STAR 
 
 FOR A NIGHT 
 
 ELSIE 
 JAN IS 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
A STAR FOR A NIGHT 
 
*;* 
 
ELSIE JANIS IN A F*;\V 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 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 WILLIAM RICKEY & COMPANY 
 1911 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
Copyright, 19 1 1, by 
 BRUCE EDWARDS 
 
 Copyright, 1 91 1, 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 
 or 
 
 A STAR FOR A NIGHT 
 
 Produced at Charles Dillingham 's Globe Theatre, 
 New York 
 
 Gue t fS at 
 
 " MARKY " ZINSHEIMER 
 
 MRS. BLACKMAN! 
 
 MRS. GILDAY 
 
 MRS. MARTIN 
 
 MRS. CARLIN j 
 
 BELL-BOY 
 
 MRS. DAINTON 
 
 VICTOR WELDON 
 
 SANFORD GORDON 
 
 FELICE ) Mrs. Dainton's 
 
 MURRAY f servants 
 FLOSSIE FORSYTHE 
 
 MRS. KlLPATRICK 
 
 MARTHA FARNUM 
 
 " PINKIE " LEXINGTON 
 
 GEORGE CLAYTON 
 
 LIZZIE 
 
 ARTHUR MORTIMER 
 
 MRS. JANE ANDERSON 
 
 MESSENGER BOY 
 
 ARNOLD LAWRENCE 
 
 PHIL HUMMER 
 
 Mr. Joseph Cawthorn 
 f Miss Jane Bliss 
 
 IMiss Pauline Hathaway 
 Miss Josephine Lachmar 
 Miss Henrietta Pouts 
 Mr. Al Stuart 
 Miss Harriet Sterling 
 Mr. Ralph Nairn 
 Mr. Stanley H. Forde 
 < Miss Josephine Kernell 
 1 Mr. Jack Sullivan 
 Miss Elisabeth Brice 
 Miss Margaret King 
 Miss Elsie Janis 
 Miss Julia Frary 
 Mr. Wallace McCutcheon 
 Miss Olive Quimby 
 Mr. Gene Revere 
 Miss Queenie Vassar 
 Master Albert Lams on 
 Mr. Charles Judels 
 Mr. Charles King 
 
 Business Manager 
 Stage Manager 
 
 J. CLYDE RIGBY 
 E. C DONNELLY 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "Zinsheimer, of New York" . . i 
 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. Kil- 
 
 patrick'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 In 
 diana, 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 cen 
 ters of civilization that only wealthy in 
 ebriates 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 
 i 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 af 
 fords to the weary traveler. Patrons who 
 have stopped at the City Hotel in Mar- 
 shalltown, Iowa, or the Commercial 
 House in Joplin, Missouri, may wonder 
 how such a tiny town supports such a gi 
 gantic hotel, but the rural spectators at the 
 railroad station, who have seen the trains 
 
"Zinsheimer, of New York" 
 
 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 con 
 sequences 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 vicin 
 ity 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 
 
 3 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 
 1'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 re 
 ceived. Forty-two years old, with a blond 
 German personality which manifested it 
 self 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. 
 
 Mr. Zinsheimer's natural good humor 
 was disturbed even before he made his en 
 trance into the sun parlor. In the first 
 4 
 
MABKY" ZINSHEIMER (JOSEPH CAWTHORN) 
 
"Zinshcimer, of New York" 
 
 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 va 
 cation 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, din 
 ner and supper, to say nothing of golf, 
 was a trifle wearing. 
 
 The third reason for Mr. Zinsheimer's 
 perturbation was the discovery, as he en 
 tered 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 
 5 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 fat ladies. Ranged at intervals along the 
 glass-enclosed front were four other equal 
 ly stout ladies, lolling back in equally com 
 fortable chairs, some reading, some doz 
 ing. Mr. Zinsheimer, who had anticipated 
 a pleasant morning reading the New York 
 papers, was obviously annoyed. Fortu 
 nately, he knew the proper method of at 
 tacking 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 somno 
 lent and rotund lady in one of the rockers 
 started up furiously as another whiff 
 drifted in her direction. A page-boy en 
 tering at this particular moment was hur 
 riedly 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, "smok 
 ing is not permitted here." 
 
 Mr. Zinsheimer frowned. 
 
 "I did not ask permission," he replied. 
 6 
 
"Zinsheimcr, of New York" 
 
 Two of the stout ladies gathered up 
 their magazines, glowered at the placid 
 Zinsheimer and the nonplussed boy, mur 
 mured "Wretch," and departed. 
 
 "But I mean, there's no smoking here," 
 continued the boy. 
 
 "Marky" Zinsheimer blew a particu 
 larly 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 ab 
 sorbed in their game that they did not no 
 tice 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. 
 
 7 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "And mine," responded the other, fol 
 lowing 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," re 
 sponded the irrepressible "Marky," offer 
 ing 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 sur- 
 8 
 
"Zinsheimer, of New York" 
 
 prise, and Miss Flossie Forsythe, engag 
 ing, 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 no 
 ticed you talking to that swell chap Gor 
 don 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. 
 
 9 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 orig 
 inal 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 care 
 fully, 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: 
 10 
 
"Zinsheimcr, of New York" 
 
 "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 Lex 
 ington," 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 beau 
 tiful. Anyhow, the show she's with has 
 gone on the rocks up near Indianapolis, 
 and Pinkie has been left high and dry with 
 
 out a cent." 
 
 ii 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 reflect 
 ively. 
 
 "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 en- 
 12 
 
"Zinsheimer, of New York" 
 
 trance of a bell-boy with a telegram for 
 "Miss Forsythe." " 
 
 "That's me, boy," cried Flossie, grab 
 bing the envelope and tearing it open. 
 "It's from Pinkie and she'll be here on the 
 3 130 train," she explained, turning to Zin 
 sheimer. "Boy, call me a carriage." 
 
 "Yes, Miss," responded the boy, mov 
 ing toward the office. 
 
 "And have it charged to rny 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. 'Til speak to 
 the manager, Flossie, but I know who'll 
 pay the bill." 
 
