, and I'm +doing it." + +"But it's against the hotel rules." + +"Hotel rules are like a woman's mind," said "Marky" carelessly, moving +toward the checker-table. "They can be changed to fit any situation." + +The checker-players were so much absorbed in their game that they did +not notice him at first, so he leaned over the table, genially, and +inquired: + +"Well, whose move is it now?" + +"I believe it's mine," retorted one of the two players, indignantly +rising to her feet and starting toward the door. + +"And mine," responded the other, following suit. At the door the twain +paused and called to the other occupant of the room: "We are going for a +walk, Mabel. Won't you come?" + +Mabel picked up her book and moved toward the irate checker-players who +had been so summarily routed. + +"I don't like that cigar," she declared, stopping and turning to +Zinsheimer. + +"Well, then, try one of these," responded the irrepressible "Marky," +offering several long perfectos from a leather case. He was answered +only by a snort of indignation, and the next moment the smiling and +courteous Mr. Zinsheimer, alone on the field of battle, settled himself +in the most comfortable of the vacated chairs. + +But "Marky's" serenity was to be short-lived. There was a rattle of +chatelaine chains, a vague and indistinct odor of some unrecognizable +but vivid perfume, the rustle of silken skirts, a cry of glad surprise, +and Miss Flossie Forsythe, engaging, attractive, youthful and magnetic, +settled herself on the arm of his rocking-chair as though entitled to +rest there by the law of eminent domain. + +"Marky," she cried, "I've been looking for you everywhere! Who ever +would have thought of finding you in the sun parlor?" + +Mr. Zinsheimer coughed uneasily. + +"Yes, that's just what I thought," he stammered. "You see," he added, "I +noticed you talking to that swell chap Gordon in the lobby, and I didn't +like it." + +Flossie patted his cheek playfully, in spite of "Marky's" efforts to +elude her, and said joyfully: + +"Oh, Marky, you were jealous!" + +Mr. Zinsheimer grunted. + +"Well, if you want to find a new backer, go ahead. All right, only you'd +better be careful I don't get cold feet first. Feather importers _is_ in +demand on Broadway this season," he added as an afterthought. + +"But Mr. Gordon is an old friend," pouted Flossie. "I was introduced to +him one night when he sat at a table next to me during the run of +'Florodora.'" + +"I suppose you were one of them original sextetters, eh?" + +"Now, Marky, don't be horrid when I was just going to ask a little favor +of you." + +Mr. Zinsheimer rose to his feet carefully, and buttoned up his coat with +an ominous air, while, relieved of his ballast, Flossie almost fell from +her comfortable perch on the arm of the big chair. + +"Nothing doing, Flossie," remarked Zinsheimer, coldly. "Of course it's +all right for me to pay the hotel bill of my fiancee, but as the bill is +assuming generous proportions, I don't think the fiancee should expect +to go any further." + +Flossie's dark eyes half filled with tears, and there was just a slight +suspicion of a twitch around the lips at the injustice done her, and she +said plaintively: + +"Oh, I don't want to borrow any money." + +At that Zinsheimer threw open his coat easily, sighed with relief, and +inquired easily: + +"Why, certainly, my dear. What is it you want?" + +"Well, it's about my chum, Pinkie Lexington," began Flossie, brushing a +few spects of dust from Mr. Zinsheimer's coat-sleeve. "We were out +together two years ago with 'The Girl from Paris'--the time it stranded +in Butte and you sent us the railroad tickets to come home." + +"I remember," interrupted Zinsheimer, quickly. "Rather a pretty girl she +was, too." + +"She's still pretty, but she's awful fat," resumed Flossie, wonderfully +innocently. "And I never heard any one call her beautiful. Anyhow, the +show she's with has gone on the rocks up near Indianapolis, and Pinkie +has been left high and dry without a cent." + +"So you want me to send her some more rocks, eh?" + +"Not at all. Pinkie wrote me all about it, and I wired her to come down +here at once. She's due this afternoon, and I can share my room with her +if you'll just speak to the manager and say we're good for the money." + +Zinsheimer scratched his head reflectively. + +"But neither of you has any money," he ventured. + +"You know as soon as my lawsuit is settled, I will be on velvet," +retorted Flossie, haughtily. "Meanwhile, your word with the manager +goes." + +"Lawsuit?" repeated Mr. Zinsheimer. "Now, Flossie, that's been going on +for five years and I never found out yet what it was all about. Where is +it and when will it be settled?" + +Flossie's evident embarrassment at the inquiry into the facts of her +lawsuit was fortunately terminated by the sudden entrance of a bell-boy +with a telegram for "Miss Forsythe." + +"That's me, boy," cried Flossie, grabbing the envelope and tearing it +open. "It's from Pinkie and she'll be here on the 3:30 train," she +explained, turning to Zinsheimer. "Boy, call me a carriage." + +"Yes, Miss," responded the boy, moving toward the office. + +"And have it charged to my room," called Flossie, hastily. Then, taking +"Marky" by the coat lapels, she turned her big brown eyes upward and +asked archly: + +"You will speak to the manager about Pinkie?" + +Mr. Zinsheimer endeavored to gain time, but the appeal was direct and to +the point. He coughed twice, as if planning resistance, and then +surrendered. + +"All right," he growled. "I'll speak to the manager, Flossie, but I know +who'll pay the bill." + +"You old dear," cried Flossie, and in another moment the rattling +chatelaines, the vague and unrecognizable perfume, the rustling skirts +and the fascinating Flossie flitted along the veranda toward the waiting +carriage, while "Marky" tried to get interested in the New York papers +and figure the total of seventeen days at five dollars a day, with +extras in the shape of flowers, carriages, candies, manicures, tips, and +other incidentals dear to the heart of a lovely woman who lives +economically but well. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE ENGLISH ACTRESS + + +Mrs. Dainton, the great English actress, had the artistic temperament. +Mrs. Dainton had nerves. Mrs. Dainton had many other things which an +imported foreign star anxious to create a sensation might be expected to +have. For instance, she had Fuzzy-Wuzzy, the petite Pomeranian poodle +which never left her night or day. She had her personal manager, Victor +Weldon, to act as valet for the dog by daytime, and attend to occasional +business details. There were also two maids--Lizette, the French maid, +whose duties were of a personal nature at hotels; and Johanna, the +German maid, who assisted at the theater. Furthermore, there was a +footman whose special province it was to precede Mrs. Dainton at all +times and make sure that no rude persons caused her the slightest +annoyance. In the trail of this imposing procession, as a rule, could be +found Sanford Gordon. + +Once Mrs. Dainton had been a great beauty. The daughter of an obscure +country curate in her native England, conditions made it necessary for +her to support herself. Naturally, as so many of her sex have done, she +gravitated toward the stage, which always beckons most alluringly to +those who have beauty, youth and talent. Too often it is but the Lorelei +by which are wrecked the disappointed hopes of those not fitted by +nature or temperament for the hardships that must be encountered, but +with Mrs. Dainton the struggle for success had been aided materially by +the beauty and charm with which she was richly endowed. Returning to +America after a number of years--for her first tour of this country +after her London triumphs had been like a whirlwind--Mrs. Dainton had +found herself still viewed with interest, still admired for the great +beauty which had now reached its maturity, and still peevish and +petulant as a result of the fulfillment of her every slightest wish and +whim. Her little eccentricities were always excused by her personal +manager as "Madame's temperament." If an inquisitive newspaper man +wanted to know why Madame had held the curtain until nine o'clock--when +in reality she had merely motored into the country too far and had been +careless of the time--Victor would explain: "Ah, Madame has been +visiting some sick children. She is always so generous, so considerate." +Long experience had made Victor invaluable. His it was to receive the +blame whenever anything went wrong, to excuse to the utmost the +weaknesses of the English actress whenever, as they often did, her whims +seemed likely to affect the box-office receipts. + +Consequently, when Mrs. Dainton and her entourage, passing out on their +way to Sanford Gordon's new ninety horse-power touring car which was +drawn up before the hotel, entered the sun parlor, it didn't in the +least surprise the amiable and considerate Victor to have the English +actress pause, sniff, stamp her foot, and protest. + +"Some one has been smoking here," she insisted shrilly. "Victor, send +for the manager! The same thing happened yesterday." + +"I have already complained once--" began Weldon, shifting the Pomeranian +from the left arm to the right. + +"No matter--complain again. If we cannot have satisfaction, complain a +third and a fourth time. That is what hotel managers are here for--to +listen to complaints." + +Sanford Gordon, the least obtrusive figure of the little cavalcade, and +the one who, for personal reasons, least desired a scene which might +find its way into the newspapers, stepped forward to calm the irate +actress. Once, rumor said, Sanford Gordon had been able to calm her +impetuous spirit, but that had been in days long gone by. Then he had +chartered a private car to be near her on her travels, he had risked an +open scandal by his devotion to the celebrated beauty. Now things were +different. Not only did he not relish the idea of an altercation with a +hotel management, always fraught with sensational newspaper +possibilities which his smart fellow club members in New York might turn +into a jibe or a joke, but his influence with Mrs. Dainton herself +seemed to be waning. + +"Really, my dear Mrs. Dainton," he began softly, "what does it matter? +We do not intend to remain here more than a moment." + +Perhaps for some hidden reason of her own, Mrs. Dainton seemed to find +pleasure in turning upon him suddenly. + +"How do you know how long I may stay here? Perhaps I may wish to spend +the afternoon here," she declared. "Some one has been smoking here, +smoking vile, filthy cigars. Such things affect my voice. And what could +I do without my voice? I couldn't act. I should be penniless. Victor, +you must not let this happen again." + +"I will do my best, Mrs. Dainton," replied Victor. + +"Marky" Zinsheimer, covertly throwing away his cigar, rose and bowed +before the English actress, while the footman stared in surprise, and +Victor seemed aghast at the presumption. + +"I beg pardon, Mrs. Dainton, it was I who smoked," said "Marky." + +Mrs. Dainton surveyed him curiously through her lorgnette. + +"Indeed! You should have known better. I really think you had better +complain to the manager, Victor, about this person." + +"My name is Zinsheimer," bowed "Marky," smiling amiably. "Well-known +first-nighter in New York--go to all the theaters--maybe you've heard of +me. I'm known everywhere along Broadway. Perhaps you may remember I +bought the first box for your opening night last season. Yes, paid three +hundred dollars for it, too," he added proudly, as an afterthought. + +"Really?" repeated Mrs. Dainton, languidly. "Such things do not interest +me in the least. I never think of the sordid details of business--I live +only for my art." + +She passed him by as though he were merely a part of the furniture. +"Marky" gazed at her furtively, but slowly his composure deserted him. +He backed away carefully from this wonderful creation. + +"She lives only for her art, eh?" he murmured softly. "I got you--you'll +die young," he added to himself, as he drew another cigar from his +pocket, ostentatiously lighted it, and strolled out onto the veranda. + +"Victor, is the motor here?" demanded Mrs. Dainton. + +Victor shifted the Pomeranian to the other arm, stepped to the door of +the sun parlor, and reported that the chauffeur seemed to be tinkering +with the car. + +"And must I breathe this horrible atmosphere while that lazy chauffeur +pretends to fix the car? You must discharge him and get another." + +"But I say," broke in Gordon, "the man's the best driver I ever had. I +brought him from France." + +"I don't care if you brought him from Hindoostan," retorted Mrs. +Dainton, coldly. "When I say I will not use him after to-day, I mean +it." Reaching two daintily gloved hands toward the Pomeranian, snugly +ensconced under Victor's arm, the actress grasped its little, fuzzy +head, pressed it to her cheek, and smothered it with kisses. "And my +poor 'ittle Fuzzy-Wuzzy. Must 'oo breafe ze awful smoke, too, bress um +baby heartsums. Ums 'ittle Fuzzy-Wuzzy is mamma's pet, isn't ums?" + +"The motor is ready now, Madame," ventured Victor stolidly. + +Mrs. Dainton handed the dog to Johanna. + +"Wrap the precious darling up warmly, Johanna," she said. "You ride with +me, Victor. Lizette, my cloak. Crawley, you ride in front with the +chauffeur and keep any dust from entering Fuzzy's eyes." + +As the procession started toward the waiting car, Gordon, who followed +close by the English actress, inquired: + +"Where shall we go to-day?" + +"Really, I don't think we shall have room for you to-day, Sanford," said +Mrs. Dainton, somewhat coldly, pausing at the top of the steps while the +maids, assisted by the footman and Victor, helped Fuzzy-Wuzzy tenderly +into the car. + +"That's what you have said for the past three days," Gordon cried +tensely. "And yet I brought my own machine and my own chauffeur out +here from New York just to please you." + +"And you are pleasing me a great deal, Sanford, by letting me go alone." + +"Will nothing I do ever move you?" inquired Gordon. Then, as he saw she +was more interested in the way Johanna was holding the Pomeranian, he +added fiercely: "Once you would have answered differently." + +Mrs. Dainton turned on him, her manner a strange mingling of sadness and +regret. + +"Ah, yes, once," she said softly. "I loved you then without any thought +of the future, and I have paid for it with many, many bitter years of +repentance. Now, after all these years--years when you seemed to have +forgotten my very existence and the thing which you had once called +love--I return to America, praised and honored by those who in the old +days had treated me so lightly, you among the rest." + +"That's not true," broke in Gordon. "I always loved you." + +"But we parted," continued Mrs. Dainton, bitterly. "And if I had +returned, needing your help instead of being able to reject all that you +can give, would you have come to me again?" + +"You know I should have." + +"No, Sanford, we seek only that which is beyond our reach," she said +softly, laying her hand on his arm. "The candle has burned out. Do not +try to relight it. I have been only an incident in your life--" + +"That's not true." + +"Don't you suppose I know about the others?" + +"They were nothing to me. It was you, always you." + +"One who has been through the mill doesn't care to be crushed by the +mill-stones a second time. Take my advice, Sanford--return to New York, +seek out some nice young girl, and marry her." + +"Never!" + +"Really!" Mrs. Dainton laughed lightly as she ran down the steps and was +helped into the car by the vigilant Victor. "Ta-ta, Sanford, I'll see +you to-morrow, or the day after." And in another moment the big, red +touring-car had whirled away, leaving upon the steps the solitary figure +of a tall, dark, good-looking chap of uncertain age, who clenched his +hands tightly, then turned suddenly as a bell-boy passed along the +veranda. + +"Boy!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Tell my valet to pack up at once. I'm leaving for New York to-night." + +"Yes, sir. Very good, sir," closing a responsive palm. "Thank you, +sir." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INTRODUCING MARTHA FARNUM + + +In the cosmopolitan atmosphere of any famous health resort, strangely +contrasting types are often found. Amid the vain, the foolish, the +inebriates and the idle who flocked to the Springs for amusement and +diversion, there were a few who really came to seek health. For three +months, the gay passers-by on the shaded walks near the hotel had +noticed one such, an elderly lady, feeble, gray-haired, evidently +recovering from a severe illness, who invariably occupied a wheel-chair, +the motive power for which was furnished by a most attractive young girl +always clad in simple black. The girl was about nineteen, slender, +graceful, with the clear and partly sunburnt complexion which comes +from life spent much in the open air. Her eyes and hair were brown--her +eyes large and wistful, her hair light and wavy. She wore no jewelry, +and there was no suggestion of color about her costume. Yet there seemed +a certain lightness and gayety in her face which conveyed the impression +that sadness was not a component factor in her life. She smiled as, hour +after hour, she read to the invalid on the veranda, and seemed actually +to enjoy her task of wheeling the chair back and forth to the Springs in +the rear of the hotel. + +Once, when a traveling man who had strayed down to the Springs for a +weekend offered the front clerk a cheap cigar and expressed curiosity as +to the name of the young lady, that obliging encyclopedia explained: + +"Oh, that's Miss Farnum. She's old Mrs. Kilpatrick's companion. No, not +a nurse--sort of poor relative, I guess." + +[Illustration: "OH, THAT'S MISS FARNUM. SHE'S OLD MRS. KILPATRICK'S +COMPANION."] + +Whereupon the aforesaid traveling gentleman, disappointed at the obvious +impossibility of a chance to speak to Miss Farnum, whistled and said: + +"Anyhow, she's deuced pretty. I'd like to see her wearing a real gown." + +Martha's constant adherence to simple black gowns, however, was due to +two reasons. She wanted every one to know that she was there simply as a +companion: it saved her the necessity of pretending, for other girls of +her own age, guests of the hotel, made no advances of a social nature +which would have required reciprocity. Additionally, and even more +important, black was inexpensive and durable. + +For three months, now, Martha Farnum had been the companion of Mrs. +Kilpatrick, a wealthy invalid from Marion, a small town near +Indianapolis. Mrs. Kilpatrick was suffering from sciatic rheumatism, and +her physician had recommended a stay at the Springs. To her objection +that both her sons were too busy to accompany her, and that she knew no +one else who could act as a companion, the doctor had replied: + +"I know a person who will be ideal. Her name is Farnum; she's the +daughter of an old friend of mine who has been in hard luck for three +years. Lives on a farm near here. Martha is the eldest girl in a family +of seven, and I know she'll jump at the chance. You'll find her modest, +well-bred and well-educated, with just two faults"--he smiled at Mrs. +Kilpatrick's hesitation--"she's very pretty and very poor." + +Martha had been sent for, the arrangements made, and she found herself +for the first time in her life living at a real hotel, with all her +expenses paid and thirty-five dollars a month