 "You old dear," cried Flossie, and in 
 13 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 another moment the rattling chatelaines, 
 the vague and unrecognizable perfume, the 
 rustling skirts and the fascinating Flossie 
 flitted along the veranda toward the wait 
 ing 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 ac 
 tress, had the artistic temperament. Mrs. 
 Dainton had nerves. Mrs. Dainton had 
 many other things which an imported for 
 eign star anxious to create a sensation 
 might be expected to have. For instance, 
 she had Fuzzy-Wuzzy, the petite Pomer 
 anian poodle which never left her night or 
 day. She had her personal manager, Vic 
 tor Weldon, to act as valet for the dog by 
 daytime, and attend to occasional business 
 details. There were also two maids Liz.- 
 ette, the French maid, whose duties were 
 of a personal nature at hotels; and Jo 
 hanna, the German maid, who assisted at 
 the theater. Furthermore, there was a 
 
 15 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 coun 
 try curate in her native England, condi 
 tions 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 allur 
 ingly 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 tempera 
 ment for the hardships that must be en 
 countered, but with Mrs. Dainton the 
 struggle for success had been aided ma 
 terially 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 Lon- 
 16 
 
The English Actress 
 
 don 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 eccen 
 tricities were always excused by her per 
 sonal manager as "Madame's tempera 
 ment." 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 chil 
 dren. She is always so generous, so con 
 siderate." 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 af 
 fect the box-office receipts. 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 consid 
 erate 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 yes 
 terday." 
 
 "I have already complained once " be 
 gan 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 com 
 plaints." 
 
 Sanford Gordon, the least obtrusive fig 
 ure of the little cavalcade, and the one 
 who, for personal reasons, least desired a 
 scene which might find its way into the 
 18 
 
The English Actress 
 
 newspapers, stepped forward to calm the 
 irate actress. Once, rumor said, Sanford 
 Gordon had been able to calm her impetu 
 ous 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 manage 
 ment, 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 be 
 gan 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 pleas 
 ure in turning upon him suddenly. 
 
 "How do you know how long I may 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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. Vic 
 tor, you must not let this happen again." 
 
 "I will do my best, Mrs. Dainton," re 
 plied Victor. 
 
 "Marky" Zinsheimer, covertly throw 
 ing 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 bet 
 ter. I really think you had better com 
 plain to the manager, Victor, about this 
 person." 
 
 "My name is Zinsheimer," bowed 
 "Marky," smiling amiably. "Well-known 
 20 
 
The English Actress 
 
 first-nighter in New York go to all the 
 theaters maybe you've heard of me. I'm 
 known everywhere along Broadway. Per 
 haps 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 after 
 thought. 
 
 "Really?" repeated Mrs. Dainton, lan 
 guidly. "Such things do not interest me in 
 the least. I never think of the sordid de 
 tails 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 com 
 posure deserted him. He backed away 
 carefully from this wonderful creation. 
 
 "She lives only for her art, eh?" he mur 
 mured softly. "I got you you'll die 
 young," he added to himself, as he drew 
 another cigar from his pocket, ostenta 
 tiously lighted it, and strolled out onto the 
 veranda. 
 
 21 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 at 
 mosphere while that lazy chauffeur pre 
 tends 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, cold 
 ly. "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 urns baby heartsums. Urns 
 22 
 
The English Actress 
 
 'ittle Fuzzy- Wuzzy is mamma's pet, isn't 
 urns?" 
 
 "The motor is ready now, Madame," 
 ventured Victor stolidly. 
 
 Mrs. Dainton handed the dog to Jo 
 hanna. 
 
 "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 
 23 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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?" in 
 quired 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 differ 
 ently." 
 
 Mrs. Dainton turned on him, her man 
 ner 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 exist 
 ence 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." 
 
 24 
 
The English Actress 
 
 "That's not true," broke in Gordon. "I 
 always loved you." 
 
 "But we parted," continued Mrs. Dain- 
 ton, bitterly. "And if I had returned, need 
 ing 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, lay 
 ing 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!" 
 
 251 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 un 
 certain age, who clenched his hands tight 
 ly, 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 re 
 sponsive 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 in 
 variably occupied a wheel-chair, the mo 
 tive power for which was furnished by a 
 most attractive young girl always clad in 
 simple black. The girl was about nine 
 teen, slender, graceful, with the clear and 
 27 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 sug 
 gestion of color about her costume. Yet 
 there seemed a certain lightness and gay- 
 ety in her face which conveyed the impres 
 sion that sadness was not a component fac 
 tor in her life. She smiled as, hour after 
 hour, she read to the invalid on the ver 
 anda, 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 week 
 end 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." 
 
 Whereupon the aforesaid traveling 
 28 
 
OH, THAT'S Miss FARNUM. SHE'S OLD 
 
 MRS. KlLPATKK'K'S COMPANION." 
 
Introducing Martha Farnum 
 
 gentleman, disappointed at the obvious im 
 possibility 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 rea 
 sons. 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 Far 
 num had been the companion of Mrs. Kil- 
 patrick, a wealthy invalid from Marion, a 
 small town near Indianapolis. Mrs. Kil- 
 patrick was suffering from sciatic rheuma 
 tism, and her physician had recommended 
 a stay at the Springs. To her objection 
 that both her sons were too busy to ac 
 company her, and that she knew no one 
 29 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 mod 
 est, well-bred and well-educated, with just 
 two faults" he smiled at Mrs. Kilpat- 
 rick's hesitation "she's very pretty and 
 very poor." 
 
 Martha had been sent for, the arrange 
 ments 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 at 
 tended 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. 
 
 30 
 
Introducing Martha Farnum 
 
 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 pri 
 vations and discomforts, to what seemed 
 to her a fairyland of lights, music, beauti 
 ful gowns and jewels, and the wasteful ex 
 travagance 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 dis 
 may, 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 in 
 tended to send her away to boarding- 
 school at Logansport; she had even passed 
 her entrance examinations. Then, all that 
 
 31 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 fright 
 ened 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 after 
 noon, 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 voy 
 age will be beneficial. He suggests that I 
 spend the coming winter in some warm cli 
 mate, preferably Italy, and I have decided 
 to do so." 
 
 Although uncertain as to just how it 
 affected her, Martha could not restrain 
 32 
 
Introducing Martha Farnum 
 
 her pleasure and excitement at the possible 
 thought of going. She clasped her hands 
 convulsively, her eyes lighted up with an 
 ticipation, 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 sis 
 ter, 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 some 
 thing 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 an 
 other position for you, child," said Mrs. 
 Kilpatrick. 
 
 "Perhaps. Anyway, I must make my 
 own living," declared Martha, with convic- 
 
 33 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 tion. "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 con 
 cluded, 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 
 
 34 
 
Introducing Martha Farnum 
 
 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 collec 
 tion?" 
 
 "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 in 
 dicated that, while he might not be "the 
 hope of the white race" from a pugilistic 
 35 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 hav 
 ing 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. 
 
 36 
 
Introducing Martha Farnum 
 
 u 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 prob 
 ably envy them." 
 
 u 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 
 
 37 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 suf 
 fered?" 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 
 
 38 
 
Introducing Martha Farnum 
 
 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 lug 
 gage, 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. 
 39 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "I haven't seen you since the Comptpn 
 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 hand 
 somely then, fyut like all these women, they 
 think because I'm rich I am an easy mark. 
 Now, if you'll see me in New York may 
 be we can come to terms." 
 
 "I fancy not," replied Clayton, briefly. 
 
 Gordon's eyes, even during this brief 
 40 
 
Introducing Martha Farnum 
 
 conversation, had never left Martha, 
 whose attention was given to her scarabs. 
 
 "Deuced pretty girl !" remarked Gor 
 don, quietly, to Clayton. "You might in 
 troduce me." 
 
 "Are you leaving the hotel ?" 
 
 "Yes in a few minutes." 
 
 "Then I've no objection. Miss Far 
 num, 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 leav 
 ing 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. Kil- 
 patrick." 
 
 Gordon's face showed his disappoint 
 ment. 
 
 "Oh, I say," he murmured. "A paid 
 companion? Anyhow, she's deuced good- 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 looking." He glanced back at Martha, 
 then turned. "See you in New York, Clay 
 ton, 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 ex 
 amining another scarab, "opinions differ 
 as to her greatness." 
 
 "But she must make an awful lot of 
 money," insisted Martha. 
 
 "She spends an awful lot" 
 42 
 
Introducing Martha Farnunt 
 
 "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 Clay 
 ton. "Nonsense !" 
 
 "I don't see why it is nonsense," cried 
 Martha, rising to her feet so suddenly 
 that Clayton h?,d 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 For- 
 sythe, who dresses so loudly, earns a lot." 
 
 43 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 sta 
 tion 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 inde 
 pendent 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 determi 
 nation. 
 
 '44 
 
Introducing Martha Farnum 
 
 "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. Kil- 
 patrick 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 
 
 45 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 diffi 
 cult, 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 sudden 
 ly 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. Kil- 
 46 
 
Introducing Martha Farnum 
 
 patrick is in parlor A. She said she would 
 be glad to see you a little later." 
 
 Clayton bowed. "And I won't say fare 
 well," he said, "as I'll surely see you at 
 dinner." 
 
 "The stage," repeated Martha, dream 
 ily, 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?" 
 
 47 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 A GLIMPSE INTO THE PAST 
 
 u Tnis 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 instinc 
 tively think of her own somewhat be 
 draggled 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 
 49 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 unusu 
 ally 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 con 
 trast with poor Pinkie's poverty. 
 
 But Pinkie sighed with contentment. 
 Notwithstanding a few personal deficien 
 cies of dress and adornment, it was a re 
 lief 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 
 50 
 
A Glimpse into the Past 
 
 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 
 51 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 junc 
 ture, and Pinkie was formally introduced 
 to the generous feather importer. She 
 started to cry as he patted her hand cor 
 dially, 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 help 
 less and alone." 
 
 "There, there, now, don't cry," pro- 
 52 
 
A Glimpse into the Past 
 
 tested "Marky." "Your Uncle Marky 
 will see that you don't go hungry this 
 trip." 
 
 At this point Flossie dexterously in 
 serted 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," sug 
 gested Zinsheimer. "Maybe we can win 
 enough to get Pinkie a new outfit, eh?" 
 And he looked doubtfully over the some 
 what 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 Indian 
 apolis 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 encourag 
 ingly. "Come over to the Casino," he 
 53 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 Ca 
 sino. At the head of the stairway the trio 
 almost collided with Mrs. Dainton's foot 
 man, 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, tak 
 ing their cue, broke forth into peals of 
 merry laughter, while Zinsheimer so 
 guicjed 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. 
 
 54 
 
A Glimpse into the Past 
 
 "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 re 
 hearse here." 
 
 Weldon could not refrain from an aud 
 ible 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 " ex 
 postulated Weldon. 
 
 55 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "Send them back to New York and get 
 another lot." 
 
 "But that will be very expensive." 
 
 "What of that?" inquired Mrs. Dain- 
 ton, 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 man 
 agement." And scarcely able to conceal 
 his indignation at this latest whim, Wel 
 don withdrew to telegraph their New 
 York backers the full details of her latest 
 eccentricity. 
 
 Martha Farnum, still holding the maga 
 zine she had recovered, hesitated. Then, 
 struck by a sudden thought, she came for 
 ward 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?" 
 
 56 
 
A Glimpse into the Past 
 
 "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 per 
 fect," 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," con 
 fessed Martha. 
 
 "You mean you have had no experi 
 ence? I'm sorry, but I've made it a rule 
 never to give any young girl her first en 
 gagement on the stage." 
 "But why?" gasped Martha. 
 "Because I don't approve of their going 
 on the stage." 
 
 '57 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 for 
 ward impulsively and took her hands in 
 her own. 
 
 "You don't know all that my success has 
 cost me, my dear," she said simply. "Suc 
 cess 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 my 
 self, 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. 
 
A Glimpse Into the Past 
 
 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 to 
 ward 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 grind 
 ing. 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 Mar 
 tha, wonderingly. 
 
 u Yes, without a word of explanation. 
 The girl didn't know what to do with the 
 money. She could not return it. She fin 
 ally spent it." 
 
 U A hundred dollars !" repeated Martha. 
 
 59 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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.' 1 
 
 "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 ex 
 perience gave her renewed energy. She 
 was determined to triumph in spite of it. 
 And she did. She succeeded. Years after 
 ward she met that man again. She saw 
 60 
 
A Glimpse into the Past 
 
 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, ris 
 ing 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, desperate 
 ly, "some people succeed without pain and 
 unhappiness?" 
 
 61 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 Mrs. Dainton kissed the girl affection 
 ately. 
 
 "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." 
 
 62 
 
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 sim 
 ply. "You wouldn't understand." 
 
 "Am I so dense as all that?" he pro 
 tested. "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 hope 
 fully. "Mr. Clayton," she said, "Mrs. 
 Kilpatrick says you are from New York. 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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. 
 
 u ln 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 prob 
 lem 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 hap 
 piness 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." 
 
Strictly a Business Bargain 
 
 "If you have success, you don't need 
 love," insisted Martha. 
 
 "My dear child/' Clayton tried to ex 
 plain, "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 sud 
 denly. 
 
 "No," admitted Martha, reluctantly. 
 "That is, not much." 
 
 "Then how will you begin?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "You will find money very necessary." 
 
 6s ' 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 deter 
 mined 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, 
 
 66 
 
Strictly a Business Bargain 
 
 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 in 
 terest." 
 
 "But if I fail you have no security." 
 