besides. Her duties were +not arduous, for the hotel servants attended to most of Mrs. +Kilpatrick's wants. She, however, read to the invalid, talked, laughed, +sang, pushed the chair around the beautiful walks, and dined with her. +Every afternoon, while Mrs. Kilpatrick took a nap, Martha was free. + +At first the hotel life dazzled her. It almost stunned her. The +transition from life on their humble farm, with all its privations and +discomforts, to what seemed to her a fairyland of lights, music, +beautiful gowns and jewels, and the wasteful extravagance and display of +wealth, seemed unreal and impossible. Back on the farm, as the eldest of +a family of seven, she had worked, endured--and hoped. But in her +wildest dreams she had never imagined such a beautiful escape. No one at +home had had the imagination to understand her. No one, unless perhaps +her father, had even sympathized with her in her dismay, when the panic +three years before had forced the little town bank to close, and a +hail-storm that same summer ruined their crops. For before that they had +intended to send her away to boarding-school at Logansport; she had even +passed her entrance examinations. Then, all that had to be forgotten in +the poverty that had followed. + +Now, for the first time, Martha was seeing _life_. It was new to her; it +frightened her, but still she was learning to love it. + +Mrs. Kilpatrick had been kind, and had grown to be genuinely fond of +her. Thus it was with a touch of sadness that she stopped Martha pushing +the chair up and down the veranda this same autumn afternoon, and +mentioned a subject which she had persistently ignored for three days. + +"Martha, dear, let me speak with you," said Mrs. Kilpatrick, suddenly. +"Bring up your chair," she added. + +"The doctor has told me," continued Mrs. Kilpatrick, "that he thinks a +sea voyage will be beneficial. He suggests that I spend the coming +winter in some warm climate, preferably Italy, and I have decided to do +so." + +Although uncertain as to just how it affected her, Martha could not +restrain her pleasure and excitement at the possible thought of going. +She clasped her hands convulsively, her eyes lighted up with +anticipation, and she cried gladly: + +"Lovely! And am I to go, too?" + +Mrs. Kilpatrick shook her head. "My dear child," she said sadly, "I am +sorry, but I shall be unable to take you. My sister, who is in New York, +is to accompany me," she explained. "I'm afraid I shall have to let you +return home this week. Unless," she added, "you can get something else +to do." + +"I must. I will. To return home now would be to admit defeat. I'll never +do that. And we're all so dreadfully poor. I haven't any right to impose +myself on them, now that I've commenced to earn my own living." + +"Perhaps the doctor can suggest another position for you, child," said +Mrs. Kilpatrick. + +"Perhaps. Anyway, I must make my own living," declared Martha, with +conviction. "Other girls are doing it; I ought to be able to. I'll go +to New York or Chicago or some other big city, and I'll work at--at +something or other," she concluded, rather lamely. + +Mrs. Kilpatrick smiled indulgently at her earnestness. + +"That's the proper spirit, my child," she said. "I'm sure something will +turn up." + +Martha gazed out through the trees, for at that moment the lumbering old +stage-coach came driving up from the little railroad station at the foot +of the hill, with a part of several carloads of visitors who had come on +the afternoon train from the North. She was still thinking rather +dismally of this sudden change in her future when a bell-boy brought a +card to Mrs. Kilpatrick. + +"I forgot to tell you, Martha," broke in the latter, glancing at the +card. "I was expecting a Mr. Clayton from New York. He is a well-known +collector of curios and is coming 'way out here very largely to look at +my collection of scarabs. I feel a little tired now. Won't you see him +for me, Martha, and show him the collection?" + +"Of course, Mrs. Kilpatrick." + +"Show Mr. Clayton here, please," she said to the boy, "and ask him to +wait." Then, as the boy departed, the invalid turned wearily to Martha: +"Take me to my room now, dear, then you can come back with the scarabs." + +George Clayton's thirty-three years sat lightly upon his shoulders, +though a close observer would have noticed that his clean-shaven face +was tanned a trifle more than one would expect, and one might likewise +have expressed surprise to find a slight suggestion of gray around the +edges of his slightly curly hair. The athletic build of his shoulders +and the erect bearing indicated that, while he might not be "the hope of +the white race" from a pugilistic standpoint, he was amply able to take +care of himself in any emergency. + +Clayton's visit to the Springs was two-fold. He needed a rest, for in +the course of a law practice which had developed amazingly in the past +seven years, he had overworked. The only recreations he had enjoyed had +been temporary, the persistent pursuit of a number of fads. Though not +wealthy, his unusual success at law had produced an income more than +sufficient for his needs, and the surplus had been used from time to +time in developing the latter. Just now one of these happened to be +Egyptian scarabs, and the well-known collection of Mrs. Kilpatrick +having been called to his attention, he had decided to take a vacation +and look at them. + +"Are you Mr. Clayton?" + +A slender, girlish figure, clasping a large leather case, stood before +him, and, as he smiled an assent and bowed, extended her hand in cordial +greeting. + +"Pardon me--I expected to see Mrs. Kilpatrick," said Clayton. + +"I am sorry to say she is not well," said Martha. "I am her companion, +Miss Farnum." + +Clayton bowed again and murmured something unintelligible. + +"Mrs. Kilpatrick asked me to show you the scarabs. Afterwards you can +tell her what you think of them." + +"I shall be glad to do so. I shall probably envy them." + +"Mrs. Kilpatrick tells me you are quite a collector." + +"Yes," answered Clayton, slowly. "I have collected almost everything in +my time, except money." + +"It must be interesting," said Martha naively, sitting in one of the +easy rockers and opening the case, while Clayton drew his chair +alongside. + +"First it was postage stamps," explained Clayton, picking up one of the +queer little beetles and examining it intently. "But postage stamps +soon proved tiresome. Then came Indian relics, but they lost favor when +I took up antique weapons of war. Then I went in for emeralds and +jewels, but they proved too expensive. I think I have had twenty fads in +the last ten years." + +"But your business--hasn't that suffered?" Martha smiled. + +"Not a particle. I've had a glorious time, and my clients who knew of my +fads thought all the more of me because they fancied I must be a brainy +chap to have them." He laughed. + +"It must be wonderful to do as one pleases," mused Martha, gazing out +among the trees. + +Clayton laughed again. + +"Even that gets tiresome," he said. "The girl in the candy shop never +wants a caramel after the third day. Everything grows tiresome after a +while. Now that I've exhausted my list of fads, a horrible future +confronts me--thirty-three years of age, enough money to supply my +needs, and no new fad on which to waste the surplus. What am I to do?" + +"There's always the Salvation Army," laughed Martha. + +"Yes, or the Anti-Cigarette Society," he responded lightly. + +A porter carrying two large suit-cases, each covered with many foreign +labels, crossed the veranda toward the waiting 'bus at the foot of the +steps. Another man, evidently a valet, followed with more luggage, and +then a tall, distinguished-looking man of uncertain age emerged from the +hotel. He gazed curiously at Martha, but his eyes lighted up with +recognition when they fell upon Clayton. + +"Hello, Clayton, what are you doing here?" he inquired loudly. + +Clayton looked up with just a shadow of annoyance, but, with the +well-bred air of a gentleman, rose and extended his hand. + +"How are you, Gordon?" he said easily. "I haven't seen you since the +Compton breach of promise case." + +Gordon winced at the reminder, but gave utterance to a forced laugh. + +"You toasted me to a turn that time," he admitted. "Do you know, +Clayton, ever since you had me on the witness stand, I've been wanting +to engage you to handle my own business." + +"Thank you," replied Clayton, coldly. "But I don't care for your kind of +business." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I prefer the kind where there is never a woman in the case." + +Gordon laughed again uneasily. + +"I can't help it every time a girl takes me seriously. I offered to +settle handsomely then, but like all these women, they think because I'm +rich I am an easy mark. Now, if you'll see me in New York--maybe we can +come to terms." + +"I fancy not," replied Clayton, briefly. + +Gordon's eyes, even during this brief conversation, had never left +Martha, whose attention was given to her scarabs. + +"Deuced pretty girl!" remarked Gordon, quietly, to Clayton. "You might +introduce me." + +"Are you leaving the hotel?" + +"Yes--in a few minutes." + +"Then I've no objection. Miss Farnum, may I present Mr. Sanford Gordon, +of New York?" + +"Charmed to meet you, Miss Farnum," cried Gordon, extending his hand as +Martha merely bowed. "Sorry I'm leaving the hotel just when I meet the +only interesting person here." Then, aside to Clayton as he bowed to +Martha and passed out of earshot: "Who is she?" + +Clayton coughed ominously. + +"She is the companion of a Mrs. Kilpatrick." + +Gordon's face showed his disappointment. + +"Oh, I say," he murmured. "A paid companion? Anyhow, she's deuced +good-looking." He glanced back at Martha, then turned. "See you in New +York, Clayton, and don't forget my offer." + +"I didn't care to introduce him to you, Miss Farnum," explained Clayton, +after Gordon had driven away in the 'bus. "He's not the sort of man I +should care to have any girl know well." + +"Oh, it's of no consequence," laughed Martha. "I have heard of him. The +Sunday papers have printed lots of stories about his little attentions +to actresses. He's been with that English actress here most of the +time." + +"He generally is with some kind of an actress," admitted Clayton. + +"Mrs. Dainton, I mean. Is she such a great actress?" + +"Well," sparred Clayton, carefully examining another scarab, "opinions +differ as to her greatness." + +"But she must make an awful lot of money," insisted Martha. + +"She _spends_ an awful lot." + +"Isn't that the same thing?" + +"Not always. You have to get the money before you can spend it." + +"Then she has another income, like Mrs. Kilpatrick, I suppose?" + +"She probably has another income, only it's not quite the same. In +fact--But I don't think we had better worry about her, Miss Farnum." + +"But I'm interested. Perhaps--why, perhaps I might go on the stage +myself, some day," added Martha, suddenly, as an afterthought. + +"You go on the stage?" laughed Clayton. "Nonsense!" + +"I don't see why it is nonsense," cried Martha, rising to her feet so +suddenly that Clayton had only time to grasp the case of precious +scarabs in time to save them from a fall. "I must do something, and from +what I have seen of theatrical people here at this hotel, they all have +plenty of money. Even that Miss Forsythe, who dresses so loudly, earns a +lot." + +Clayton leaned back in his chair and laughed. + +"My dear child," he tried to explain, "I know the girl you mean. She's a +show-girl in New York. I saw her at the station just now when my train +arrived. To see her in that elaborate costume, you wouldn't believe that +her salary is just twenty dollars a week, would you?" + +"Twenty dollars a week?" + +"Yes. She's in the chorus." + +"But how can she afford to stay at this hotel on such a salary?" + +At that Clayton coughed and began to sort out the scarabs. + +"She probably also has an--er--independent source of income," he +stammered. + +"Could I get twenty dollars a week on the stage?" inquired Martha, +thoughtfully, not noticing his confusion. + +"Very likely, if you are willing to start in the chorus," replied +Clayton. + +Martha clenched her fists with determination. + +"Why, I'd start at the very bottom; I'd work like anything, to succeed," +she said tensely. + +Clayton closed the case and rose to his feet. + +"Really, Miss Farnum, I didn't know you were so much in earnest about +it," he explained. + +"You see, my service with Mrs. Kilpatrick ends in a few days," said +Martha, simply. "She is going to Italy, and there is nothing left for me +to do but return home, and our people are too poor and I must earn a +living to help them." + +"So you really want to go on the stage?" said Clayton, thoughtfully. "I +wouldn't advise it. There are too many dangers, too many temptations." + +"Do you think I care for the dangers?" cried Martha, almost +contemptuously. "All of the temptations are not on the stage. The +department stores, the shops, the offices--why not think of them? Girls +work there, hundreds and thousands of them. But the moment a girl +mentions the stage, some one cries out about the temptations. It's +absurd." + +The fiery outburst of the young girl startled Clayton, who realized that +in an argument on this theme he was likely to be worsted. Moreover, he +was placed in the unenviable position of being obliged to argue against +a course which he felt sure would be disastrous, or at least difficult, +while during their short talk he had grown to be genuinely interested in +Martha. Like a prudent general, he sought safety in retreat. + +"About these scarabs," he began, "I should like to speak to Mrs. +Kilpatrick." + +Martha's thoughts, however, so suddenly directed to a new channel, were +difficult to concentrate on anything so mundane as scarabs. It was +several seconds before she recollected herself and answered his +question: + +"Oh, yes," she repeated. "Mrs. Kilpatrick is in parlor A. She said she +would be glad to see you a little later." + +Clayton bowed. "And I won't say farewell," he said, "as I'll surely see +you at dinner." + +"The stage," repeated Martha, dreamily, after he had gone, sinking into +one of the large chairs and placing both hands to her throbbing temples. +"The stage. Why not? Why not?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A GLIMPSE INTO THE PAST + + +"This is the sun parlor, Pinkie," cried Flossie, ushering in the girl +who had just found a haven of refuge and a sanctuary for the penniless +at the Springs. "My word, but we do put on style at this rest-cure. I'm +having the time of my young life." + +Pinkie Lexington gazed around her, and sighed with relief. The +well-dressed women in the distance made her instinctively think of her +own somewhat bedraggled tailor-made suit, badly wrinkled from the train +journey. Even at its best, it suggested the "Take me home for $12.99" +signs of the bargain counters. Furthermore, Pinkie's hat was of the +early spring vintage, and the ribbon was faded. Her pride and her glory +had always been her hair, large blond masses of which protruded from +beneath the rim of her straw hat, but a visit to a hair-dresser was a +luxury Pinkie had not known in months. Added to this, Pinkie had become +unusually heavy--and therefore always in need of the most perfect +grooming in order to keep up appearances--and it may be easily +understood that she was not appearing to the best advantage. This fact +Flossie had noticed with keen inward delight, for her own smartness and +prettiness naturally took on added luster when placed in contrast with +poor Pinkie's poverty. + +But Pinkie sighed with contentment. Notwithstanding a few personal +deficiencies of dress and adornment, it was a relief to be in a hotel +where one could be assured of three excellent meals a day. + +"It's grand to be in a real place after those awful one-night stands," +sighed Pinkie. "But I'm afraid I won't really enjoy it--I'm on a diet." + +"What?" inquired Flossie. + +"I'm reducing," insisted Pinkie, sadly. + +"Why didn't you go on a diet last week when you were broke?" demanded +Flossie. "Now, you are here as my guest, and if you don't eat I'll be +insulted. Just wait until I introduce you to Mr. Zinsheimer." + +"I'm just dying to meet him," said Pinkie, demurely. "_Feathers_, isn't +it?" + +"One of the biggest importers in New York," said Flossie, proudly. "He's +a real gentleman. Nothing but wine." + +"I know I shall like him," repeated Pinkie. + +Flossie peered at her chum suspiciously, and then laughed. + +"Well, don't like him too much. I saw him first." + +Pinkie's large eyes almost filled with tears. + +"Why, Flossie, how can you? I'm sure I don't want to steal your +gentleman friend." + +Flossie put her arm affectionately around Pinkie's somewhat large waist +and laughed. + +"Never mind, dear, I was only joking. Of course you know it is +understood that Mr. Zinsheimer and I are to get married as soon as my +lawsuit is settled." + +Zinsheimer himself entered at this juncture, and Pinkie was formally +introduced to the generous feather importer. She started to cry as he +patted her hand cordially, holding it just a trifle longer than was +absolutely necessary, and thereby eliciting a warning look from the +alert Flossie. + +"Oh, Mr. Zinsheimer, it's such a relief to meet a real gentleman," cried +Pinkie, half in tears. "Honestly, I could almost hug you for your +kindness to a poor little shipwrecked, stranded girl. I am so helpless +and alone." + +"There, there, now, don't cry," protested "Marky." "Your Uncle Marky +will see that you don't go hungry this trip." + +At this point Flossie dexterously inserted herself between the couple +and coughed until "Marky" let Pinkie's hand drop. + +"Didn't I say you'd like him, Pinkie?" she observed sharply. + +"Let's go over and play roulette," suggested Zinsheimer. "Maybe we can +win enough to get Pinkie a new outfit, eh?" And he looked doubtfully +over the somewhat worn suit which was poor Pinkie's only possession. + +At that Pinkie sobbed audibly. "I'm sorry to disgrace you," she wailed, +"but the horrid manager of the hotel in Indianapolis wouldn't let me +take my trunk until I paid him seventeen dollars and forty-five cents. +And where could I get all that money?" + +Zinsheimer patted her hand encouragingly. "Come over to the Casino," he +whispered. "We'll try our luck at the wheel." And with Flossie clinging +to his right arm and Pinkie to his left, the genial feather importer +started toward the Casino. At the head of the stairway the trio almost +collided with Mrs. Dainton's footman, who was carrying the Pomeranian. +Close behind came Mrs. Dainton herself, her maids, and her manager. +Zinsheimer whispered to the girls quickly. + +"That's the English actress," he said quietly. "I once knew her, but we +don't speak now as we pass by. Let's be real supercilious." + +So, as Zinsheimer and the girls passed by ostentatiously, Pinkie and +Flossie, taking their cue, broke forth into peals of merry laughter, +while Zinsheimer so guided the party that Mrs. Dainton had to step to +one side to avoid Flossie's rattling chatelaines. + +Mrs. Dainton sank into an easy-chair, and Victor hurriedly adjusted the +cushions for her comfort. + +"I beg Madame's pardon, but when shall we leave?" inquired the +obsequious personal manager. + +"I don't expect to leave at all," replied Mrs. Dainton, sharply. + +Anxious to get her back to New York, Mrs. Dainton's manager hoped this +last annoyance would move her. + +"But the rehearsals for your new play," he