 "That's my risk. Besides, I've another 
 reason. I have spent enough on the dif 
 ferent 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 under- 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 stood 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 fol 
 low my advice in all things." 
 
 "Won't I even have a minority vote?" 
 pouted Martha. 
 
 "Yes, but the presiding officer can over 
 rule 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 per 
 haps 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 
 68 
 
Strictly a Business Bargain 
 
 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 Clay 
 ton, in a businesslike tone, looking at his 
 watch. "And now I think we'd better get 
 some dinner." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 "WHERE EVERYTHING is HOMELIKE" 
 
 "!F there's one thing I'm proud of about 
 my boarding-house," insisted Mrs. Ander 
 son, when discussing the pension for va 
 grant Thespians which she had conducted 
 for many years, "it's the homelike atmos 
 phere. 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 affec 
 tion 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 main- 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 raining, 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 rela 
 tion 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, 
 72 
 
"Where Everything is Homelike" 
 
 which, as one could see upon close exami 
 nation, 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 pre 
 sided 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 the 
 atrical district. Mrs. Anderson's was but 
 a stone's throw from Broadway, in a house 
 which had once been a feature of the so 
 cial 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 
 
 73 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 were gradually supplanting the older 
 structures. 
 
 For twenty-three years Mrs. Anderson 
 had conducted her homelike establishment. 
 As keenly alert to business now as former 
 ly, 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 per 
 sonally 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, en 
 tered with a card, for Mrs. Anderson had 
 been so absorbed in her work that she had 
 not heard the bell ring. 
 
 "Arthur Mortimer, leading juvenile," 
 read Lizzie, as Mrs. Anderson turned to 
 ward her. "He's in the hall. Say, what's 
 a juvenile f" 
 
 "Refers to the kind of work he does," 
 responded Mrs. Anderson, sharply. 
 
 "Work?" repeated Lizzie, astounded. 
 "Why, he's an actor." 
 74 
 
"Where Everything is Homelike" 
 
 The unconscious sarcasm of the remark 
 was passed unnoticed by Mrs. Anderson. 
 
 Mr. Mortimer turned out to be a pleas 
 ing young chap, smartly but not expen 
 sively dressed, about twenty-two years of 
 age, and very nervous. He twirled his 
 derby in his hands, and seemed quite em 
 barrassed 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 comfort 
 able arm-chair. 
 
 "I graduated last June from the dra 
 matic school, but I haven't done much yet. 
 I couldn't afford expensive rooms " 
 
 "That's all right, Mr. Mortimer," in 
 terrupted Aunt Jane. "I like to have be 
 ginners. They pay their bills. And I only 
 want refined people who behave them 
 selves. Of course a little impromptu friv 
 olity makes every one feel at home, and 
 
 75 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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," con 
 tinued 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 do 
 ing. 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?" 
 
"Where Everything is Homelike" 
 
 "That depends on the price," stam 
 mered Mortimer, rising. 
 
 Lizzie had handed Mrs. Anderson a 
 telegram, and stood waiting for in 
 structions. 
 
 "Lizzie, show Mr. Mortimer the va 
 cant rooms on the third and fourth floors 
 front," directed Aunt Jane, tearing open 
 the dispatch. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Mor 
 timer, do you happen to have a photo 
 graph 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 P'm not famous " protested 
 Mortimer. 
 
 "Never mind you will be some day. 
 You see all these photographs of celebri 
 ties" she waved her hand "all of these 
 people are with me now, except Maude 
 Adams, Ethel Barrymore and one or two 
 77 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 de 
 lighted Mortimer. As he started toward 
 the hall, with Lizzie as his guide, Mrs. 
 Anderson called after them: 
 
 "One moment, Lizzie," she cried, hold 
 ing the telegram. "Mr. Lawrence is com 
 ing 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, beckon 
 ing to the slavey. "Go up to the garret 
 and get me that large picture of Mr. Law 
 rence we had on the piano last time he was 
 here." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 78 
 
"Where Everything is Homelike" 
 
 "Here, take this one with you," added 
 Aunt Jane, craftily, picking up a photo 
 graph of a blond man with curly hair. 
 "It's Jimmy Carlton he's gone to Cali 
 fornia 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 in 
 quired. 
 
 "The very same," answered Mrs. An 
 derson. "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 com- 
 79 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 pelled 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." 
 80 
 
"Where Everything is Homelike" 
 
 "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 tak 
 ing 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 en 
 velope. 
 
 Mrs. Anderson debated about five sec 
 onds whether or not it was her duty to ex 
 amine 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 any 
 thing that would throw light upon the per- 
 81 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 son who was sending so many flowers to 
 her young charge. 
 
 "There's a card inside, sure, and per 
 haps a name," she argued, with easy soph 
 istry. "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 disappoint 
 ment. The card was blank, except for the 
 written words: "From your unknown ad 
 
 mirer." 
 
 "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 ap 
 peared dejected and deserted as she stood 
 in the doorway, last season's walking-suit 
 hanging unevenly from her highly devel- 
 82 
 
"Where Everything is Homelike" 
 
 oped figure and appearing a trifle tight in 
 certain spots. 
 
 "I suppose Marky sent them, 15 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 res 
 cued 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 or 
 chid this season," she said sadly. 
 
 "Never mind, dear," cried Flossie, sink 
 ing 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 
 
 83 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 boobs who send her flowers. Why, she 
 ain't got no style. And she's only a be 
 ginner 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, indig 
 nantly. "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?" in 
 quired Pinkie, innocently. 
 
 "Oh, the lawyers are still fighting." 
 
 "Where is this lawsuit, anyhow?" 
 
 "Oh, somewhere out in British Col 
 umbia. You wouldn't know the name of 
 the town if I told you. If I win, I am go 
 ing to star in musical comedy." 
 
 "And if you lose?" 
 84 
 
] HAVN'T HAD AN ORCHID THIS SEASON." 
 
"Where Everything is Homelike" 
 
 "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, sus 
 piciously. "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 in 
 sinuation. "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 apolo 
 gized, Mrs. Anderson approached a deli 
 cate subject nervously but with a deter 
 mination 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 
 
 85 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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. Ander 
 son, with that ever-present doubt that one 
 always has in dunning delinquents, "but 
 neither of you young ladies has been try 
 ing to get a position." 
 
 "Not trying, indeed," repeated Pinkie. 
 "We go to the managers 1 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 fines." 
 
 "But Martha didn't mind the chorus," 
 cried Mrs. Anderson, warmly. "She be 
 gan at the bottom, and if I do say it my 
 self, I am proud of the way she has 
 succeeded." 
 