said. + +"Wire the New York management to send the company out here. We will +rehearse here." + +Weldon could not refrain from an audible expression of despair, being +for a moment dumbfounded at the thought of the expense. Neither Mrs. +Dainton nor her manager noticed that a young girl in a simple black +gown, who had evidently been searching for a magazine left in one of the +chairs, had heard what they said. + +"But if the players don't suit--" expostulated Weldon. + +"Send them back to New York and get another lot." + +"But that will be very expensive." + +"What of that?" inquired Mrs. Dainton, languidly. "It's not my money." + +Weldon hesitated and then bowed. + +"Just as you say, Madame," he said weakly. "I will wire the New York +management." And scarcely able to conceal his indignation at this latest +whim, Weldon withdrew to telegraph their New York backers the full +details of her latest eccentricity. + +Martha Farnum, still holding the magazine she had recovered, hesitated. +Then, struck by a sudden thought, she came forward timidly to the famous +actress. + +"May I--may I speak to you just for a moment?" she asked nervously. + +Mrs. Dainton turned in surprise, looked her over carefully from head to +foot, and asked carelessly: "Who are you?" + +"My name is Martha Farnum, and--" + +"Well?" + +"I heard you just now--" + +"It isn't a nice thing to listen." + +"But I couldn't help it--" + +"You mean I spoke so loudly?" + +"No--but you spoke so distinctly--" + +Mrs. Dainton smiled with pleasure. "The critics always said my voice +carried well, and that my enunciation was perfect," she said, flattered. +"Well, what can I do for you, my dear?" + +Martha hesitated and stammered. "I--I am anxious to go on the stage," +she faltered. + +"What can you do?" inquired Mrs. Dainton. + +"I cannot tell until I have tried," confessed Martha. + +"You mean you have had no experience? I'm sorry, but I've made it a rule +never to give any young girl her first engagement on the stage." + +"But why?" gasped Martha. + +"Because I don't approve of their going on the stage." + +"Yet you yourself have won success," argued Martha. "And you must have +started some time." + +Motioning Martha to bring a chair and sit beside her, Mrs. Dainton +leaned forward impulsively and took her hands in her own. + +"You don't know all that my success has cost me, my dear," she said +simply. "Success is a wonderful thing, but the road to it is paved with +temptations." + +"I know all that, but surely there must be some way to overcome the +obstacles," insisted Martha. + +"I once thought the same," mused Mrs. Dainton, with a far-away look in +her eyes. "But there came a time when I hated myself, and all the world. +Shall I tell you a story, my dear?" + +"I would love to hear it," replied Martha, earnestly, gazing into the +eyes of the elder woman. + +"Once there was another girl, like you: young, ambitious, innocent," +began Mrs. Dainton, softly. "She, too, was poor and wretched. But some +people called her handsome. As so many others have done under similar +circumstances, she turned toward the stage. She commenced at the very +bottom in the chorus of a London musical production. The company she was +with came to America, and little by little she progressed, but oh, it +was such hard work and the poverty was so grinding. Her salary was +almost nothing. Soon, in this strange country, she was in debt. The +landlady of her boarding-house was kind for a week or so, but the girl +was hopelessly involved. Then, one day, a note came to the theater. She +opened it, and found inside--a hundred-dollar bill." + +"A hundred-dollar bill?" repeated Martha, wonderingly. + +"Yes, without a word of explanation. The girl didn't know what to do +with the money. She could not return it. She finally spent it." + +"A hundred dollars!" repeated Martha. + +"A few nights later came another note. Another hundred-dollar bill. A +third and a fourth followed. Flowers, diamonds, a love-letter, and last +of all--a man." + +"A man?" repeated Martha, curiously. + +"The man had a fortune. The girl was penniless. She couldn't repay the +money, for she had spent it. The man was kind, courteous, +good-looking--in short, just the kind of man to win a girl's heart." + +"And so they were married?" ventured Martha. + +"No, my dear." Mrs. Dainton shook her head sadly. "They did not marry. +He gave her everything money could buy, and she, poor fool, accepted it. +When the inevitable happened, when the man left her without a word of +farewell, she reaped the bitterness she had sown. But the experience +gave her renewed energy. She was determined to triumph in spite of it. +And she did. She succeeded. Years afterward she met that man again. She +saw him humble himself a second time before her feet and beg her love +in vain." + +"That was splendid," cried Martha, clasping her hands. + +"It was the only punishment she could inflict," added Mrs. Dainton, +bitterly, rising to her feet and beckoning to her maid. "He had made her +suffer deeply, and though she had been proud of her success, the +proudest moment of her life was when she publicly humiliated the man who +had deceived and wronged her in the past." + +Martha rose to her feet, and held out her hand in sympathy. + +"I am so sorry, Mrs. Dainton," she said simply. + +"Sorry, my dear child?" repeated Mrs. Dainton, cheerfully. "Why need you +be? That was what happened to a friend of mine, and that's why I will +not help you or any one else to go on the stage." + +"But surely," cried Martha, desperately, "some people succeed without +pain and unhappiness?" + +Mrs. Dainton kissed the girl affectionately. + +"You are young, and like all young people, you flatter yourself that you +will be the exception," she said. "Good-bye, my dear. I dare say all my +advice will be wasted, for if it is in the blood, if you have the call +of the footlights in your soul and the fire of ambition in your heart, +nothing can stop you in your career; neither the advice of an old woman +nor the experience of others. Good-bye, my dear. Au revoir." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +STRICTLY A BUSINESS BARGAIN + + +Clayton found Martha in a corner of the veranda ten minutes later, in a +brown study. + +"Here, this will never do," he began cheerfully. "Is it as bad as that?" + +Martha looked up with an attempt at cheerfulness. + +"It is of no consequence," she said simply. "You wouldn't understand." + +"Am I so dense as all that?" he protested. "Any one with half an eye +could see that you are in trouble, and I'd like to help if I can be of +any assistance." + +Martha looked up at the lawyer hopefully. "Mr. Clayton," she said, "Mrs. +Kilpatrick says you are from New York. I've never been there. A few +moments ago I said I wanted to go on the stage, and you laughed at me. +Now, may I ask you seriously for your advice, and will you give me a +serious answer?" + +Clayton sat down by her side. "Fire away," he commanded. + +"In the first place, I have firmly decided to go on the stage," +explained Martha. "I have great ambition, I have been told that I read +well, and I must make a living somehow. That settled, the only problem +is the way to go at it. Will you advise me?" + +"But you are not cut out for that sort of life," protested Clayton. +"You--you should marry--you'll find more real happiness there." + +"Have you done that?" inquired Martha. + +"That's different. I'm a man." + +"Oh, yes, and being one, you think we women can't get along without +you." + +"No one can live happily without love." + +"If you have success, you don't need love," insisted Martha. + +"My dear child," Clayton tried to explain, "the greatest success means +nothing if the right person does not share it with you." + +Martha rose to her feet proudly. + +"I will risk its meaning nothing if I can only have it." + +"Do you mean that?" inquired Clayton, looking at her. + +"Yes." + +"And you have made up your mind that you must have a career?" + +"Absolutely." + +Clayton half laughed at her earnestness. + +"Have you any money?" he asked suddenly. + +"No," admitted Martha, reluctantly. "That is, not much." + +"Then how will you begin?" + +"I don't know." + +"You will find money very necessary." + +"I'll manage somehow," declared Martha, with conviction. + +Clayton gazed at her curiously for a few moments. Something about the +girl must have struck him as being distinctly out of the ordinary. Twice +he started to speak, but each time hesitated as though uncertain what to +say. "I've got an idea," he blurted out finally. + +Martha turned toward him inquiringly, but did not speak. + +"I'll assist you," explained Clayton. "Suppose I lend you the necessary +capital for you to go to New York and live until you meet with this +success you are determined shall come to you?" + +"Oh, but I couldn't let you do that," protested Martha. "People might +talk, and anyhow, I am determined to succeed on my merits, if at all." + +"Wait," interrupted Clayton. "This is a cold-blooded business +proposition. If a man opens a store, he must have capital to start with. +If a miner goes prospecting, he must have some one 'grub-stake' him to +start--that is, give him food and money to last until he strikes pay +dirt. In any venture it is the same; capital is necessary--why not let +me capitalize yours? After you succeed, you can pay back the original +investment, with regular business interest." + +"But if I fail--you have no security." + +"That's my risk. Besides, I've another reason. I have spent enough on +the different fads I've had to send a dozen girls through college. I've +wasted thousands of dollars collecting useless things like old postage +stamps and antiques, but never once has it occurred to me to collect +samples of character." + +"I don't quite understand." Martha's eyes were wide open in amazement. + +"Your attitude toward success interests me." + +"I'm sure it is justified," insisted Martha. + +"That remains to be seen. It is understood that I will start you on +this career purely as a business proposition. But if I am to furnish the +money, I must have the controlling interest in the partnership. You are +to be absolutely guided by what I say, to be responsible to me, and to +follow my advice in all things." + +"Won't I even have a minority vote?" pouted Martha. + +"Yes, but the presiding officer can overrule you any time he wishes. In +other words, I shall be practically your--your--" + +"What?" + +"Your guardian. But remember--if I start you on this life where you will +be plunged at once into the vortex of all that is fascinating and +attractive, you will perhaps find many admirers. No dragging Love along +with Success if we should meet him on the way." + +Martha clapped her hands gleefully. + +"I shall be too busy cultivating Success to even recognize Love if I +should meet him," she cried gaily. + +"Good. Then it's down with Love?" + +"Yes," responded Martha. "And up with Success." + +"Then that's settled," responded Clayton, in a businesslike tone, +looking at his watch. "And now I think we'd better get some dinner." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"WHERE EVERYTHING IS HOMELIKE" + + +"If there's one thing I'm proud of about my boarding-house," insisted +Mrs. Anderson, when discussing the _pension_ for vagrant Thespians which +she had conducted for many years, "it's the homelike atmosphere. Makes +folks feel at home right away, the moment they set foot in my parlor." + +Mrs. Anderson, commonly called "Aunt Jane" by the professional patrons +who came back to her hospitable roof year after year, was justly proud +of the affection and esteem in which she was obviously held. A motherly +old lady of not less than fifty, a widow with no children, Mrs. Anderson +devoted her entire time to maintaining an establishment which should be +unique. Actors as a rule dread boarding-houses. There is something about +such institutions which instinctively causes a chill of apprehension to +run up and down their backs. Especially is this true of boarding-houses +which advertise that they cater to the theatrical profession. But the +instant image of cheapness, squalor, ill-kept rooms and badly cooked +food, which is conjured up by the mere mention of "theatrical +boarding-house," has no relation to Aunt Jane's. + +Hers was different. It is hard to tell how, but when once a visitor +entered her front parlor it seemed different from all the rest. +Old-fashioned in some respects, it was strictly up to date in others. +There was no red table-cloth on the table, no gilt-framed chromos on +wooden easels, no landscapes in glaring colors on the walls. Instead, on +the piano, on the mantel, and even on the walls, one found neatly framed +photos of theatrical celebrities, which, as one could see upon close +examination, were autographed, with here and there a few homely +sentiments of good wishes "To Dear Aunt Jane." + +Mrs. Anderson's establishment, in fact, was one of the last of a fast +disappearing type of boarding-house, the extinction of which will never +be regretted in spite of the natural sorrow at the passing of a home +with so many virtues as that presided over by the estimable "Aunt Jane." +But modern apartment hotels, in which excellent accommodations can be +had for the same price one formerly gave for a hall bedroom, are +numbering the days of the old brownstone front boarding-houses in the +neighborhood of the New York theatrical district. Mrs. Anderson's was +but a stone's throw from Broadway, in a house which had once been a +feature of the social life of the city; but day after day now, the grim +sound of exploding dynamite in neighboring streets came as a warning +that modern skyscrapers and steel buildings were gradually supplanting +the older structures. + +For twenty-three years Mrs. Anderson had conducted her homelike +establishment. As keenly alert to business now as formerly, Mrs. +Anderson was careful not to let her house deteriorate. Which explains +why, on a certain Saturday afternoon in mid-winter, she was busily +engaged in personally superintending the rearrangement of the parlor +furniture and the placing of certain photographs on the mantel and the +piano. Lizzie, the maid of all work, entered with a card, for Mrs. +Anderson had been so absorbed in her work that she had not heard the +bell ring. + +"Arthur Mortimer, leading juve_nile_," read Lizzie, as Mrs. Anderson +turned toward her. "He's in the hall. Say, what's a juve_nile_?" + +"Refers to the kind of work he does," responded Mrs. Anderson, sharply. + +"Work?" repeated Lizzie, astounded. "Why, he's an actor." + +The unconscious sarcasm of the remark was passed unnoticed by Mrs. +Anderson. + +Mr. Mortimer turned out to be a pleasing young chap, smartly but not +expensively dressed, about twenty-two years of age, and very nervous. He +twirled his derby in his hands, and seemed quite embarrassed when Mrs. +Anderson beamed a cordial welcome upon him. + +"I--I am looking for a room," began Mortimer. "I was referred to you." + +"Are you in the profession?" inquired Aunt Jane, motioning toward a +comfortable arm-chair. + +"I graduated last June from the dramatic school, but I haven't done much +yet. I couldn't afford expensive rooms--" + +"That's all right, Mr. Mortimer," interrupted Aunt Jane. "I like to have +beginners. They pay their bills. And I only want refined people who +behave themselves. Of course a little impromptu frivolity makes every +one feel at home, and if there's one thing I always try to do, it is to +make my house homelike." + +"I'm sure it is that." + +"Yes, sir. A real home, especially for the lonely young girls I have +living with me here. Why, I have one young lady staying here now who is +under my _special_ protection. The gentleman who sent her to me said he +knew of my reputation, and that he wanted me to be a _real mother_ to +her." + +"I hope I may be admitted into this happy family," ventured Mortimer, +smiling. + +"I'm so proud of his trust in me," continued Aunt Jane, evidently +started on a pet theme, "that I never let that girl out of my +sight--except, of course, when she's at the theater. And I have to +telephone him every day and tell him what she's doing. But how I run +on--here's Lizzie, who will show you some of the rooms. Did you want a +big room or a small room?" + +"That depends on the price," stammered Mortimer, rising. + +Lizzie had handed Mrs. Anderson a telegram, and stood waiting for +instructions. + +"Lizzie, show Mr. Mortimer the vacant rooms on the third and fourth +floors front," directed Aunt Jane, tearing open the dispatch. "Oh, by +the way, Mr. Mortimer, do you happen to have a photograph you can let me +have?" + +"My photograph?" repeated Mortimer, surprised and flattered. "I have +some in my trunk." + +"If you come with us I'll want to include yours in my collection of +famous actors," explained Aunt Jane. + +"But I'm not famous--" protested Mortimer. + +"Never mind--you will be some day. You see all these photographs of +celebrities"--she waved her hand--"all of these people are with me now, +except Maude Adams, Ethel Barrymore and one or two others. Somewhere in +this house I have a photograph of every actor or actress who ever stayed +here. Fifteen years and more I've kept them. Many a famous star of +to-day gave me a photograph years ago, when only an unknown lodger in my +happy little home." + +"I'll sure bring you one," cried the delighted Mortimer. As he started +toward the hall, with Lizzie as his guide, Mrs. Anderson called after +them: + +"One moment, Lizzie," she cried, holding the telegram. "Mr. Lawrence is +coming from Boston this evening and wants his old room. Be sure and have +it ready." + +"Yes, ma'am," responded the ubiquitous Lizzie. + +"And just a moment," continued Mrs. Anderson, in a confidential tone, +beckoning to the slavey. "Go up to the garret and get me that large +picture of Mr. Lawrence we had on the piano last time he was here." + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Here, take this one with you," added Aunt Jane, craftily, picking up a +photograph of a blond man with curly hair. "It's Jimmy Carlton--he's +gone to California and won't be back until spring. Put this one away +with the others. And see that Mr. Lawrence's picture is nicely dusted. I +want him to feel at home when he comes in and sees it on the piano." + +Mortimer, who was busily looking at the photographs, suddenly saw one he +recognized. + +"Isn't that Flossie Forsythe?" he inquired. + +"The very same," answered Mrs. Anderson. "She's staying here, too--she +and her chum, Miss Lexington. Lizzie, show Mr. Mortimer the house--and +Lizzie," she added confidentially, "recommend the fourth floor front. It +ain't no more, but the bath always rents the third easier." + +Half a moment later, with Lizzie on the fourth floor, the bell rang +again and this time Mrs. Anderson herself was compelled to answer it. A +messenger boy with a large box of flowers stepped into the hallway. Mrs. +Anderson took the box and looked at the card. + +"For Miss Farnum?" she sniffed. "Humph! This is the third time since +Sunday she's had flowers from somewhere. Who sent them, boy?" + +The snub-nosed Mercury gazed up at her and winked. + +"How d'je t'ink I knows de guy's name?" he retorted. + +"Impudent!" replied Aunt Jane. + +"An' say, lady, I got a note also for Miss--Miss Farnum." + +"Give it to me, then, you young rascal." + +"Nixey." The boy shook his head and winked again. "Told me to give it to +Miss Farnum 'erself." + +"But I can give it to her." + +"Maybe my eye's green, too," answered the messenger. "De gent who give +me dis said give it only to her. If she ain't