 "Succeeded?" repeated Flossie. "I guess 
 86 
 
"Where Everything is Homelike" 
 
 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 dol 
 lars a week in the chorus," laughed Flos 
 sie. "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 the 
 ater. 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 win 
 dows tempted the passer-by most alluring 
 ly, and Martha gazed longingly into many 
 of them, but shook her head resolutely at 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 the mere notion of purchasing anything. 
 This was New York. This was life. 
 At last she, Martha Farnum, an insignifi 
 cant 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 produc 
 tion, "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 ar 
 rived in New York and had taken her to 
 the place, introducing her to Mrs. Ander 
 son 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 invi- 
 
 90 
 
A Hundred-Dollar Bill 
 
 tations 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 with 
 out 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 her 
 self into a large easy-chair, utterly tired, 
 and just a little regretful that she had to 
 dine in the somewhat gloomy, old-fash- 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 ioned 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, sleep 
 ily. "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 unrea 
 sonable ? How could a bit of supper after 
 the show hurt any one? Other girls go." 
 
 "Has your 'unknown admirer' been 
 92 
 
A Hundred-Dollar Bill 
 
 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, read 
 ing 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, 
 93 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 from the directions regarding his note, he 
 evidently deemed a person of some im 
 portance. 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, fol 
 lowed by the surprised Lizzie. 
 94 
 
" MORE FLOWERS ANJ) FROM A MAN I HAVE NEVER SPOKEN TO." 
 
A Hundred-Dollar Bill 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Anderson, grimly, 
 sitting with her arms folded, "I'm 
 waiting." 
 
 "Waiting for what, Aunt Jane?" in 
 quired Martha. 
 
 "For an explanation of this extraordi 
 nary 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 every 
 thing that you could be, dear and thought 
 ful, 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 
 95 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 been here more than twice in the past four 
 months. Am I to blame if I wish some in 
 nocent 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 hun 
 dred-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. 
 
A Hundred-Dollar Bill 
 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 mat 
 ter." Martha turned away and put both 
 letter and hundred-dollar bill into her 
 handbag. 
 
 "It does matter," cried Aunt Jane, in 
 dignation and curiosity battling for su 
 premacy. "This is a very serious thing. 
 If a strange man sends a young girl hun 
 dreds 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." 
 
 97 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "Then why doesn't Mr. Clayton take 
 me to dinner himself?" she cried pas 
 sionately. 
 
 "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." 
 
 "Very well, then," retorted Aunt Jane, 
 98 
 
I REFUSE TO LET YOU GO MARTHA/ 
 
A Hundred-Dollar Bitt 
 
 going toward the library, as the back par 
 lor was ambitiously named. "I'll tele 
 phone 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. An 
 derson. "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 
 99 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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." 
 100 
 
A Hundred-Dollar Bill 
 
 "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. Zin- 
 sheimer. 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?" 
 101 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 al 
 ready 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." 
 
 102 
 
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-look 
 ing chap, whose erect figure was com 
 pletely 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 
 103 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 visitor, shaking his head as he looked 
 around the neat but poorly furnished 
 room, with its supply of theatrical photo 
 graphs and the large picture of Arnold 
 Lawrence, leading man, pn 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 San- 
 ford, turning quickly and clasping her 
 hand with such fervor that Martha un 
 consciously 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." 
 104 
 
San ford Gordon Reappears 
 
 "Only a few trifles" 
 
 "And so I wanted to see you." 
 
 "That was kind of you," replied Gor 
 don, 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 remem 
 bered 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 pres 
 ents 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." 
 
 105 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "Then you haven't spent anything?" ex 
 claimed 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 pleas 
 ure 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 nervous 
 ly and peered curiously at her. Here was 
 a case, indeed, one which the fastidious 
 106 
 
Sanford Gordon Reappears 
 
 Sanford had never previously encountered. 
 A chorus girl to refuse money and pres 
 ents ? Unprecedented ! How the chaps at 
 the club would chaff him if he ever told 
 the story. He the best-known boulevar- 
 dier of Broadway, a welcome guest at 
 every Bohemian gathering, who called ac 
 tors 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 re 
 garded the setting of the sun as the dawn 
 ing 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 unbe 
 lievable. 
 
 "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 
 107 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 profes 
 sion. 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. 
 108 
 
San ford Gordon Reappears 
 
 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 produc 
 tion the leading role is that of a simple 
 little country girl just the sort of in 
 genue 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 sim 
 plicity and naturalness would make you 
 splendidly suited to the role." 
 
 "It sounds like a dream," cried Martha, 
 wonderingly. "Are you sure Mr. Weldon 
 109 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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." 
 no 
 
Sanford Gordon Reappears 
 
 "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," ex 
 claimed 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 board 
 ing-house parlors are so public. And that 
 reminds me you'd better move to some 
 other place where you can have some com 
 fort and decent surroundings." 
 
 "I'm sure this is very nice, and all I 
 in 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 can afford," replied Martha, with some 
 show of spirit. 
 
 u Oh, you can afford better quarters 
 when Weldon engages you to-morrow," 
 replied Gordon. "Your salary will be big 
 ger, 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 par 
 lor. 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, mov 
 ing toward the door. "I suppose you 
 112 
 
San ford Gordon Reappears 
 
 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. An 
 derson, entering to light the gas. "Hasn't 
 she returned yet?" 
 
 "Has Pinkie gone out?" inquired Flos 
 sie, 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 amaze 
 ment. "Will wonders never cease?" 
 
 "I couldn't see who it was," explained 
 Aunt Jane, as the door-bell announced an 
 other visitor. "But I know it was a man." 
 
 "D'je ever hear the like of that?" Flos 
 sie 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 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 gaz 
 ing admiringly at the large photo on the 
 piano. 
 
 "If we cannot have you, Mr. Law 
 rence," declared Mrs. Anderson, feelingly, 
 "it pleases us to always have your photo 
 graph 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." 
 
 "This is another member of our fam- 
 114 
 
AND GJ.AD 1 AM TO BE BACK IX YOUR H< >I'1TABLE HOUSE/ 
 
Sanford Gordon Reappears 
 
 ily," 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 dis 
 appeared into the hall with Mrs. An 
 derson. "Well, wouldn't that give you 
 tonsillitis!" she ejaculated. 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 look 
 ing 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 con 
 cealed her face, and round her shoulders 
 hung an elaborate set of furs. Close be 
 hind 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 ad 
 miration. 
 
 "Stunning, by Jove!" Even Arnold 
 116 
 
Sanford Gordon Reappears 
 
 Lawrence was moved to positive ad 
 miration. 
 
 "I'd like to see the manager who refuses 
 me an engagement when I drag these togs 
 into his office," cried Pinkie, proudly pir 
 ouetting 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, ob 
 viously embarrassed. 
 
 "Mrs. Anderson said you went out rid 
 ing 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 un 
 noticed, 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." 
 117 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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," re 
 sponded 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 chate 
 laines 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. 
 118 
 
Sanford Gordon Reappears 
 
 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." 
 
 119 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 LOVE AND AMBITION 
 
 "AND I can't do a thing with her," con 
 cluded Aunt Jane, in her recital of 
 Martha's shortcomings, while Clayton lis 
 tened with an amused air at the story of 
 his ward's latest adventure. "She's head 
 strong 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 impor 
 tant business engagement at dinner to be 
 121 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 arrange 
 ment 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 viola 
 tion of it. His own self-respect made this 
 122 
 
Love and Ambition 
 
 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 car 
 ing 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 
 123 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 experi 
 ment 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-support 
 ing, 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 cor 
 dial while secretly bored. For Clayton 
 was modest enough to believe that his un 
 assuming airs and reticent ways would 
 124 
 
Love and Ambition 
 
 not prove attractive to a high-spirited girl 
 so many years his junior. 
 
 "What a surprise," cried Martha, en 
 tering the parlor suddenly. She was 
 dressed for the street. In fact, had Clay 
 ton 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 telephon 
 ing 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 instruc- 
 125 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 tions. 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 won 
 der if I ever will?" 
 
 "Of course," cried Clayton, encourag 
 ingly. "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," 
 126 
 
Love and Ambition 
 
 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, sur- 
 127 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 prised. "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 Clay 
 ton, emphatically. 
 
 "And why not, please?" 
 
 "For many reasons," he said, sitting be 
 side 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-dol 
 lar bill. I never knew until to-day who 
 sent them." 
 
 128 
 
Love and Ambition 
 
 "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 man 
 ager, 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." 
 129 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 Liz 
 zie, entering at that moment, "Mr. Gor 
 don 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 Clay 
 ton, who came close to her as though 
 awaiting her decision on a momentous 
 matter. 
 
 "Martha," he asked, "are you still de 
 termined 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 lie has been to the others before 
 you," said Clayton, bitterly, almost sav 
 agely. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 130 
 
Love and Ambition 
 
 "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." Clay 
 ton 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." 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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,' 7 she said, but she laughed 
 when she said it. 
 
 132 
 
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 
 133 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 anon one, two, or even three players, per 
 haps 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 in 
 vading the sacred precincts, and then trem 
 blingly ask the red-haired stenographer on 
 the other side of the rail : 
 
 u ls Mr. Weldon engaging any one?" 
 
 And the red-haired stenographer, in 
 variably without looking up from her ma 
 chine, 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 
 134 
 
The Underground Wires 
 
 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 invita 
 tions even to sit down and wait were few 
 and far between. The "Call to-morrow" 
 slogan was the more usual excuse in get 
 ting rid of applicants. In a profession as 
 overcrowded as the theatrical business 
 there are thirty applicants for every pos 
 sible 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 wish 
 ing 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 
 
 135 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 new show," whereupon the professionals 
 would become more alert at the prospect 
 of "Something doing." Of course, con 
 versely, the mysterious "backers" were im 
 pressed 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 abrupt 
 ly 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 
 
 136 
 
The Underground Wires 
 
 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. After 
 wards, 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 pro 
 duce 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 
 
 137 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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," ex 
 plained 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 at 
 mosphere. 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 Eng 
 lish 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 Gor 
 don. "A few thousand more or less mean 
 
 138 
 
The Underground Wires 
 
 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 ex 
 citedly. 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 Gor 
 don. "The money will be deposited with 
 the Commercial Trust Company to-mor 
 row morning. You will handle this pro- 
 139 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 duction exactly as though it is your own 
 with one exception, my dear Weldon." 
 
 "What is that?" asked Weldon, appre 
 hensively. 
 
 "You will engage for the leading role 
 a young lady I will designate " 
 
 "Ah, now I understand " began Wel 
 don, 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, 
 
 140 
 
The Underground Wires 
 
 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, u can the young lady you wish 
 me to engage really act the part?" 
 
 "I don't know and I don't care," re 
 sponded 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 un 
 known 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 bal 
 anced it with one hand while he took his 
 cane and gloves from the desk. 
 
 "It is immaterial to me, Weldon, 
 141 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 The 
 ater, 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 bet 
 ter, for her sake and for yours. But per 
 sonally I don't give a damn so long as 
 I pull the strings." 
 
 142 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN THE GREEN-ROOM 
 
 TIME: Three months later. 
 
 "Half hour! Half hour I" 
 
 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 sce 
 nery as the stage hands set the first act of 
 "The Village Maid." A curtain was half 
 drawn across the entrance to the adjoining 
 
 143 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 star's room, behind which the faithful Liz 
 zie of the boarding-house, now trans 
 formed 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 fig 
 ure almost hidden beneath a gigantic box 
 of flowers, was escorted through the baize 
 doors by old Pete, the back-door watch 
 man. 
 
 "Put 'em down there, sonny/' directed 
 Pete, pointing toward a couch in the green 
 room. "And then vamoose quick. I get 
 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. 
 
 144 
 
Iri the Gre en-Room 
 
 "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, genuine 
 ly 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 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 '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." 
 
 u lt's wonderful what you learn when 
 you go on the stage," murmured the horri 
 fied Lizzie, after she had chased 735 into 
 the darker regions of the stage. "I won 
 der 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 unobtru 
 sive 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 open 
 ing. This was really Weldon's most am 
 bitious 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 
 146 
 
In the Green-Room 
 
 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 sub 
 dued, for upon his somewhat boyish face 
 there was a cloud of anxiety. He was 
 keen, alert, almost deferential in his atti 
 tude toward the manager, but a certain ex 
 perienced 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 Far- 
 num's approaching stellar debut for in 
 
 *47 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 the new play, be it known, Martha was 
 being "starred." 
 
 A Broadway star ! How often have you 
 read of the wonderful luck of some ob 
 scure chorus girl, called upon in an emer 
 gency 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 at 
 tract 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 seek 
 ing for fame; alas! too often in vain. 
 
 ''Ready to-night for the stellar debut of 
 Miss Martha Farnum," cried Weldon, en 
 thusiastically. u 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 
 148 
 
In the Green-Room 
 
 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 Wel 
 don, when Hummer, with a warning ges 
 ture, 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 mean 
 ingly. "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 
 149 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 else in the company guesses, that you are 
 only the figurehead." 
 