in, I got to come back +when she is." + +"Miss Farnum is not in," declared Aunt Jane, indignantly. "And you're a +rude, disrespectful boy, to speak so to your elders." + +"Well, say, when will her nibs get back?" + +"In about half an hour," retorted Aunt Jane, slamming the door on him +and taking the box into the parlor. Once there, she peered curiously at +the box. It was only an ordinary florist's box, but a big one, and it +evidently contained costly, long-stemmed American Beauties. There was a +small note attached to the box, with the name "Martha Farnum" on the +envelope. + +Mrs. Anderson debated about five seconds whether or not it was her duty +to examine the note. Of course she had no right to look, but she +concluded that her position as Martha's temporary guardian demanded that +she examine carefully anything that would throw light upon the person +who was sending so many flowers to her young charge. + +"There's a card inside, sure, and perhaps a name," she argued, with easy +sophistry. "It's my duty to look. Some young spark is trying to make +love to Martha under my very nose." + +She nervously tore off the envelope, opened it and took out a card. She +read it and threw up her hands in disappointment. The card was blank, +except for the written words: "From your unknown admirer." + +"Hello! Blooms! For me?" cried Flossie Forsythe, resplendent in furs and +a large picture-hat, bursting into the room just as Mrs. Anderson +replaced the card. "Pinkie, look at the flowers some one sent me," she +added, turning to summon the sad-eyed Miss Lexington, who still appeared +dejected and deserted as she stood in the doorway, last season's +walking-suit hanging unevenly from her highly developed figure and +appearing a trifle tight in certain spots. + +"I suppose Marky sent them," said Pinkie, dropping upon the sofa in +disgust. "I wish some guy would slip me a beef-steak over the footlights +some time instead of flowers." + +Mrs. Anderson politely but firmly rescued the flowers from Flossie's +clutches. + +"For Miss Farnum," she said coldly, taking the box to the piano out of +harm's way. + +"What rot," ejaculated Flossie. "I never seen a girl get so many +flowers." + +Pinkie sighed. "I haven't had an orchid this season," she said sadly. + +"Never mind, dear," cried Flossie, sinking onto the sofa by her side. +"Wait until the new show goes on, and we both make hits. You'll be +covered with flowers." + +"It will take some flowers to cover me," responded Pinkie, surveying her +ample girth with regret. "But what gets me, is how Martha Farnum wins +out with the boobs who send her flowers. Why, she ain't got no style. +And she's only a beginner in the chorus, too." + +"But they do say she's made the biggest hit ever known in the Casino +since I left last spring," drawled Flossie, carelessly. + +"Pity you didn't stay, dear," smiled Pinkie. "But then, of course, you +weren't in the chorus." + +"I should say not," cried Flossie, indignantly. "I haven't been in any +chorus for two years. It's sextettes or nothing with me hereafter, and +you know I don't have to work." + +"How's your lawsuit coming on?" inquired Pinkie, innocently. + +"Oh, the lawyers are still fighting." + +"Where is this lawsuit, anyhow?" + +"Oh, somewhere out in British Columbia. You wouldn't know the name of +the town if I told you. If I win, I am going to star in musical comedy." + +"And if you lose?" + +[Illustration: "I HAVN'T HAD AN ORCHID THIS SEASON."] + +"Back to the sextette, I guess, unless Mr. Zinsheimer will star me." + +"Where is 'Feathers'?" yawned Pinkie. "Haven't seen him for a week." + +"Never you mind where he is," retorted Flossie, suddenly turning to her +chum, suspiciously. "You've been askin' too many questions about Mr. +Zinsheimer lately. Don't you be ungrateful. Remember all I did for you." + +Pinkie almost cried at this unjust insinuation. "Why, Flossie," she half +sobbed, "I don't want Marky. The idea of thinking I'd want to steal him +away from my dearest friend." + +As Flossie consoled Pinkie and apologized, Mrs. Anderson approached a +delicate subject nervously but with a determination strengthened by the +memory of many similar occasions. "Young ladies," she began, "I hope you +haven't forgotten about our little account." + +"It shall be settled this evening, without fail," replied Flossie, +rising haughtily. "I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you, but you +shall have a check after dinner." + +"You know I am perfectly willing to let the bills run on," explained +Mrs. Anderson, with that ever-present doubt that one always has in +dunning delinquents, "but neither of you young ladies has been trying to +get a position." + +"Not trying, indeed," repeated Pinkie. "We go to the managers' offices +every day, but the horrid brutes will not see us." + +"But look at Miss Farnum," said Aunt Jane. "She came here without +experience, and secured an engagement instantly." + +"Yes, in the chorus," sneered Flossie. "Fancy us in the chorus," rising +and glancing admiringly at her well-rounded figure. "I want lines." + +"But Martha didn't mind the chorus," cried Mrs. Anderson, warmly. "She +began at the bottom, and if I do say it myself, I am proud of the way +she has succeeded." + +"Succeeded?" repeated Flossie. "I guess she has, if you judge by the +number of times messenger boys bring her notes and flowers and presents. +I'll bet there's a diamond tiara hidden in those flowers now." She moved +toward the box, picked it up curiously, and lifted the top. "American +Beauties, eh?" she added. "I counted the number of messenger boys who +came here yesterday to see Martha, and how many do you think there were? +Seven." + +"I half believe she sends the things to herself," pouted Pinkie, +maliciously. + +"She couldn't, my dear, on eighteen dollars a week in the chorus," +laughed Flossie. "There's no use talking, Aunt Jane--Martha may have +been a little wild-flower when she blew into New York from the woods of +Indiana or Ohio or wherever it was, but one thing you must give her +credit for: some one must be awfully stuck on her." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A HUNDRED-DOLLAR BILL + + +Martha walked home from the theater. It was after the matinee, in early +winter, the period of the year when upper Broadway is the most wonderful +street in all the world. Crowds of smartly dressed women and +well-groomed men surged to and fro; taxicabs and private limousines +darted in every direction; the clanging of the gongs of the street-cars +and the shrill cries of newsboys added to the general confusion; and the +lights of a thousand electric signs glared brilliantly in the +semi-darkness of early nightfall. Shop windows tempted the passer-by +most alluringly, and Martha gazed longingly into many of them, but shook +her head resolutely at the mere notion of purchasing anything. This was +New York. This was life. At last she, Martha Farnum, an insignificant +atom from a remote country town, was on Broadway, actually a part of +Broadway life, for she was the second girl from the end in the new +Casino production, "The Pet of Paris," and for more than four months now +had been thrilled, fascinated and enthralled by the lure of the stage. + +During all these weeks, she had lived quietly and regularly at Mrs. +Anderson's boarding-house. Clayton had met her at the Grand Central +Station when she arrived in New York and had taken her to the place, +introducing her to Mrs. Anderson in words which she had resented, though +she had realized at the time that he was quite justified in his demands. + +"Miss Farnum will be in your charge," he had explained. "It is +understood that she is to do exactly as you direct in all things. She is +not to accept dinner invitations from any one, she is to come straight +home after each performance, and she is to go nowhere unless you +accompany her." + +These galling restrictions were now, however, beginning to prove +irksome. Youth cannot be chained too tightly without tugging at its +bonds. So it was with Martha after four months of the free-and-easy +associations behind the scenes, where even the best behaved girl will +talk of the little supper at which she was a guest the night before. In +fact, the hard work of rehearsals and the unusual hours which the stage +requires its people to adopt, often made Martha wish that she, too, +could have the freedom and the privileges which the other girls in "The +Pet of Paris" enjoyed. + +Consequently, when she arrived home this particular afternoon and threw +herself into a large easy-chair, utterly tired, and just a little +regretful that she had to dine in the somewhat gloomy, old-fashioned +house, it was not with the greatest pleasure in the world that she +prepared to answer to the usual cross-examination of well-meaning but +sharp-tongued Aunt Jane. + +"Did you come straight home after the matinee?" inquired the latter. + +"Of course," answered Martha, sleepily. "There was such a crowded house. +And so many encores, I am dead tired." + +"You seem much later than usual?" + +"Now, Aunt Jane, don't ask so many questions. It's Martha this and +Martha that and 'Martha, where have you been?' all day long, until I am +beginning to get sick and tired of it." + +"It is all for your own good, and you know whose instructions I am +carrying out." + +"I know," pouted Martha, regretfully. "But don't you think he is a +little unreasonable? How could a bit of supper after the show hurt any +one? Other girls go." + +"Has your 'unknown admirer' been asking you to dine with him?" inquired +Mrs. Anderson, sharply. + +"My 'unknown admirer'?" repeated Martha, blankly. "Whom do you mean?" + +"The one who sent you these flowers," cried Aunt Jane, bringing the box +to Martha, who gazed in surprise at the splendid roses. + +"More flowers, and from a man I have never spoken to," exclaimed Martha, +reading the note. + +At this moment Lizzie opened the door from the hall and entered. + +"If you please, ma'am, that messenger boy is here again," she said. "He +wants to see Miss Farnum herself." + +"It's the boy who brought the flowers," explained Aunt Jane. "He has a +note he won't give to any one but you." + +"How exciting," cried Martha. "Do have him in." + +Messenger No. 109 winked his eye maliciously at Mrs. Anderson, and +tipped his cap respectfully to Martha, whom, from the directions +regarding his note, he evidently deemed a person of some importance. +Martha opened the envelope, and a yellow-backed bill fluttered to the +floor. Mrs. Anderson gasped, Lizzie stared, and the messenger boy +politely picked it up and returned it to Martha. It was a hundred-dollar +bill. + +"Is dere any answer, lady?" inquired 109 stolidly. + +Martha hesitated. She looked at the envelope again, then looked at the +piece of paper which had enclosed the hundred-dollar bill. + +"No," she said simply. "Yes--wait a second." + +The boy paused at the door, and Martha whispered a few words into his +ear. "Do you understand?" she asked. + +"Betcher life," cried 109. "I'm on, lady, I'm on." And with a merry +whistle and another wink at the excited Aunt Jane, 109 made a dignified +and breezy exit, followed by the surprised Lizzie. + +[Illustration: "MORE FLOWERS AND FROM A MAN I HAVE NEVER SPOKEN TO."] + +"Well," said Mrs. Anderson, grimly, sitting with her arms folded, "I'm +waiting." + +"Waiting for what, Aunt Jane?" inquired Martha. + +"For an explanation of this extraordinary scene. Who sent you that +money, and what do you intend to do with it?" + +Martha half laughed at her earnestness. + +"I can't tell you just now, Aunt Jane," she said. + +"But I must know. When Mr. Clayton brought you to me, he asked me to +look out for you, and I mean to do so." + +"And so you have. You've been everything that you could be, dear and +thoughtful, but it's got so I'm the laughing-stock of the entire +company. I daren't take a step out of this house but you must be fully +informed about everything I do and everywhere I go." + +"Mr. Clayton wishes to know." + +"If Mr. Clayton wishes to know, why doesn't he come and ask me? He +hasn't been here more than twice in the past four months. Am I to blame +if I wish some innocent amusement? He never thinks of me, and when some +one else does seem to take an interest in my affairs, and show me a +little attention, am I to blame if I like it?" + +"You are to blame for accepting hundred-dollar bills." + +"But I haven't accepted them yet. I haven't been able to return them +before this--" + +"What? There were others?" + +"For the past six weeks a messenger boy has brought me a note every +Saturday. Each letter contained a hundred-dollar bill." + +"Great heavens!" Aunt Jane collapsed on the sofa. "And wasn't there any +name signed to the letters?" + +"Only the words 'From your unknown admirer.' I could not return the +money, for I didn't know his name--until now. This letter I have just +received gives his name." + +"Who is it, dearie?" inquired Aunt Jane, confidentially, coming to +Martha's side. "Perhaps I know him." + +"His name is--but there, it doesn't matter." Martha turned away and put +both letter and hundred-dollar bill into her handbag. + +"It does matter," cried Aunt Jane, indignation and curiosity battling +for supremacy. "This is a very serious thing. If a strange man sends a +young girl hundreds of dollars, why, he must be crazy about you. Did he +send you anything else?" + +"A few trifles--some jewelry." + +"Has he asked you to marry him?" + +"What nonsense," laughed Martha. "He has only asked me to dinner." + +"You must not go, Martha," said Aunt Jane, decisively. "You know Mr. +Clayton wouldn't like you to take dinner with other gentlemen." + +"Then why doesn't Mr. Clayton take me to dinner himself?" she cried +passionately. + +"Mr. Clayton has other things to do." + +"Then he must not blame me if I dine with some one else." + +"I refuse to let you go, Martha." + +"And how will you keep me, please?" demanded Martha, petulantly, not +because she really desired to break her covenant with her self-appointed +backer, but merely to see what steps he might take if she gave evidence +of breaking her parole. "Will you lock all the doors and keep me a +prisoner?" + +"Never mind," replied Aunt Jane. "Is this unknown admirer coming here to +see you, or did you send him word to meet you on the street corner?" + +"I sent him word to come here," replied Martha, indignantly. "I have no +need to meet him elsewhere. I have nothing to be ashamed of." + +[Illustration: "I REFUSE TO LET YOU GO MARTHA."] + +"Very well, then," retorted Aunt Jane, going toward the library, as the +back parlor was ambitiously named. "I'll telephone Mr. Clayton and say I +wash my hands of you. If he wants to keep an eye on you, he will have to +do it himself after to-night. I'll send for him at once." + +"You'll send for him?" cried Martha, gladly. + +"I'll telephone him to come as fast as a taxi can bring him," declared +Mrs. Anderson. "I guess that will bring you to your senses." + +"I hope it does," murmured Martha, softly, burying her face in the +fragrant flowers. And to herself she added: "I wonder if he'll come?" + +"Come right in, Mr. Zinsheimer," cried the shrill voice of Pinkie +Lexington in the outer hall. "I saw you clear across the street and +hurried down the back way," she continued, leading him into the parlor. +"Flossie has just gone out, but maybe, if you wait, she'll come back +soon." + +"Well, I don't mind if I do," declared Marcus Zinsheimer, shedding his +great fur coat and peering curiously at Martha, who busied herself with +her flowers by the piano. "Who's that?" he added softly. + +"That's Martha Farnum," whispered Pinkie. "She's at the Casino and that +haughty--but I'm going to be friends with her." + +"As though two chorus girls could be friends," interrupted the knowing +"Marky." + +"I'm _not_ a chorus girl," corrected Pinkie. "And anyhow, she has a very +wealthy admirer who might star her, and if he does I'd like to be in her +company. See?" + +"Oho! That's the racket, eh?" laughed "Marky." "You may be right. A ton +of money, an ounce of sense, a pretty girl and a love-sick angel have +made many a star in the theatrical firmament." + +"And while it lasts, I might just as well be in the push," added Pinkie, +wisely. "Gawd knows I need the money." + +"Marky" surveyed Pinkie carefully. + +"Why is it you are always so hard up, Pinkie?" he inquired. "You ought +to be able to get a good engagement, but I say, there ain't much style +about the way you dress. What I like is style--real flashy style--lots +of color and ginger." + +"I'm sorry I'm so poor," sobbed Pinkie, plaintively. "But I can't help +it, Mr. Zinsheimer. You know the company stranded and I haven't had +anything to do since. It's very kind of you to be so considerate, Mr. +Zinsheimer. Would you mind if I call you 'Feathers'? That's what I +always call you to Flossie." + +"Well, if you call me 'Feathers,' I won't call you _down_," replied +"Marky," laughing laboriously at his own joke. "But now I'll tell you +what we'll do. Flossie's out and won't know anything about it, so let's +you and me jump into a taxicab and go down to some of the shops. We can +just make it before six o'clock, and I'll buy you a lot of fancy things. +Eh, what?" + +"Eh, what?" almost shouted Pinkie. "Do you mean it?" + +"Do I mean it?" insisted "Marky." "Sure. I've got a taxi waiting +outside. Will you come?" + +Pinkie rose majestically to the occasion. Drying her eyes, and looking +anxiously at the parlor clock for fear that it might already be time for +Flossie to return before she could get into the taxicab, she grabbed her +coat, without even waiting to get a hat, seized "Marky" by the arm and +dragged him toward the hallway. + +"Will I?" she repeated. "Watch me, kid." + +[Illustration: "I'M SORRY I'M SO POOR" SOBBED PINKIE.] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +SANFORD GORDON REAPPEARS + + +A smart limousine car darted across Broadway, turned the corner, and +drew up before the door of Mrs. Anderson's boarding-house. A tall, dark, +good-looking chap, whose erect figure was completely enveloped in a +fur-lined overcoat, emerged, and walked briskly up the steps. Lizzie +answered the bell, and started back in surprise when the stranger calmly +stepped inside, closed the door, slipped her a dollar bill, and said +quietly: + +"Take this card to Miss Farnum. She is expecting me." + +"Yes, sir," stammered Lizzie. "Will you wait in the parlor, sir?" + +"So this is where she lives?" mused the visitor, shaking his head as he +looked around the neat but poorly furnished room, with its supply of +theatrical photographs and the large picture of Arnold Lawrence, leading +man, on the piano. "I'll soon get her out of this miserable hole." + +Martha Farnum entered, her step so light that he did not hear her until +she touched his arm and extended her hand in greeting. "Mr. Gordon!" + +"I received your message," cried Sanford, turning quickly and clasping +her hand with such fervor that Martha unconsciously sought to withdraw +it. "I'm glad you remember me." + +"I remembered the name," explained Martha. "You are a man so much talked +about that it is not strange a little country girl should remember the +time she first met so celebrated a personage. But when you sent me the +note to-night, I realized for the first time that it was you who had +been sending me so many presents." + +"Only a few trifles--" + +"And so I wanted to see you." + +"That was kind of you," replied Gordon, as they sat on the sofa. "I have +been wanting to see you all these weeks, but somehow I didn't know how +to begin. Finally, to-night, I decided to write you a little message and +see if you remembered me." + +Martha turned toward him frankly. + +"I want to know the meaning of your remarkable presents," she said, with +the utmost ingenuousness. + +Gordon laughed a trifle, as though to dismiss the matter. + +"Nonsense," he declared. "They weren't so very remarkable. A few +presents and a little pin-money which I thought might come in handy for +a girl getting a small income." + +"Such presents would be appreciated by some girls," replied Martha, +offering him a small packet which she had held in her hand, "but I have +no right to take them." + +"Then you haven't spent anything?" exclaimed Gordon, in surprise, +looking at the roll of yellow-backed bills and the half-dozen trinkets +which she returned to him. + +"Not a dollar. I would have returned them sooner, but I didn't know who +the mysterious donor was." + +"Please keep the money, Miss Farnum, and the other things. They mean +nothing to me, and think of the comfort and pleasure they can bring +you." + +"I have no right to accept anything from you." + +"Then take the money for some one else. There must be some pet charity, +some deserving chorus girl who has a sick mother, some fresh-air fund +you want to contribute to. Please don't ask me to take back things so +freely given." + +"No, I cannot take it," replied Martha, firmly. + +Gordon twirled his moustache nervously and peered curiously at her. Here +was a case, indeed, one which the fastidious Sanford had never +previously encountered. A chorus girl to refuse money and presents? +Unprecedented! How the chaps at the club would chaff him if he ever told +the story. He--the best-known boulevardier of Broadway, a welcome guest +at every Bohemian gathering, who called actors and managers by their +first names and was the most flattered and most sought after member of +that queer white-light society of night revellers which regarded the +setting of the sun as the dawning of a new day--he, Sanford Gordon, +virtually flouted by an obscure chorus girl whom he had deigned to honor +with his attentions? Why, the thing was unbelievable. + +"Are you in earnest?" he demanded. + +"Certainly," replied Martha, rising. "I cannot be under obligations to +you or any one else, especially in money matters." + +"Listen, Miss Farnum," cried Gordon, coming to her. "My conduct may seem +strange to you. Call it a whim, if you like. But since I saw you that +first night at the Casino, I have wanted to be friends with you. Can't +we be friends?" + +"Friends? Why, of course," replied Martha, sincerely. + +"You want to succeed in your profession. Let me help you." + +"What could you do?" + +"I know the manager pretty well, for one thing. Victor Weldon is going +to make a few new productions this season, and if I asked him to give +you a part, he would probably do it." + +"But I want to succeed on my merits," insisted Martha. "If I am to win +success, I must deserve it. I should be ashamed and humiliated if I +secured an engagement through influence, and then failed." + +"But why refuse influence?" protested Gordon. "It gives you the +opportunity, and that is something every one must have. Many a clever +actor and actress is walking Broadway to-day without an engagement, +simply because of lack of opportunity. Now, if Weldon offers you a part +in his new production at the Globe Theater, you won't refuse it, will +you?" + +"No, I wouldn't do that," pondered Martha. "But do you think I could +play a small part?" + +"Of course you can, and anyhow, never give up without a trial. Weldon +might even offer you the leading role if the part suited you." + +"The leading role?" gasped Martha. "Impossible!" + +"Not at all," continued Gordon. "I happen to know that in his new +production the leading role is that of a simple little country +girl--just the sort of ingenue you were when I first met you at French +Lick. The songs are simple. In fact, it's a little play with songs--not +a big musical production. Your very simplicity and naturalness would +make you splendidly suited to the role." + +"It sounds like a dream," cried Martha, wonderingly. "Are you sure Mr. +Weldon would ever give me a trial in the part?" + +Gordon came close to her. "If I ask it," he said impressively and with a +queer inflection of his voice which Martha did not understand. "If I ask +it, the thing is done. Come out to dinner with me and we'll talk it +over." + +Martha's heart sank. "I'd like to, really," she said wearily, "but I've +never been out to dinner before, and Aunt Jane would be furious if I +went." + +"You are not responsible to--your Aunt Jane, as you call her--are you?" + +"No, but--" + +"There isn't any one else, is there?" + +"Yes--no--that is--" + +"I thought you were here alone?" + +"I am alone," replied Martha, with a sudden outburst of rebellion +against the conditions with which she had surrounded herself. "I am +responsible to no one and can do as I please. Still--" she hesitated +tearfully, "I don't think I'd better go." + +"I've got my car outside. Come up to Rector's and have a bite. I'll +drive you to the theater afterwards." + +"Oh, I'd love to," cried Martha. "I wonder if I dared." + +"Of course. Come along." + +"But I couldn't go in these clothes," exclaimed Martha. "I'd have to +change--I've got a little evening frock I used to wear to dances back in +Indiana. Oh, I'm sure there can be no harm, and even if Aunt Jane is +angry, it will blow over by to-morrow." + +"Of course. How soon will you be ready?" + +"In twenty minutes." + +"I'll drive over to the club and return for you. I'd wait here only +these boarding-house parlors are so public. And that reminds me--you'd +better move to some other place where you can have some comfort and +decent surroundings." + +"I'm sure this is very nice, and all I can afford," replied Martha, +with some show of spirit. + +"Oh, you can afford better quarters when Weldon engages you to-morrow," +replied Gordon. "Your salary will be bigger, of course. Hurry up and +change your togs. I'll wait out front in the car when I return." + +Three minutes later, Martha was still standing alone in the otherwise +empty parlor. Indecision was written on her face. Gordon had gone, but +still she made no move toward her room and the changing of her gown. The +outer door had slammed, and Flossie Forsythe entered with the usual +harmonious accompaniment of the rattling chatelaines. + +"Hello, Martha," cried Flossie. "Wasn't that Sanford Gordon just got in +his limousine in front of the house? Came from here, too. I saw him just +as I turned the corner." + +"Really?" replied Martha, coldly, moving toward the door. "I suppose +you know him better than I do," she added, as she left the room. + +"Humph," murmured Flossie. "Stuck-up show-girl." + +"Where's Pinkie?" inquired Mrs. Anderson, entering to light the gas. +"Hasn't she returned yet?" + +"Has Pinkie gone out?" inquired Flossie, munching a caramel. + +"Yes. She drove off in a taxicab with some man half an hour ago. I +thought he was a friend of yours." + +"Pinkie drove off in a taxicab with a man?" Flossie fairly shrieked in +amazement. "Will wonders never cease?" + +"I couldn't see who it was," explained Aunt Jane, as the door-bell +announced another visitor. "But I know it was a man." + +"D'je ever hear the like of that?" Flossie shook her head wonderingly. +"Seems to me I'm getting the double cross." + +"Well, if it isn't Mr. Lawrence," cried Mrs. Anderson, in the hallway, +ushering in a distinguished-looking individual with crisp, curly, dark +hair, a smoothly shaven face, an elegant bearing and a far-away look in +his flashing, dark eyes. "I'm so glad to welcome you home again--for you +know I like to feel that all my guests are, after all, members of a +happy little family." + +"And glad I am to be back in your hospitable house," responded Lawrence. +"What's this I see? My photograph?" he added, beaming with delight and +gazing admiringly at the large photo on the piano. + +"If we cannot have you, Mr. Lawrence," declared Mrs. Anderson, +feelingly, "it pleases us to always have your photograph before us." + +"The good lady is devoted as ever to me," thought Lawrence to himself. +Aloud: "Ah, this is indeed a home for us actors, my dear Mrs. +Anderson--a real home." + +[Illustration: "AND GLAD I AM TO BE BACK IN YOUR HOSPITABLE HOUSE."] + +"This is another member of our family," explained Aunt Jane. "Miss +Flossie Forsythe, Mr. Lawrence." + +"How do you do?" Lawrence curtly acknowledged the introduction. + +"I seen you in Harlem once," replied Flossie, admiringly. "I recognized +you at once by your photograph." + +"Indeed? I believe my features are somewhat familiar to the general +public." + +"Oh, I'm in the profession, too," added Flossie, proudly. + +"Indeed? The chorus?" + +"Why, the idea--" + +"For my part, I am not one of those who regard the chorus as a +legitimate branch of the acting profession. It is something beyond the +strict limits of our art, like the scene painter, the property master, +the musician. The actor is a thing apart." + +Flossie collapsed on the sofa as he disappeared into the hall with Mrs. +Anderson. "Well, wouldn't that give you tonsillitis!" she ejaculated. + +The door from the hall was suddenly thrown open as though Hercules had +brushed it aside as he would a fly, and Pinkie Lexington burst into the +room looking like a rainbow. In place of the old, dilapidated traveling +suit, she wore a smart new gown of purple velvet. A hat with a gorgeous +purple plume almost concealed her face, and round her shoulders hung an +elaborate set of furs. Close behind this gorgeous apparition was "Marky" +Zinsheimer, a trifle nervous and ill at ease at suddenly finding so many +persons around. + +"Hello, everybody," cried Pinkie. "How do you like my rig?" + +"Pinkie!" shouted Flossie, aghast. "Is it really you?" + +"For the love of Heaven!" declared Mrs. Anderson, following her in and +clasping her hands together in mute admiration. + +"Stunning, by Jove!" Even Arnold Lawrence was moved to positive +admiration. + +"I'd like to see the manager who refuses me an engagement when I drag +these togs into his office," cried Pinkie, proudly pirouetting to show +the outfit from all sides. + +"You look like ready money, my dear," gasped Flossie. "But where on +earth did you get the junk?" + +"Never you mind," replied Pinkie, obviously embarrassed. + +"Mrs. Anderson said you went out riding in a taxi with a man," said +Flossie, wonderingly. Then, as her eyes for the first time fell on +Zinsheimer, who was trying to edge toward the door and escape unnoticed, +she sprang to her feet, pointed her finger at the shrinking "Marky," and +screamed: "With him?" + +"None of your business," retorted Pinkie. + +"Marky, have you been out with Pinkie?" cried Flossie. "Answer me." + +"That's the man. Certainly," declared Mrs. Anderson. + +"Well, what of it?" stammered "Marky." "I just took Pinkie down to a few +of the stores, and there you are." + +"Oh, you cat!" cried Flossie, stamping her foot and clenching her fists. +"You hypocrite!" + +"Now see here, I thought you girls was friends," began Zinsheimer. "Kiss +and make up, girls." + +"I won't call any one names," responded Pinkie, with the air of a +martyr. "She has insulted me, but I will forgive her if she apologizes. +Marky, tell her to apologize." + +"Never!" cried Flossie, swinging in a circle so abruptly that the +rattling chatelaines shot out at an angle of forty-five degrees. "I will +never speak to her again, or to you either, Marky Zinsheimer. I'm +through with both of you. In all my stage career this is the crowning +disappointment. Oh, the degradation! To be cut out by a fat blonde!" + +"Marky" Zinsheimer edged toward the door. + +"This," he declared, "is where Marky Zinsheimer exits smilingly." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +LOVE AND AMBITION + + +"And I can't do a thing with her," concluded Aunt Jane, in her recital +of Martha's shortcomings, while Clayton listened with an amused air at +the story of his ward's latest adventure. "She's headstrong and +unreliable, and though I love her as I would my own daughter, I think it +is time for you to talk to her seriously. When a chorus girl commences +to receive hundred-dollar bills and diamonds, she can't stay in my house +until I know who sends them, and why. That's all. That's why I +telephoned you to come right over." + +"I'm glad you 'phoned me, Aunt Jane," said Clayton. "I missed a pretty +important business engagement at dinner to be here, but I gathered from +your message that something important had developed. I fancy Martha will +tell us all about it. After all, it's no crime to admire Martha. I +admire her myself. The change in her has been wonderful. I had no idea +when I first brought her here that a few months in New York would result +in such swift development." + +"It's been swift all right, Mr. Clayton. I'll tell her you're here." + +Clayton awaited Martha's coming with mingled emotions of pleasure and +regret, pleasure at seeing her, for he had grown genuinely to like and +admire her; regret, for he feared she was beginning to find her +self-imposed bonds a trifle wearisome. In that case, of course, their +compact would be at an end, for, though their arrangement had not +contemplated any incident which would lead to a breaking of their +contract, it was obvious that Martha could not expect him to ignore +calmly a violation of it. His own self-respect made this impossible. He +would have to protest, and by protesting, perhaps lose completely any +influence he might have over her. + +The months that had passed since he first agreed to finance Martha's +venture into the realm of theatricals had been months of uneasiness. +Time and again he had resolved to visit her, talk with her, find out +what progress she was making; yet each time he feared he might inject +too personal an interest into these inquiries. That had been their +agreement: "Down with love and up with ambition." He had warned her of +the wayward influences of love at a time when the possibility of caring +for her himself had never entered his head. "I suppose," he had said to +himself a dozen times, "she'll fall in love with some actor and marry +him without even bothering to let me know." This idea first awakened the +possibility that he might keenly regret such an indiscretion on her +part. Then came the ardent desire to see her himself, advise her, and +protect her from the pitfalls of her profession. But he had dismissed +this as a subterfuge invented by himself as an excuse for seeing her. + +"No," he had concluded. "I will stick by my bargain. I am making an +experiment in character development, and I will not let my personal +sentiment affect my judgment as a business man. I agreed to aid her +until she can become self-supporting, or admits that she is a failure. +So long as she keeps her part of the contract, I will keep mine." + +Another and more powerful reason for absenting himself from all +neighborhoods where he might meet her, and especially from Mrs. +Anderson's boarding-house, was the fear that she might consider him in +the light of a benefactor to whom she was under obligations. This galled +him--to think that she might be outwardly cordial while secretly bored. +For Clayton was modest enough to believe that his unassuming airs and +reticent ways would not prove attractive to a high-spirited girl so +many years his junior. + +"What a surprise," cried Martha, entering the parlor suddenly. She was +dressed for the street. In fact, had Clayton been a few minutes later, +he would have missed her altogether, for Aunt Jane had announced his +visit just in the nick of time. + +"Hello," said Clayton, greeting her cordially. "What's the trouble +between you and Aunt Jane?" + +"Trouble?" repeated Martha. "There isn't any." + +"Then what did she mean by telephoning that you were getting a bit too +wild for her?" + +"She dared to say that?" exclaimed Martha, indignantly. "Oh, and so she +telephoned you to come and--and tame me--I suppose?" + +"Not exactly that," replied Clayton, smiling. "She did 'phone me, but +that was only in accordance with my instructions. I have always felt +that, as I am responsible for your being in New York, it was my duty to +look after you. But that is only part of our agreement, you know. I was +to advance you all the money necessary, keeping a strict account of +every penny, and you in return were to take my advice, and when you +became famous--repay the loan." + +"When I become famous?" mused Martha, sinking onto the sofa. "I wonder +if I ever will?" + +"Of course," cried Clayton, encouragingly. "And I want to help you all I +can." + +Martha turned her large eyes toward him appealingly. + +"Then why don't you come to see me oftener?" she asked softly. + +"That wasn't in the agreement," smiled Clayton. "And I hardly thought +you'd have any time for a mere man." + +"After all you've done for me, it would be strange if I didn't _take_ +time for you," replied Martha. Clayton shifted uneasily as she spoke. + +"That sounds like 'Thank you, sir,'" he said. + +"And I have to stop work sometimes, _to eat_," added Martha, +maliciously, and glancing at him as though trying to convey a subtle +hint. "And I hate to eat _alone_. I hate to eat dinner at Aunt Jane's +_all_ the time. I've wanted to go out to dinner so many times since I've +been in New York, but I _never_ had any one invite me, until to-day." + +"Hm! That's the cause of the row with Aunt Jane?" + +"She didn't like the idea." + +"Some masculine admirer, of course?" + +"Yes, he is," replied Martha, defiantly. + +"Who is he?" + +As she turned away without response, Clayton added: "Martha, who is he?" + +"One you yourself introduced to me," she replied shortly. + +"I?" He pondered a moment, surprised. "Not Sanford Gordon?" he said +finally, and only by an effort suppressing a faint "Damn." + +"Yes," declared Martha. "I am going out with him to dinner now." + +"Not with my consent," declared Clayton, emphatically. + +"And why not, please?" + +"For many reasons," he said, sitting beside her. "Frankly, how long has +this been going on?" + +"About three months, if you must know," replied Martha, bristling a +little at his inquisition. + +"Have you seen him often?" + +"To-day was the first time." + +"He has written to you?" + +"Yes." + +"Sent you presents, I suppose?" + +"A few pieces of jewelry. Every week he has sent me an envelope. Inside, +with a blank piece of paper, was a hundred-dollar bill. I never knew +until to-day who sent them." + +"What have you done with these things?" + +"I handed them all back to him, in this room, half an hour ago. I told +him I could accept nothing from him, but finally I agreed to go to +dinner with him to-night. He's probably waiting out front now, in his +car." + +Clayton rose to his feet nervously and paced the floor. + +"What else did he say?" he inquired. + +"He was very nice and respectful. He offered to speak to Mr. Weldon, the +manager, and get me a new part--perhaps the leading part--in his new +production." + +"So that's his little game, is it?" said Clayton, still more annoyed. +"Money and jewels returned, his next bribe is an engagement. How do you +know you could play the part?" + +"I might succeed," pouted Martha. "And even a star who tries and fails, +can never forget that she did star--once." + +"And so your success means more to you than anything else that life can +offer?" + +Martha's eyes were still fired by the light of her ambition. "Yes," she +said. + +"If you please, Miss," interrupted Lizzie, entering at that moment, "Mr. +Gordon is outside in his car, and wants to know if you will be ready +soon." + +"Tell him--" began Martha. Then she hesitated, looking doubtfully at +Clayton, who came close to her as though awaiting her decision on a +momentous matter. + +"Martha," he asked, "are you still determined to keep this dinner +engagement with Gordon?" + +"Why not?" Martha seemed to take a keen delight in arousing his +displeasure. "There's no harm in it, and Mr. Gordon has been very kind +to me." + +"As he has been to the others--before you," said Clayton, bitterly, +almost savagely. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Never mind. If I can't convince you without blackguarding him, I'll let +you go. I only ask you to trust me, and believe that I am doing my +best--for you." Clayton paused doubtfully. "If you hate to eat dinner +alone," he added suddenly, as an afterthought, "so do I. Martha, come +with me." + +"But I promised Mr. Gordon. He's waiting." + +"But remember, you have a contract with me." + +"Yes," replied Martha, half angrily. "With a friend. Not a jailer. +Good-night." + +Martha started toward the door, but Clayton raised his hand and she +hesitated, as he blocked the way. + +"Well?" she demanded defiantly. + +"You can choose between him and me," declared Clayton, hotly. "But +you've got to choose. If you go with him, breaking your contract, I wash +my hands of the whole business. Now, choose." + +Martha met his gaze squarely, half angrily, half contemptuously. Then +she turned to the waiting maid. + +"Lizzie," she said, clearly and distinctly, "ask Mr. Gordon--" Yet, even +as she spoke her voice faltered, she looked at Clayton, and added, +dropping her eyes, in an almost inaudible undertone: "--_to excuse me_." + +Clayton took her arm eagerly, and she looked up again into his face. + +"You brute," she said, but she laughed when she said it. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE UNDERGROUND WIRES + + +The sign on the door of Suite 1239 in the Knickerbocker Theater Building +bore the legend, in plain black letters: + + VICTOR WELDON + + Theatrical Manager + +Suite 1239 was really two small rooms, an outer and an inner office. The +outer office, overlooking busy Broadway, which seethed and simmered its +hurrying crowds far below, was divided into two parts by a railing. On +one side two long benches served as havens of rest for weary stage-folk +in search of engagements. Ever and anon one, two, or even three +players, perhaps chorus girls, perhaps actors, perhaps character women, +would enter timidly, look around the office as though expecting the +imperial Jove to hurl thunderbolts at them for their presumption in thus +invading the sacred precincts, and then tremblingly ask the red-haired +stenographer on the other side of the rail: + +"Is Mr. Weldon engaging any one?" + +And the red-haired stenographer, invariably without looking up from her +machine, would reply: + +"Nothing doing to-day." + +Sometimes this routine would vary a trifle, in case Mr. Weldon, for +reasons of his own, wished to have his office appear like a busy mart. +Then the stenographer would say: + +"Mr. Weldon is very busy now, but if you want to wait, perhaps you can +see him." + +This left-handed invitation, containing only the slightest ray of hope +that perhaps the great manager would engage some one for something, was +invariably pounced upon eagerly, for actors undergoing that sad daily +routine known as "making the rounds," knew to their sorrow that +invitations even to sit down and wait were few and far between. The +"Call to-morrow" slogan was the more usual excuse in getting rid of +applicants. In a profession as overcrowded as the theatrical business +there are thirty applicants for every possible position, but still the +unsuccessful ones keep on "making the rounds" on the chance that sooner +or later they will be engaged. + +Mr. Weldon's private reasons for wishing his outer office to be filled +at certain times possibly had something to do with the fact that on +these occasions certain smartly dressed, prosperous men called on +business and were instantly admitted to the inner office. Then the +stenographer, having had her cues, would drop some casual remark about +"The backer of the new show," whereupon the professionals would become +more alert at the prospect of "Something doing." Of course, conversely, +the mysterious "backers" were impressed by the stage setting of an outer +office of players looking for engagements from the great Mr. Weldon. + +Contrary to the popular idea, based mainly on the comic weeklies, +theatrical backers or "angels" are comparatively rare. Therefore, Victor +Weldon's line of procedure since Mrs. Dainton had abruptly closed her +American tour because of the illness of her Pomeranian pup, had been +exceedingly uncertain. He had planned various productions on his own +account, and he had endeavored unsuccessfully to interest certain +financial gentlemen of the Wall Street district in the merits of two or +three plays he had read. One of them in particular, a simple little +comedy of peasant life in Germany, with two or three songs, had greatly +impressed him. It was of Viennese origin, skillfully translated and +adapted, but preserving the Viennese atmosphere and characters. Entitled +"The Village Girl," the central role was that of a peasant girl who fell +in love with a prince when the latter was hunting in disguise as a mere +woodsman. Afterwards, meeting him at the state ball face to face in his +gorgeous uniform, she, by renouncing her love for him because of his +rank and title, ultimately led the old Emperor to relent and give his +consent to their marriage. + +"Good plot," murmured Weldon, after reading it in his private office. +"The old stuff like this always goes with the public. There's a plot +that must succeed, because it has never been known to fail. I can +produce this play and make a barrel of money if I can only find a +backer. I wonder if I couldn't rope Gordon in on this?" + +Which explains why Sanford Gordon had already heard of the play at the +time he renewed his acquaintance with Martha, and further explains the +fact that three days later he was closeted with Weldon in the inner +private office of Suite 1239 in the Knickerbocker Theater Building. + +"It will cost about twenty thousand cold, before we ring up the +curtain," explained Weldon, skillfully calculating with the aid of a +pencil and a pad of paper. "It will take about seven thousand for the +production, including costumes and uniforms. Everything is Viennese this +season, so we must get the correct atmosphere. Advertising and printing +may take up two or three thousand more, and then we'll probably have to +guarantee at least twenty-five hundred to the theater we select. I'd +like to get a classy theater like the Globe, where they have ushers in +English military uniforms, and society people always go there because +some one tipped them off that it was _the_ society theater of New York. +But it might take a little more money to get the Globe." + +"Get the Globe by all means," said Gordon. "A few thousand more or less +mean nothing if the thing is a hit, and if it is a failure, I guess I +can stand the loss quite as well." + +Victor Weldon sprang to his feet excitedly. The "roping in" had been +easier than he anticipated, for Sanford Gordon, in spite of his +propensity for squandering wealth in certain directions, belonged to the +category of "wise people." No one ever wasted postage to send him +green-goods catalogues, and Weldon had been extremely doubtful of his +ability to get Gordon as a backer, although, of course, he had enjoyed +unlimited opportunities to win his confidence while acting as Mrs. +Dainton's manager. + +"It's the chance of a lifetime," Weldon thought to himself as he clasped +Gordon's hand to bind the bargain. + +"I'll have the necessary legal papers drawn up by my lawyer," explained +Gordon. "The money will be deposited with the Commercial Trust Company +to-morrow morning. You will handle this production exactly as though it +is your own--with one exception, my dear Weldon." + +"What is that?" asked Weldon, apprehensively. + +"You will engage for the leading role a young lady I will designate--" + +"Ah, now I understand--" began Weldon, smiling. + +"--who will have no inkling whatever of the fact that I am the backer of +this show. In fact, no one must know that I am furnishing the money. +Furthermore, at any time I see fit--if, for instance, the young lady +cannot, in my judgment, play the part satisfactorily--I reserve the +right to stop the whole production _instantly_, merely paying the +necessary bills. Do you understand?" + +"But you wouldn't close the show if it's a hit, would you?" demanded +Weldon. + +"I'm not likely to close the show at all," he laughed. "But I have +reasons of my own for reserving that right. Otherwise, however, you are +the manager, owner, producer and director. Do as you please, my dear +Weldon, but remember the terms of our compact." + +"I am not likely to forget them," cried Weldon, enthusiastically. "But," +he added nervously, "can the young lady you wish me to engage really act +the part?" + +"I don't know and I don't care," responded Gordon. "The fact remains +that she is going to play the part, and if she doesn't know how to act, +teach her. That's all." + +Weldon shook his head sadly. + +"I had hoped, after my experience, Mr. Gordon, that I was through with +those bloomers where they try to force an unknown on the public," he +sighed. "But I know you too well to try and argue that a well-known +actress of reputation would help the piece and perhaps make it a hit." + +Gordon picked up his silk hat and balanced it with one hand while he +took his cane and gloves from the desk. + +"It is immaterial to me, Weldon, whether the piece is a hit or not," he +said carelessly. "Of course, I sincerely hope, for your sake, that it +proves a success. But I won't shed any tears if it isn't. Like the +respected founders of the New Theater, I am not producing this play to +make money. I am simply endeavoring to give a certain young lady a +chance to play a star part in a Broadway theater. If she has the merit +to succeed, so much the better, for her sake and for yours. But +personally I don't give a damn--so long as I pull the strings." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN THE GREEN-ROOM + + +Time: Three months later. + +"Half hour! Half hour!" + +The resonant cry of the call-boy, making the rounds of the +dressing-rooms of the Globe Theater, penetrated to the great empty +green-room, immediately adjoining the star's dressing-room. Downstairs, +from the musicians' room, came the sounds of the scraping of violin bows +across the strings, the occasional toot of the French horn or the +preliminary notes from a flute. Through the green-baize doors leading to +the stage came the sounds of shifting scenery as the stage hands set the +first act of "The Village Maid." A curtain was half drawn across the +entrance to the adjoining star's room, behind which the faithful Lizzie +of the boarding-house, now transformed into a real maid for an actress, +was busily engaged preparing the toilette articles and the costumes of +Miss Martha Farnum, actress. + +Messenger boy 735, his diminutive figure almost hidden beneath a +gigantic box of flowers, was escorted through the baize doors by old +Pete, the back-door watchman. + +"Put 'em down there, sonny," directed Pete, pointing toward a couch in +the green-room. "And then vamoose quick. I got to watch the door, 'cause +Miss Farnum ain't come in yet." + +Number 735 deposited the flowers as directed, carefully cut the strings, +opened the box, and was in the act of breaking off a fine American +Beauty when Lizzie fortunately caught sight of him from the +dressing-room. + +"Here, you thief. Don't you dare," she cried. + +"I only wanted one, lady," replied 735. "Gee, if I was an actress with +all them blooms, I'd be glad to slip one of them to a kid who's going to +sit up in the gallery and applaud your old show." + +"Are you going to see the play?" asked Lizzie. + +"Betcher life. A man give me a ticket and four bits to sit in the +gallery and clap everything." + +"What--everything?" queried Lizzie. + +"Well, everything our leader does. There's forty of us kids, all got +gallery tickets free and fifty cents on the side. And say, when Miss +Farnum comes on the stage, you bet she'll hear us yell. We got orders to +raise de roof den." + +"You awful boy," cried Lizzie, genuinely shocked. "Here, take the rose, +but don't tell any one about your free tickets. Miss Farnum won't care +to have any one know the audience is paid to clap her." + +"Aw, quit kidding me," responded 735, moving toward the stage. "Why, we +sees 'most all the New York shows that way for nothing. We get paid to +clap, even if the show's rotten. Don't try to kid me, baby." + +"It's wonderful what you learn when you go on the stage," murmured the +horrified Lizzie, after she had chased 735 into the darker regions of +the stage. "I wonder what's keeping Miss Farnum?" she added +thoughtfully, as she returned to the dressing-room. + +Weldon, clad in immaculate evening clothes, and accompanied by an +unobtrusive young chap wearing a dinner coat, a gray vest, a gray tie +and a small derby, strolled back behind the scenes to make sure +everything was all right for the opening. This was really Weldon's most +ambitious attempt. For years he had served in a business capacity with +many stars, and occasionally he had produced things on his own account, +but never before had his bank-roll assumed proportions which would +justify him in leasing the exclusive Globe Theater. If the new +production made good it would be the making of him as a manager as well. +Consequently he was in delightful spirits. + +His companion was a trifle more subdued, for upon his somewhat boyish +face there was a cloud of anxiety. He was keen, alert, almost +deferential in his attitude toward the manager, but a certain +experienced air suggested that behind his youthful appearance there was +dynamic energy and a fund of vitality which might burst forth at any +moment. He was Phil Hummer, the press agent of the Globe Theater, a +former newspaper man who, as he often expressed it, "quit writing for +the papers because he found he could make more money as a press agent." +For weeks he had been assiduously informing the public, through such +newspaper mediums as he could persuade to print his effusions, of the +importance of Miss Martha Farnum's approaching stellar debut--for in +the new play, be it known, Martha was being "starred." + +A Broadway star! How often have you read of the wonderful luck of some +obscure chorus girl, called upon in an emergency to play the leading +role, and next day proclaimed a star! Pretty fiction it is. Once in a +while it happens in real life, but very seldom. It is the alluring tales +of the sudden elevation of choristers which attract and fascinate the +beginner. The oft-told story of how Edna May rose from the ranks and +became a Casino star over-night, has served as the guiding beacon in the +life story of many a chorus girl seeking for fame; alas! too often in +vain. + +"Ready to-night for the stellar debut of Miss Martha Farnum," cried +Weldon, enthusiastically. "To-night is the night that wins or loses +all." + +In clear defiance of the printed rules of the Fire Department young Mr. +Hummer carefully lighted a cigarette and observed carelessly: "Can't +see how any one loses unless it's Miss Farnum." + +"Not lose?" repeated Weldon. "Why, man, haven't I rented the theater for +six weeks on a guarantee, to say nothing of engaging the company and +paying for the most expensive scenic production of the season? With a +new Paris gown for every act? If Miss Farnum doesn't make good, where am +I?" + +"Exactly where you were three months ago," said Hummer. + +"Nothing of the sort--" began Weldon, when Hummer, with a warning +gesture, held his finger to his lips and nodded toward the dressing-room +where Lizzie was preparing for the coming of her mistress. + +"Cut it, Weldon," he whispered meaningly. "I know it's not your money, +so what's the use?" + +"Not my money? Don't I pay you your salary?" + +"Certainly; but I know, and every one else in the company guesses, that +you are only the figurehead." + +"The idea!" sputtered Weldon, pompously. "Don't the bills read: 'Victor +Weldon presents Miss Farnum'?--_presents_, mind you." + +Hummer stepped closer a bit, puffed at his cigarette, and motioned +toward the dressing-room. + +"She's the meal ticket," he added. + +"You mean Miss Farnum?" + +"Exactly. She found the angel, not you. If he withdrew his support +to-night, you couldn't keep this thing going thirty minutes." + +Weldon dropped into a chair and asked weakly: + +"How did you find out?" + +"The day you engaged me to incite public interest in your star, I found +out who the angel was. I hadn't been hanging around the Casino for +nothing. Half a dozen of the newspaper boys know all about his +infatuation for her." + +Victor Weldon smiled weakly. "Every one said you were good at guessing +things," he remarked. "But listen, Phil. Not a word of this to any one. +Even Miss Farnum doesn't know how things really stand." + +Hummer whistled. + +"She don't know Gordon is putting up the money?" + +Weldon shook his head. + +"And she thinks it is honest recognition of real merit?" + +Weldon said nothing. + +"My word, what a good story, and I can't print it," ejaculated Hummer, +turning toward the door that led behind the boxes to the front of the +house. Just as he was about to open it, Gordon pushed it ajar with one +quick stroke of his powerful arm, and strode into the green-room. + +"Where's Miss Farnum?" he asked brusquely. "Oh, I thought you were +Weldon," he added, turning abruptly from Hummer. + +"This is Mr. Hummer, our press representative," explained Weldon, coming +forward eagerly. + +"Ah, the press agent? Very good," responded Gordon, carelessly turning +his back on Hummer. + +"Let us say, rather, inciter of public interest," explained Hummer. +"Paid to get fiction into the papers, and to suppress facts." + +Gordon turned toward him curiously. "Indeed! And what do you suppress?" +he asked. + +"Well," drawled Hummer, "who is furnishing the money for Miss Farnum's +starring venture, for one thing, especially as she doesn't know +herself." And with a light laugh Hummer went "in front" by the passage +leading behind the boxes. + +"See here, Weldon," said Gordon, decisively, "it is now almost eight +o'clock. When do you ring up the curtain?" + +"At twenty minutes past," replied Weldon. + +"Then understand me thoroughly. You will not ring up that curtain until +I say so. Understand me--_until I say so_." + +Gordon's tone clearly indicated something unusual. "What do you mean?" +asked Weldon. + +"Unless things go my way first, that curtain will never go up on this +production," said Gordon, tensely. "Oh, don't worry," as he saw the +other's face wrinkle. "I'll see that you personally don't lose anything +by it. But if I am to pay the piper for this crazy starring scheme, I +want some return for my money. Have the orchestra ring in as usual and +play the overture. Have all the people ready in their costumes, and +then, just before Martha Farnum steps upon that stage, I want to see her +here. Do you understand?" + +"I didn't before," answered Weldon, meaningly, "but I am just beginning +to now." + +Alone, Gordon clenched his hands nervously. + +"I've given her everything she has wanted for the past three months," he +murmured, "even this latest plaything--a theater and a company of her +own--but I think we'll have a settlement to-night, my dear Martha; a +little clearer understanding before the curtain rises on my latest +folly." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AN OVERTURE AND A PRELUDE + + +"This," said Martha, "is as far as you can venture. There is my +dressing-room, sacred only to the star--that's Poor Little Me." + +And with a profound courtesy, she bowed low before Clayton. Then rising +with the air of a tragedy queen, she pointed toward the door. + +"Begone, varlet!" she cried, with mock intensity. "Your queen dismisses +you." + +Clayton laughed. "So little Martha Farnum has become a great New York +star at last," he said seriously. "I couldn't realize that you were +really going up so rapidly. This offer from Weldon was really enough to +take your breath away, and when he decided during rehearsals to feature +you so prominently, I concluded that perhaps you had more talent than +either of us ever suspected. But when he actually starred you--say, did +you see your name in electric letters as we came by the front of the +theater?" + +"Yes," cried Martha. "It almost took my breath away." + +Clayton shook his head wonderingly. + +"I remember your telling me Gordon offered to get you this engagement," +he said. "Do you suppose--" + +Martha laughed at his half-uttered thought. + +"Mr. Gordon has had nothing to do with it," she declared. "I am sure of +that, because he never came to one of the rehearsals. Once I saw some +one out front in the darkened theater who seemed like Mr. Gordon, but +when I asked him if he had attended the rehearsal he declared I was +mistaken." + +"But you've seen him?" + +"Yes, a number of times, and since you withdrew your restrictions, I +have had dinner with him frequently, but you know all about that." + +"I couldn't expect you to be cooped up all the time," Clayton admitted, +"especially when your salary leaped upward so amazingly. And I don't +blame you for taking a more comfortable apartment in the Webster. Aunt +Jane's boarding-house was all right for the chorus girl, but a trifle +too _passe_ for the future star." + +Martha shook her head sadly. "I think I was happier in those days than +now," she mused. "The more one attempts, the greater the chance for +failure. To-night I realize what is the ambition of most players, yet, +somehow, I am filled with dread. It doesn't seem right that I, plain +Martha Farnum, should be rushed upward like a skyrocket. Though the +rocket shoots upward in a blaze of glory, the stick must fall." + +"Good heavens, you mustn't anticipate bad luck," protested Clayton, +cheerily. "I'm going out front and witness your triumph." + +"If it only is a triumph!" sighed Martha. + +"It will be," insisted Clayton. "However, don't be nervous. Remember if +you ever need me, I will be within call. _Au revoir_--and good luck to +you," he added cordially, and in another moment he had gone, while +Martha stood staring blankly before her, and wondering what the night +would bring forth. + +"Oh, Miss Farnum," cried Lizzie, suddenly emerging from the +dressing-room, "you'd better hurry and dress for the first act. It is +almost time for the overture." + +"All right, Lizzie," answered Martha, going to the room and beginning to +disrobe. A moment later, Miss Pinkie Lexington, made up for the part of +a fashionable society woman, entered the green-room cautiously, and +crossed to the door behind the boxes. + +"Where can he be?" she murmured to herself. Then, hearing the call-boy +crying "Overture, overture," in the distance, she started quickly toward +the stage, only to pause abruptly when she found herself face to face +with Miss Flossie Forsythe, neatly attired in a maid's costume, and +wearing a white apron and cap. + +"Oh, I wouldn't have come here, if I'd known you was here," declared +Flossie, angrily. + +Pinkie extended a conciliating hand and said grandly: "Let's be friends, +Flossie. A girl shouldn't have enemies in the company." + +"It is hard enough to be compelled to accept an engagement in the same +company with you," replied Flossie, sarcastically, "but thank goodness, +a girl can choose her own friends." + +"It's the first part you ever had with real lines, isn't it?" + +"No," cried Flossie, indignantly. "I had lines when I was with the +'Follies' on the New York roof." + +"Oh, but I mean in a real play," replied Pinkie, superciliously. +"Anyhow, you don't want to get too gay with me. Remember, I got you this +engagement. I asked Martha to give you a real part, because I knew you +needed the money, now you've lost your lawsuit, and Mr. Zinsheimer, +too." + +"Zinsheimer!" repeated a stentorian voice behind them, as the proud +possessor of that historic name appeared, gorgeous in the resplendency +of an expansive shirt bosom and a white carnation in his button-hole. +"Now, Pinkie, you know I told you to call me 'Feathers.'" + +"Oh, Mr. Zinsheimer," half sobbed Flossie, "you are just in time. Even +though you care nothing more for me, you are too much of a gentleman to +let me be insulted. This _creature_ has--" + +"Nothing of the kind, Feathers," interrupted Pinkie. "Flossie's still +sore on me. I say, she'd better forget it. Girls ought to be friends +when they're in the same company." + +Zinsheimer raised his hands protestingly. "Aw, girls, cut it out, cut it +out. People these days have to be important to have enemies. Forget it. +There's a great audience out in front and all of them waiting to see the +little star. Ach Gott!" he added, as the green-baize doors were suddenly +thrown open from the stage, and an excitable whirlwind blew in. "Ach +Gott, what is this?" + +"This" turned out to be an imposing figure attired in the white huzzar +uniform of a German prince. His bronze wig with the pompadour effect, +his upturned moustache, his glittering decorations and smart uniform, +all indicated that he was a Great Personage. But, alas! from the knees +downward the illusion stopped. "This" didn't wear any boots. In fact, he +was in his stocking feet, and he trod the boards gingerly but none the +less dramatically. "This," in other words, was Arnold Lawrence, leading +man, and he was evidently somewhat _distrait_. + +"Miss Farnum," he cried. "Where is Miss Farnum?" + +"She's there in her dressing-room," explained Zinsheimer. "But she isn't +coming out until--well, until she's more so than she is now. What's the +matter?" + +"That stupid bootmaker has failed to send my boots," shouted Lawrence. +"How can I go on without my boots? I have the part of a royal prince of +the German Empire. Do you expect me to appear like this--without boots?" + +"Go ask the property man," directed Zinsheimer. "He's got some." + +"Bah! A German prince wear property boots? Impossible!" + +Martha, all ready for the first act, appeared in the door of her +dressing-room. + +"Miss Farnum," cried Lawrence, dramatically, "my boots have not arrived. +I refuse to go on unless correctly dressed." + +[Illustration: "MY BOOTS HAVE NOT ARRIVED, I REFUSE TO GO ON UNLESS +CORRECTLY DRESSED."] + +"But what can I do?" asked Martha, helplessly. + +"Dismiss the audience. I will not appear without the proper costume." + +"Oh, dear--please--" + +"I will not act." + +"But we can get some other boots--" + +"I tell you, I will not act." + +"For my sake--for the company's sake--" + +"I must think first of my art," almost shouted Lawrence. "The critics +are in front. If they saw me in boots not in keeping with the costume, +they would say I dressed the part wrongly. I would be ruined." + +Zinsheimer dragged the frantic leading man to one side. "Come here," he +cried. "She's got enough to worry her to-night without you. Now, do you +want the German prince to appear with a black eye?" + +"But heavens, man, what am I to do?" protested Lawrence. "Look at me. I +want my boots." + +"Aw, go act barefooted," replied Zinsheimer, disgustedly. + +"What? I barefoot?" + +"Well, why not? You haven't got anything on Ruth and Isadora. If they +can act barefooted, why not you?" + +"Preposterous!" exploded Lawrence, seeing he was being made game of. "I +tell you, I decline to act. It is the audience who suffers--not I." + +Fortunately Weldon entered at this psychological moment with the package +which had been delayed. The boots had been sent to the box-office +instead of the stage entrance. Lawrence, calmed at once as if by magic, +pounced upon it with a sigh of relief. + +"My boots--at last," he cried. "It is all right, Miss Farnum. They have +arrived. I will act to-night." + +In the general laughter that ensued, came the sharp cry of the assistant +stage manager calling "Places--first act." As Martha stepped toward the +stage, half trembling with mingled nervousness and glad anticipation at +the actual realization of her much cherished ambition, Weldon touched +her on the arm. + +"One moment, if you please, Miss Farnum," he said softly. "Believe me, I +regret to trouble you, but something very important has arisen. Mr. +Gordon wants to speak to you here." + +Martha turned toward him in surprise. "Mr. Gordon?" she repeated. "How +absurd! I can't see any one now." + +"He's very insistent, Miss Farnum." + +"Then tell him, after the play," replied Martha. "He must know the +curtain is just about to rise on the first act." + +"He knows that," responded Weldon, sincerely sorry at the awkward +predicament in which he saw things were becoming involved. "I know that, +but please, for my sake, see him, if only for a few moments." + +"That's a strange request," pondered Martha. "But if you really want it, +Mr. Weldon, of course I will comply. You have done so much for me that +indeed I ought to." + +"I will send him here at once," said Weldon, quickly, and disappeared +through the boxes. + +"Gordon?" said Martha, wonderingly to herself. Then to her maid: +"Lizzie, go and watch for my entrance." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +BEFORE THE CURTAIN ROSE + + +Gordon stopped short before Martha, involuntarily impressed at the +pleasing picture she made, clad in her simple but effective first-act +dress, as she half kneeled on the ottoman in the center of the +green-room, repeating to herself the lines from her part, which she held +in her hand and at which she occasionally glanced to refresh her memory. + +"You are indeed beautiful to-night," he half whispered, approaching her +closer. Martha turned toward him coldly. + +"Did you force yourself upon me this way just to utter such a +commonplace remark as that?" she asked. + +"Force myself?" repeated Gordon, half indignantly. + +"Yes. You know that I am nervous and excited over this performance +to-night. In a few moments I will have to face an unsympathetic +audience, ready to laugh if I score a failure, reluctant to concede +success. At such a time, how can you imagine I want to talk to any one? +All my strength and energy are needed for this conflict to-night, and it +was unkind of you to insist upon coming here at this moment." + +Gordon drew a chair near the ottoman and motioned for her to be seated. +Martha reluctantly sat beside him, her thoughts far away, her ears +listening intently for the curtain music to indicate the beginning of +the first act. + +"If you had refused to see me just now," said Gordon, quietly but +incisively, "the curtain would never have risen to-night. In fact, I am +not sure now that it will rise." + +[Illustration: MARTHA FARNUM (ELSIE JANIS)] + +Martha looked at him in simple amazement. "Nonsense," she replied. "The +curtain will rise in a few minutes." + +"It will when you say the word, provided it suits me also." + +"What do you mean?" Martha's voice expressed curiosity only. + +"The time is short, so I will speak plainly," said Gordon, tensely. "I +have purposely waited until the last moment so you could see both sides +of the picture. On the one hand, here are you, Martha Farnum, about to +make your actual appearance as a star at a Broadway theater. In six +months or less you have been transformed from a simple country girl to a +position often denied those who struggle for many years. Who do you +think has accomplished all this for you? Who is making you a star +to-night?" + +"Why--why, Mr. Weldon, of course," replied Martha, slightly bewildered. +"Who else?" + +Gordon laughed with just the suggestion of a sneer. + +"I am," he said coldly. + +"You? Impossible!" Martha rose in amazement. + +"For three months I have made it possible for you to have everything a +woman can want," continued Gordon, calmly, coming to her. "To-night the +climax is reached when you make your appearance as a star--if you +appear. While you have thought your natural talents were receiving just +recognition, I have been paying the bills." + +"And if what you say is true--all true--what then?" Martha gazed at him +blankly, as though dazed. + +"This. What I have done, I have done because of my admiration for you. +Up to this moment I have asked nothing in return, but now I do." + +"Return? You mean--?" + +"You're not such a fool as you'd have me think. What of the handsome +apartment you are living in, furnished by Mr. Weldon and supposed to be +paid for out of the salary you are to receive? Do you think Mr. Weldon +really paid the rent? No, my dear. I did." + +"No, no, no--I don't believe it," cried Martha, shrinking from him. +"It's incredible." + +"I don't care a rap for the money I have spent," cried Gordon, following +her. "I'd give it ten times over if you only loved me." + +"Loved you?" repeated Martha, scornfully. "How can you--" + +"Don't say no too hastily, Martha. I think I care more for you than I +ever did for any one else. I'll make you happy. There's nothing that my +money won't do or can't do. We can go around the world together--to +Paris, Vienna, India, Japan, anywhere you like." He came nearer. +"Martha, in all the time I have known and loved you, I have never had +one kiss. Shall I have the first to-night?" + +The girl turned and faced him squarely with flashing eyes. + +"Neither to-night nor any other night," she cried in ringing tones. + +"You mean it?" Gordon's face was pale and drawn. + +"Yes." + +"Is that your final answer?" he asked, after a pause. + +"It is," she replied defiantly. + +"Then listen to me," declared Gordon, his face flushed with sudden +anger. "Either you pledge your word to accept me on my own terms here +and now, or you will never make your entrance on that stage. Ah," he +added, as Martha reeled at the sudden realization of how completely he +controlled the situation, "that hits your vanity, does it? A nice little +story for the newspapers to-morrow. Theater closed, audience dismissed, +new star such a pitiful failure that she is too frightened to appear." + +"But that isn't true--that isn't true," cried Martha. + +"Isn't it? Try and convince the public otherwise." + +"I will, and that curtain shall go up to-night" Martha faced him bravely +enough, though her courage almost failed her. + +"Try it and see whose orders will be obeyed. Listen--the orchestra has +finished the overture. Think carefully, for your final answer now +decides your fate. You are at the parting of the ways. A future with me, +everything you desire, or back to your days of poverty." + +Weldon appeared as Martha seemed to hesitate. + +"Shall I ring up the curtain?" he asked quietly. + +"Wait," replied Gordon. He turned to Martha. "Your answer?" + +Martha did not look at him. "No," she replied simply. + +Gordon drew in his breath quickly, and the concentrated anger seemed +almost ready to burst its bonds. He stood looking at her intently for a +moment, then apparently realizing that he was unable to alter her +decision, he threw up his hands with a despairing gesture and started +toward the door. + +"There will be no performance, Weldon," he said roughly. "Dismiss the +audience, pay everybody their salaries, and wind up the whole cursed +business. I have sunk twenty thousand dollars for a hobby and a pretty +face, but now, thank God, I'm through. I'm cured. That's +all--good-night." + +"One moment before you go," cried Martha, stung to the quick. "You may +have dazzled other girls before with your golden shower. You may have +rung up curtains on success, and claimed your reckoning, but this time, +even though you have brought me failure and humiliation, you may mark +one failure for yourself. Good-night." And with a proud gesture of +independence, she turned her back upon him, and went into her +dressing-room, while Gordon, with a muttered exclamation, left the +green-room for the front of the theater. + +As quickly as possible the despairing Weldon gave the necessary orders. +The moment the players understood there would be no performance, +pandemonium broke loose. In an instant the green-room was filled with a +crowd of excited players in oddly contrasting costumes, all chattering +away for dear life. + +"No performance?" cried Flossie Forsythe. "What does it all mean?" + +"Ain't I ever going to play a real part?" wailed Pinkie. + +"My first time on Broadway, too," said Arthur Mortimer, sadly. + +"I never heard of such an outrageous proceeding," shouted Arnold +Lawrence, pompously. "No performance, indeed? I was engaged for the +season, and I shall sue for a season's salary." + +"You were engaged for the run of the play," retorted Weldon, +indignantly. "If the play doesn't have a run you are entitled to +nothing, but I give you and every one else two weeks' salary." + +"It is an insult to an artist," insisted Lawrence, turning to a group of +the dissatisfied and disappointed players. + +Suddenly the door through the boxes was thrown open and Clayton entered. + +"What does it all mean?" he demanded. "The theater is crowded with a lot +of people who want to know the reason for the sudden announcement. Why +will there be no performance?" he added, drawing Weldon aside. + +"I had to do it, Mr. Clayton," explained Weldon, privately. "You see it +is not my production--I had to obey the orders of my financial backer." + +"You mean--" + +"Gordon. Yes." + +"I see. Affairs came to a climax to-night," said Clayton. "I suspected +something underhanded, but I didn't believe even Gordon capable of such +a trick." He paused an instant. "Look here, Weldon, is this theater +leased in your name?" + +"Certainly," replied Weldon, promptly. + +"Then you could give the performance if you wanted to?" + +"But Mr. Gordon will not pay the bills unless I carry out his orders," +protested Weldon. + +Clayton slapped him eagerly on the back. "Then carry out my orders," he +cried enthusiastically, "and I will pay the bills." + +"You?" Weldon's eyes lit up with renewed interest. He saw before him +another prospective backer to take the place of the one who had just +deserted him. "You? Of course it _could_ be done, Clayton, the lease is +in my name." + +"Then that's settled," declared Clayton, quickly. "You know me and you +know my checks are good. Quick--send some one out to make an +announcement to the audience that there _will_ be a performance." + +As the stage manager hurriedly started toward the curtain, Lawrence, +who had overheard this dialogue, strutted toward Clayton. + +"All very good," he cried pompously. "But what about my salary?" + +"How much do you get?" inquired Clayton. + +Lawrence came close to him. "Four hundred a week," he whispered. + +Clayton turned to Weldon. "How much does this man get, Weldon?" he +inquired. + +"Seventy a week," Weldon answered quickly. + +Lawrence fairly fumed with rage, while the members of the company +tittered. + +"The terms of my contract are sacred and confidential," he protested. "I +accepted the reduced salary only because it is late in the season. You +had no right to expose the secrets of our contract." + +Clayton laughed. "I'll give you a hundred if you go on and give a good +performance," he volunteered. "Weldon, make out the salary list of this +company, and I'll give you a check covering two weeks' salaries for each +member of the organization. Figure up how much the theater costs, and +whatever Gordon hasn't paid, I will. Now, everybody get ready for the +first act, and ring up the curtain." + +Martha, alone in her dressing-room, had heard Clayton giving his +peremptory commands. Half dazed yet at the sudden apparent collapse of +the play, she scarcely realized that defeat was even now being turned +into victory. But the command to get ready for the act awoke her from +her lethargy. + +"Mr. Clayton," she cried, coming to him, "how can you do all this?" + +"I'm not as rich as Gordon," he replied, looking at her a bit +reproachfully. "Not by a long shot, but I guess you can star for a night +anyway, Martha, even with a one-horse angel." + +"You are not doing all this for me? Why, it would be better to let the +whole thing be a total failure than to take such a risk." + +"I am doing it because it pleases me," explained Clayton. "And because I +want you to have every chance for success that they tried to rob you +of." + +"Just wish me luck?" asked Martha, softly, holding out her hand. + +"I wish you everything you wish yourself," he replied. + +"The curtain is up, Miss Farnum," cried Lizzie, entering for a moment +from the stage. "It is nearly time for your entrance." + +"Wish me success," pleaded Martha, again. + +"Is that all you wish for?" asked Clayton, going with her toward the +stage. "If that is all you wish, I hope from the bottom of my heart you +will win it to-night." + +Martha withdrew her hand, turned, and half smiled, just before stepping +upon the stage. + +"I wonder if it is?" she said wistfully, and in another moment Clayton +heard a roll of applause go over the house as she stepped before the +footlights. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE MORNING AFTER + + +White and gold were the decorations of Martha's apartment in the +Webster--all white and gold except the dainty bedroom, which was in +pink. Visitors, however, saw only the white and gold of the parlor and +the drawing-room, with perhaps an occasional glimpse into the dark-oak +dining-room. + +The first streaks of early dawn, penetrating the crevices behind the +heavy, drawn curtains, cast a few shadows, and in the dim light one +might have seen a dozen baskets of flowers, mostly orchids and roses, +ranged about the drawing-room. + +It must have been almost nine o'clock when Lizzie, entering from the +maid's room, drew the curtains and flooded the white and gold parlor +with rich, warm sun-light. The curtains of the bedroom were still drawn, +but evidently Martha was wide awake, for a voice called from the inner +room. + +"Is that you, Lizzie?" + +"Yes, Miss Martha," replied the maid. "It's 'most nine o'clock. Shall I +get you the papers?" + +Martha, hastily throwing on a pink dressing-gown, entered the parlor. +Her eyes were still heavy, and her face was drawn and troubled. + +"I've had a wretched night," she said, dropping into a great arm-chair. +"I couldn't sleep. After that terrible ordeal--" + +"Terrible?" repeated Lizzie, aghast. "Lord, Miss, I heard all the stage +hands say the show was great. The actors are the only ones I heard roast +it at all." + +"I'm afraid I made a terrible mistake," sighed Martha. "I tried to do +things too quickly. I was ambitious, but I forgot that the race is not +always to the swift. I should have spent years and years in preparation +before attempting last night. Of course I was misled by the management, +who made me believe I was being promoted because of my ability." + +"And wasn't that the truth?" demanded Lizzie. + +Martha smiled wanly. "I can't explain now," she said. "I know I never +realized until after last night what an absolute failure I had been." + +"Oh, don't say that, Miss Martha," protested Lizzie. "Look at the +applause you got, and all these flowers." + +"Applause and flowers--that's all failures ever get," and Martha shook +her head wearily. "The end of my dreams has come. I shall close the +theater to-night." + +"Lord, Miss Martha," cried Lizzie, "don't be hasty. Ah," as a knock +sounded on the door, "there are the papers. Shall I open them up for +you?" + +"I can find the notices easily enough," said Martha, taking the papers. +"I am sure the horrid headlines will stare me in the face. Mr. Clayton +tried to encourage me last night, but I am sure the verdict will be +against me." + +"I wouldn't bother with the papers if I felt that way, Miss Martha. Lots +of the actors at Mrs. Anderson's said they never read no criticisms, but +once in a great while when an actor got a good line, I always noticed +he'd find a way to read it aloud at the supper table." + +"By the way, Lizzie," said Martha, suddenly, "is Mrs. Anderson's full +now, do you suppose?" + +"It wasn't yesterday." + +"Do you suppose I could get my old room again?" + +"Your old room?" cried the amazed Lizzie. "Why, that's no place for a +real actress." + +Martha sighed again and tried to smile. "But I'm not a real actress and +I must find a cheaper place. Pack up to-day. Better 'phone the hotel +office at once that we shall leave in an hour." + +Lizzie went to the 'phone while Martha opened the newspapers. She turned +the pages idly until she found the headlines she sought, and for a +moment read in silence. Suddenly she sprang to her feet and threw the +papers on the floor. + +"Infamous," she cried bitterly. "Why need they be so cruel? I won't read +another line." + +At that moment there was a knock at the door, and Pinkie, resplendent in +a new tailor-made gown, brilliantly red, burst into the room. + +"Just rushed in to tell you how perfectly grand you were last night, and +what perfectly lovely things the papers said about me," she cried. "Of +course, that smart critic on the _American_ might have said I had +improved a little, but then he said I was just as artistic when playing +lines as when I was only in the sextette. Nice, wasn't it?" + +Martha smiled. "What did the _Journal_ say?" she asked. + +"Oh, something nice--I don't quite remember," evaded Pinkie. + +"And the _Herald_?" + +"Success!" cried Pinkie. "But I think it's a shame what some of them +said about you, Martha. It isn't so at all." + +"Never mind, dear," said Martha, somewhat wearily. "We did the best we +could." + +"The trouble was the play was bad," continued Pinkie. "Don't know what +that author meant by putting me only in one act, and then letting +Flossie come on twice to interrupt my scenes. But come along, +Martha--you must put some powder on that nose if you expect to live +through another day. I'll help you dress." + +[Illustration: "THIS IS INFAMOUS, INFAMOUS! I WON'T READ ANOTHER +LINE."] + +Half an hour later, as Martha had almost completed her toilette, Lizzie +interrupted to say that the hotel clerk wanted to send some one up to +look at the apartment--a newly married couple. Would it disturb Miss +Farnum? If so, they would make the couple call again. + +"Certainly not," replied Martha. "Show them around yourself. I'll be +ready to leave in a few minutes." + +Some three minutes later, Mr. "Marky" Zinsheimer and his bride, formerly +Miss Flossie Forsythe, were ushered into the white and gold apartment, +entirely ignorant of the fact that it was occupied by Miss Farnum. Mr. +and Mrs. Zinsheimer having been married a little more than one hour, +were already looking for a dove-cote for their honeymoon. + +"This might suit us all right--" began Zinsheimer, when Flossie +interrupted him with a shriek. + +"Bless my soul, if it ain't Lizzie," shrieked Flossie. + +"Lizzie?" repeated Zinsheimer. "What are you doing here?" + +"Why, this is Miss Farnum's apartment," explained the maid. "I'll tell +her you're here, Miss Forsythe--" + +"Mrs. Zinsheimer, if you please," responded that young lady, haughtily. +"We were married this morning." + +"Fact," admitted Zinsheimer. "I always liked you best, Flossie, until +you got mad at me because I helped Pinkie, but when I saw you playing +the demure little maid last night, with Pinkie lording it all over you, +and you never answering back, I said: 'There's the girl for me.' So I +waited at the stage door, and when you came out I grabbed you and we sat +up so late at Jack's that it was morning before we finished talking +things over. So then there was only one thing to do--get married." + +"Sure, you both look happy," said Lizzie. + +"And we are happy, aren't we, Marky?" cried Flossie. "I'm going to give +up the stage for good and all." + +"You can have this apartment in an hour," said Lizzie. "Miss Farnum is +giving it up because it's too expensive." + +"Too expensive for her, eh?" smiled Zinsheimer; then he added +confidentially: "I know lots of people who would consider it an honor to +be allowed to pay her rent." + +"Marky," cried Flossie, warningly. "Remember you are a married man now." + +"Marky," to conciliate his bride, took her in his arms and kissed her. +At this psychological moment, Miss Pinkie Lexington emerged from the +boudoir. She shrieked at the sight. + +"Marky," she cried. "You here with Flossie?" + +Flossie proudly drew Zinsheimer far from the possibility of contact with +Miss Lexington, and proudly, almost haughtily, threw a defiant look at +her rival. + +"My _husband_, Mr. Zinsheimer," she said. + +Pinkie, with a scream, sank upon the big arm-chair and rocked herself to +and fro. "They are married," she moaned. "They are married." + +"This morning, dear," smiled Flossie, coldly. "Thanks so much for your +congratulations." + +"Married," repeated Pinkie, incredulously. "Married." + +Zinsheimer advanced cautiously, and gave her several encouraging pats on +the shoulder. + +"There, now, don't take on so," he said suavely. "There's other fish in +the sea, almost as good. It isn't half as bad as what they say in the +papers about the play. Listen to this," he added, unfolding a newspaper +and reading: "'A luridly ludicrous exhibition of maudlin mush,' Ach +Gott, what you think of that? 'A misguided author loaded a thirteen-inch +gun to the muzzle with idiotic words and reduced a large and +long-suffering audience to a peppered wreck. As an author, he's a joke. +As a murderer, he has the punch.' What funny fellows those critics are. +Here's what he says about Miss Farnum: 'The star--who, by the way, could +only be observed with the aid of a Lick telescope--was only a shooting +star. She made one faint, fantastic fizzle, then dropped without even a +hiss into the gloom of merciful oblivion. She was not even a meteor, and +only an innate sense of delicacy prevents our calling her a +devil-chaser.' No wonder the ladies love the _Sun_. Now, Pinkie, +listen--here's what he says about _you_." + +"What?" shouted Pinkie. "Does that man dare--" + +"He does. Listen: 'Among the cast appeared Miss Pinkie Lexington, with a +German accent on her Lex; a portly person of the oval type. She looked +like a turnip and acted the part artistically. Had this succulent +vegetable only burst from her scant foliage--but there, who roasts a +turnip?'" + +"Oh, if he were only here now, where I could get my mitts on him," +shouted the frantic Pinkie, springing to her feet. "Oh, let me go. I am +stifling. Thank heaven, the air outside at least is pure." And Pinkie +stormed from the room. + +Flossie gazed after the retreating form of her former chum. + +"Good exit, that," she observed. "Pinkie really ought to go in for +melodrama." + +Martha, who had heard enough of the commotion to realize what was going +on, entered and congratulated both Flossie and Mr. Zinsheimer. + +"Sorry you are leaving this place," volunteered "Marky." "Any--er--money +troubles?" + +"None whatever, thank you," replied Martha. "I am going to leave the +stage and go back to my old home in Indiana." + +"Leave the stage?" gasped Flossie. + +"If you ever need assistance, you know"--"Marky" coughed +confidentially. + +[Illustration: "SHE LOOKED LIKE A TURNIP AND ACTED THE PART +ARTISTICALLY."] + +"Thank you. Good-bye," replied Martha, smiling. + +"Marky," pouted Flossie, "I think we'd better be going. Come--you +promised to buy me a lot of new things this morning. Hurry up, _angel_." + +"Angel?" repeated Zinsheimer. "That's just what I would like to be, but +she won't let me. All right, Flossie, I'm coming." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE FINAL RECKONING + + +Gordon, too, had spent a restless night. Leaving the theater abruptly +after giving orders to dismiss the audience, he had driven furiously to +his club. There, in the seclusion of the grill-room and in a niche not +far removed from the bar, he had endeavored to alleviate his +disappointment by partaking of many gin rickeys. Late at night some of +his friends interrupted him at this amusement to tell him of the new +play at the Globe. + +"New play?" he repeated. "Why, the theater wasn't open." + +"Sure it was," replied one of his companions. "But they might as well +have kept it closed. Beastly piece, hackneyed stuff, stale jokes, bad +company, and the star--piffle. Nice enough little girl, you know, very +pretty and all that, but she can't act for sour apples." + +Gordon listened in surprise. "You mean to say," he demanded, "that +Martha Farnum appeared at the Globe to-night?" + +"Surest thing you know," his friend replied. "I was there and saw her." + +Thereupon Gordon had hunted up Weldon, bitterly assailed him for his +treachery, and learned the whole truth of Clayton's interference. The +fact that the girl had won out against him worried him. People didn't +usually triumph over his bulldog tenacity and obstinate determination. +However, when the morning broke, he felt that he must have another +interview with the girl. If he had been mistaken in her--if she really +had the divine spark, after all, or something in its place which helped +her to face that unsympathetic audience the night before--he wanted to +discover it, too. Therefore, shortly after Martha had finished packing, +he was announced, and told to come up. + +"I really ought not to see you, Mr. Gordon," said Martha, simply, in a +businesslike tone. "But there are certain things that must be said +before I go away." + +"Where are you going?" cried Gordon, in surprise. + +"Home--to Indiana." + +"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely. "You are going away with that +man Clayton." + +"That is not true," replied Martha, with heat. + +"Well, you ought to feel grateful to him for letting you appear last +night, after I had stopped you." + +In spite of herself, Martha couldn't resist the inclination to smile, +but it was a wan smile. + +"I wish he had stopped me, too," she said. + +"Oh, do you? And yet you turned from me, who can give you everything, +to him, who can give you nothing." + +"He has given me more than you can ever offer." + +"What?" + +"The right to a friendship that is good and true. I am glad you came +this morning, for we must have a settlement." + +"A settlement? How?" + +"I to keep what is mine, and to return that which is yours." + +"Return what?" + +"Every penny you have spent in this mad scheme must be returned to you. +I don't know how, or when, but I will work to earn the money and repay +every cent. I will not be in your debt." + +The telephone bell rang. Martha answered it. + +"If you are expecting visitors--" Gordon said. + +"It is only Mr. Clayton and I want you to see him," she said. + +"Clayton again, eh? How long have you been friends?" + +"I met him the same day I met you, at French Lick. He took an interest +in me, in a business way, and loaned me the money I needed to come here +and study for the stage. Every dollar of that debt has been repaid long +since, but he is still a friend, tried and true, and one who would never +have been guilty of your treachery of last night." + +Clayton entered jauntily. He seemed somewhat surprised at seeing Gordon. + +"Little business council?" he said easily. + +"It happens to be something more," explained Martha. "I have pointed out +to Mr. Gordon that there must be a final settlement between us." + +"Just what I was going to say," replied Clayton, sitting on the arm of +the great chair. "You see, Gordon, it is absolutely necessary that Miss +Farnum--or some one else on her behalf--should return to you every +dollar you have spent on her. As for what you actually lost in the +starring venture--" + +"Oh, I see," sneered Gordon. "A change of managers?" + +"No," declared Martha. "I have had my chance, and I have failed. +To-night the theater will be closed." + +"Well, that's wise, at any rate," said Gordon. "So it's merely a change +of angels--with you, Clayton, to pay the bills?" + +"Hereafter," said Clayton, calmly, "it will be my pleasure and my +privilege to pay all of Miss Farnum's bills for life. She has promised +to be my wife." + +"What?" cried Martha, in surprise. + +"Your wife?" demanded Gordon. + +"Precisely," continued Clayton. "I bid higher than anything you can +offer, Gordon. My bid includes a wedding ring." + +Gordon stepped back, looked from Martha to Clayton, and back again to +the girl, who stood, confused and embarrassed, with her eyes turned +toward the floor. Then the innate refinement and the result of years of +breeding asserted itself in Gordon's pale face. He stepped forward +seriously to Martha. + +"Miss Farnum," he said, humbly and sincerely, "better men than _I_ have +made mistakes. May I wish you every happiness? The same to you, Clayton, +with all my heart. Good-bye." + +He turned and walked from the room. Not until he had gone did Martha +dare to look Clayton squarely in the face. + +"I was going to write you this morning," she said, "to tell you that I +am going home." + +"Without your manager's permission? Not even a two weeks' notice?" + +"Do be serious, please," she pleaded. Then with a sudden outburst of +passion: "I've failed in everything I ever tried." + +"You haven't failed in my eyes," declared Clayton, taking her hand, +while she turned away from him. "You have merely missed one opportunity +you had dreamed of." + +"Yesterday I dreamed, but to-day I am awake. I am going home." + +Clayton reached over and took her other hand, then swung her around so +that she faced him and could not evade his direct glance. + +"Didn't I tell Gordon I was going to marry you?" he demanded. "I've run +out of all my other fads, and now my latest fad is trying to run away +from me." + +Martha gazed up at him coquettishly. "You mean you want to marry me just +to see what I'll do?" she pouted. + +"That's one of the reasons, not to mention loving you," replied Clayton, +in a brisk, businesslike tone. "Well?" + +Martha paused a moment. "Do you remember," she asked, "once you said the +greatest success meant nothing if the right person did not share it with +you?" + +"Yes." + +"You were right. And now I know that the greatest failure also means +nothing, if the right person _does_ share it with you." + +Clayton held out his arms entreatingly. + +"I think I'm going to like my latest fad immensely," he whispered. + +"And I shall try to stick longer than any of the others, even the +postage stamps," she answered, as she nestled in his arms. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Star for a Night, by Elsie Janis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STAR FOR A NIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 33785.txt or 33785.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/7/8/33785/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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