 "The idea!" sputtered Weldon, pom 
 pously. "Don't the bills read: 'Victor Wel 
 don 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 pub 
 lic 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." 
 150 
 
In the Green-Room 
 
 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, turn 
 ing 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 Wel 
 don," he added, turning abruptly from 
 Hummer. 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "This is Mr. Hummer, our press repre 
 sentative," explained Weldon, coming for 
 ward eagerly. 
 
 "Ah, the press agent? Very good," re 
 sponded Gordon, carelessly turning his 
 back on Hummer. 
 
 "Let us say, rather, inciter of public in 
 terest," 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 fur 
 nishing the money for Miss Farnum's star 
 ring 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, de 
 cisively, "it is now almost eight o'clock. 
 When do you ring up the curtain?" 
 
 "At twenty minutes past," replied 
 Weldon. 
 
 152 
 
In the Green-Room 
 
 "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 some 
 thing unusual. "What do you mean?" 
 asked Weldon. 
 
 "Unless things go my way first, that cur 
 tain 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 any 
 thing by it. But if I am to pay the piper 
 for this crazy starring scheme, I want 
 some return for my money. Have the or 
 chestra ring in as usual and play the over 
 ture. 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 ner 
 vously. 
 
 153 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 understand 
 ing before the curtain rises on my latest 
 folly." 
 
 154 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 AN OVERTURE AND A PRELUDE 
 
 U 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, 
 
 155 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 of 
 fered 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 re 
 hearsals. 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?" 
 
An Overture and a Prelude 
 
 "Yes, a number of times, and since you 
 withdrew your restrictions, I have had din 
 ner 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 amaz 
 ingly. And I don't blame you for taking 
 a more comfortable apartment in the Web 
 ster. 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 play 
 ers, 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 up 
 ward in a blaze of glory, the stick must 
 fall." 
 
 "Good heavens, you mustn't anticipate 
 157 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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. "How 
 ever, 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, sud 
 denly 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 dis 
 robe. A moment later, Miss Pinkie Lex 
 ington, made up for the part of a fashion 
 able society woman, entered the green 
 room cautiously, and crossed to the door 
 behind the boxes. 
 
 158 
 
An Overture and a Prelude 
 
 "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 ac 
 cept 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 
 
 159 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 had lines when I was with the Tollies' 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. Re 
 member, I got you this engagement. I 
 asked Martha to give you a real part, be 
 cause I knew you needed the money, now 
 you've lost your lawsuit, and Mr. Zin- 
 sheimer, 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," inter 
 rupted Pinkie. "Flossie's still sore on me. 
 160 
 
An Overture and a Prelude 
 
 I say, she'd better forget it. Girls ought 
 to be friends when they're in the same 
 company." 
 
 Zinsheimer raised his hands protest- 
 ingly. u 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 wait 
 ing to see the little star. Ach Gott!" he 
 added, as the green-baize doors were sud 
 denly thrown open from the stage, and an 
 excitable whirlwind blew in. "Ach Gotf, 
 what is this?" 
 
 "This" turned out to be an imposing fig 
 ure attired in the white huzzar uniform 
 of a German prince. His bronze wig with 
 the pompadour effect, his upturned mous 
 tache, 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. 
 161 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "This," in other words, was Arnold Law 
 rence, leading man, and he was evidently 
 somewhat distrait. 
 
 "Miss Farnum," he cried. "Where is 
 Miss Farnum?" 
 
 "She's there in her dressing-room," ex 
 plained Zinsheimer. "But she isn't com 
 ing 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 Em 
 pire. 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, ap 
 peared in the door of her dressing-room. 
 
 "Miss Farnum," cried Lawrence, dra 
 matically, "my boots have not arrived. I 
 refuse to go on unless correctly dressed." 
 162 
 
I 
 
An Overture and a Prelude 
 
 "But what can I do?" asked Martha, 
 helplessly. 
 
 "Dismiss the audience. I will not ap 
 pear 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 keep 
 ing 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 Ger 
 man prince to appear with a black eye?" 
 
 "But heavens, man, what am I to do?" 
 protested Lawrence. "Look at me. I 
 want my boots." 
 
 163 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "Aw, go act barefooted," replied Zin-- 
 sheimer, disgustedly. 
 
 "What? I barefoot?" 
 
 "Well, why not? You haven't got any 
 thing 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 ar 
 rived. 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 
 
 164 
 
An Overture and a Prelude 
 
 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 Far- 
 num," he said softly. "Believe me, I re 
 gret 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 ab 
 surd ! 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 predica 
 ment in which he saw things were becom 
 ing 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. 
 
A Star, for a Night 
 
 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." 
 
 166 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 BEFORE THE CURTAIN ROSE 
 
 GORDON stopped short before Martha, 
 involuntarily impressed at the pleasing pic 
 ture she made, clad in her simple but effec 
 tive 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 re 
 fresh 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 re 
 mark as that?'* she asked. 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 un 
 sympathetic audience, ready to laugh if I 
 score a failure, reluctant to concede suc 
 cess. 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 in 
 tently 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." 
 
 Martha looked at him in simple amaze- 
 168 
 
MARTHA KAKNUM (Ei.siE JAN is) 
 
Before the Curtain Rose 
 
 ment. "Nonsense," she replied. "The 
 curtain will rise in a few minutes." 
 
 "It will when you say the word, pro 
 vided 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 ap 
 pearance as a star at a Broadway theater. 
 In six months or less you have been trans 
 formed 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. 
 
 169 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "I am," he said coldly. 
 
 "You? Impossible!" Martha rose in 
 amazement. 
 
 "For three months I have made it pos 
 sible for you to have everything a woman 
 can want," continued Gordon, calmly, com 
 ing 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 receiv 
 ing just recognition, I have been paying 
 the bills." 
 
 "And if what you say is true all true 
 what then?" Martha gazed at him blank 
 ly, 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 re 
 turn, but now I do." 
 
 "Return? You mean?" 
 
 "You're not such a fool as you'd have 
 me think. What of the handsome apart 
 ment you are living in, furnished by Mr. 
 Weldon and supposed to be paid for out 
 170 
 
Before the Curtain Rose 
 
 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 in 
 credible." 
 
 "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, scorn 
 fully. "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. 
 
 171 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "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 com 
 pletely 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. 
 
 172 
 
Before the Curtain Rose 
 
 "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 fin 
 ished 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 look- 
 173 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 ing at her intently for a moment, then ap 
 parently realizing that he was unable to 
 alter her decision, he threw up his hands 
 with a despairing gesture and started to 
 ward the door. 
 
 "There will be no performance, Wei- 
 don," he said roughly. "Dismiss the audi 
 ence, 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 reck 
 oning, 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 in 
 dependence, she turned her back upon him, 
 and went into her dressing-room, while 
 
Before the Curtain Rose 
 
 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 chatter 
 ing away for dear life. 
 
 "No performance?" cried Flossie For- 
 sythe. "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 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 the play doesn't have a run you are en 
 titled 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 dis 
 satisfied 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 some 
 thing underhanded, but I didn't believe 
 even Gordon capable of such a trick." He 
 
Before the Curtain Rose 
 
 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 re 
 newed interest. He saw before him an 
 other prospective backer to take the place 
 of the one who had just deserted him. 
 "You? Of course it could be done, Clay 
 ton, 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 audi 
 ence that there will be a performance." 
 
 As the stage manager hurriedly started 
 177 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 ac 
 cepted 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 hun 
 dred if you go on and give a good per 
 formance," he volunteered. "Weldon, 
 
Before the Curtain Rose 
 
 make out the salary list of this company, 
 and Til give you a check covering two 
 weeks' salaries for each member of the or 
 ganization. Figure up how much the the 
 ater 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 
 179 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 your 
 self," he replied. 
 
 "The curtain is up, Miss Farnum," cried 
 Lizzie, entering for a moment from the 
 stage. "It is nearly time for your en 
 trance." 
 
 "Wish me success," pleaded Martha, 
 again. 
 
 "Is that all you wish for?" asked Clay 
 ton, going with her toward the stage. "If 
 that is all you wish, I hope from the bot 
 tom of my heart you will win it to-night." 
 
 Martha withdrew her hand, turned, and 
 half smiled, just before stepping upon the 
 stage. 
 
 180 
 
Before the Curtain Rose 
 
 "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. 
 
 181 
 
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 bed 
 room, which was in pink. Visitors, how 
 ever, saw only the white and gold of the 
 parlor and the drawing-room, with per 
 haps an occasional glimpse into the dark- 
 oak dining-room. 
 
 The first streaks of early dawn, pene 
 trating 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 
 
 183 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 
 184 
 
The Morning After 
 
 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 manage 
 ment, who made me believe I was being 
 promoted because of my ability." 
 
 "And wasn't that the truth?" de 
 manded 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 fail 
 ures 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 
 185 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 on the door, u 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 al 
 ways noticed he'd find a way to read it 
 aloud at the supper table." 
 
 "By the way, Lizzie," said Martha, sud 
 denly, "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." 
 
 186 
 
The Morning After 
 
 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 si 
 lence. 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 an 
 other 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 per 
 fectly lovely things the papers said about 
 me," she cried. "Of course, that smart 
 critic on the American might have said I 
 
 187 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 re 
 member," 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 an 
 other day. I'll help you dress." 
 188 
 
THIS IS INFAMOUS, INFAMOUS ! I WON ? T BEAD ANOTHER LINE.' 
 
The Morning After 
 
 Half an hour later, as Martha had al 
 most completed her toilette, Lizzie inter 
 rupted to say that the hotel clerk wanted 
 to send some one up to look at the apart 
 ment 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. 1*11 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 igno 
 rant 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. 
 
 189 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 "Lizzie?" repeated Zinsheimer. "What 
 are you doing here ?" 
 
 "Why, this is Miss Farnum's apart 
 ment," explained the maid. "I'll tell her 
 you're here, Miss Forsythe " 
 
 "Mrs. Zinsheimer, if you please," re 
 sponded that young lady, haughtily. "We 
 were married this morning." 
 
 "Fact," admitted Zinsheimer. "I al 
 ways 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 ?" 
 190 
 
The Morning After 
 
 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 giv 
 ing it up because it's too expensive." 
 
 "Too expensive for her, eh?" smiled 
 Zinsheirner; 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 Lex 
 ington emerged from the boudoir. She 
 shrieked at the sight. 
 
 "Marky," she cried. "You here with 
 Flossie?" 
 
 Flossie proudly drew Zinsheirner 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. 
 
 191 
 
r A Star for a Night 
 
 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 con 
 gratulations." 
 
 "Married," repeated Pinkie, incredu 
 lously. "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 ludi 
 crous exhibition of maudlin mush.' Ach 
 Gott, what you think of that? 'A mis 
 guided author loaded a thirteen-inch gun 
 to the muzzle with idiotic words and re 
 duced a large and long-suffering audience 
 to a peppered wreck. As an author, he's 
 192 
 
The Morning After 
 
 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 with 
 out 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 won 
 der 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 ap 
 peared Miss Pinkie Lexington, with a Ger 
 man 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 
 193 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 melo 
 drama." 
 
 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 a^oUnce, you know" 
 "Marky" coughed confidentially. 
 194 
 
"SHE LOOKED LIKE A TURNIP AND ACTED TUB PART ARTISTICALLY.' 
 
The Morning After 
 
 "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." 
 
 195! 
 
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 en 
 deavored 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 com 
 panions. "But they might as well have 
 kept it closed. Beastly piece, hackneyed 
 197 
 
A Star, for a Night 
 
 stuff, stale jokes, bad company, and the 
 star piffle. Nice enough Tittle 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 re 
 plied. "I was there and saw her." 
 
 Thereupon Gordon had hunted up Wei- 
 don, 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 
 198 
 
The Final Reckoning 
 
 finished packing, he was announced, and 
 told to come up. 
 
 "I really ought not to sec you, Mr. Gor 
 don," said Martha, simply, in a business 
 like 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 re 
 sist 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 
 199 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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 morn 
 ing, 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 an 
 swered it. 
 
 "If you are expecting visitors' " Gor 
 don said. 
 
 "It is only Mr. Clayton and I want you 
 to see him," she said. 
 200 
 
The Final Reckoning 
 
 "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," ex 
 plained 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 
 201 
 
A Star for a Night 
 
 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, Gor 
 don. My bid includes a wedding ring." 
 
 Gordon stepped back, looked from 
 Martha to Clayton, and back again to the 
 girl, who stood, confused and embar 
 rassed, with her eyes turned toward the 
 202 
 
The Final Reckoning 
 
 floor. Then the innate refinement and the 
 result of years of breeding asserted itself 
 in Gordon's pale face. He stepped for 
 ward seriously to Martha. 
 
 "Miss Farnum," he said, humbly and 
 sincerely, "better men than / have made 
 mistakes. May I wish you every happi 
 ness ? 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 morn 
 ing," 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," de 
 clared Clayton, taking her hand, while 
 she turned away from him. "You have 
 203 
 
A Star, for a Night 
 
 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 di 
 rect 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 men 
 tion loving you," replied Clayton, in a 
 brisk, businesslike tone. "Well?" 
 
 Martha paused a moment "Do you re 
 member," 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 
 204 
 
The Final Reckoning 
 
 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 
 
 205 
 
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