Transcriber's note

Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Printererrors have been changed and are listed at the end. All otherinconsistencies are as in the original. 

 BLUE-GRASS

 AND

 BROADWAY

 [Illustration: "We are all going to stand by, little girl"]

 BLUE-GRASS

 AND

 BROADWAY

 BY

 MARIA THOMPSON DAVIESS

 Author of "THE MELTING OF MOLLY, " "THE GOLDEN BIRD, " "THE TINDER BOX, " etc. 

 NEW YORK

 THE CENTURY CO. 

 1919

 Copyright, 1919, by

 THE CENTURY CO. 

 Copyright, 1918, by

 INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY (HARPER'S BAZAR)

 _Published, April, 1919_

 BLUE-GRASS

 AND

 BROADWAY

 BLUE-GRASS

 AND

 BROADWAY

CHAPTER I

The need of a large sum of money in a great hurry is the root of manynoble ambitions, in whose branches roost strange companies of birds, pecking away for dollars that grow--or do not--on bushes. And it was insuch a quest that Miss Patricia Adair of Adairville, Kentucky, lit upona limb of life beside Mr. Godfrey Vandeford of Broadway, New York. Theirjoint endeavors made a great adventure. 

"There's nothing to it, Pop; either pony girls will have to grow fourlegs to cut new capers, somebody will have to write a play entitled'When Courtship Was in Flower, ' requiring flowered skirts ten yards widewith a punch in each furbelow, or we go out of the theatrical business, "said Mr. Vandeford, as he shuffled a faint, violet-tinted letter out ofa pile of advertising posters emblazoned with dancing girls and men, several personal bills, two from a theatrical storage house and one froman electrical expert, leaned back in his chair, and prepared to open theviolet communication. "We dropped twenty thousand cool on 'Miss Cut-up, 'and those sixteen pairs of legs cost us fifteen hundred a week. We mightbe in danger of starving right here on Broadway, if we hadn't picked asure-fire hit in 'The Rosie Posie Girl. '"

"Ain't it the truth, " answered Mr. Adolph Meyers, as he glanced up fromhis typewriter with a twinkle in his big black eyes that were like gemsin a round, very sedate, even sad, Hebrew face. "Bare legs and 'cut-ups'is already old now, Mr. Vandeford. It is that we must have now a playwith a punch. "

"The law won't let us take anything more off the chorus, so we'll haveto swing back and put a lot on. Costumes that cost a million will be thenext drag, mark me, Pop, " Mr. Godfrey Vandeford declaimed with a gloomybrow, as he still further delayed exploring the violet missive. 

"A hundred thousand it will take for costuming 'The Rosie Posie Girl, '"agreed Pop dolefully, from above the letter he was slowly pecking out ofthe machine. 

"For furnishing chiffon belts, you mean, not costumes, if we go byCorbett's clothes ideas, " growled the pessimistic, prospective producerof the possible next season's hit in the girl-show line. 

"You have it right, " answered Pop, sympathetically. 

"If I hadn't promised to let old Denny in on my Violet Hawtry show forthe fall I'd be tempted to throw back everything, even 'The Rosie PosieGirl' and go gunning for potatoes or onions up on a Connecticut farm;but the show bug has bit Denny hard and I'll have to be the one toshear him and not leave it to any of the others. I'll be more mercifulto his millions; but asking him to put up half of a cool hundred andfifty thousand is a bit raw. Wish I had a nice little glad play with anunder twenty cast for him to cut his teeth on instead of the 'RosiePosie. '"

"It's six plays on the shelf now for reading, " reminded Mr. Meyers, eagerly, for to him fell the task of weeding all plays sent into theoffice of Godfrey Vandeford, Theatrical Producer, and his optimisticsoul suffered when he discovered a gem and found himself unable to getMr. Vandeford to read so much as the first act unless he caught him injust such a mood as the one in which he now labored. "Now, I want thatyou take just a peep, Mr. Vandeford, at that new Hinkle comedy for whichI have written already five times to delay--"

"Can't do it now, Pop! Don't you see that I have got to read this purpleletter and that is all the business I can attend to for this morning?"answered Mr. Vandeford, as he pushed a slim paper cutter along the topedge of the purple missive. 

"But, Mr. Vandeford, it is that I have--"

"Express. Sign here!" was the interruption that put an end to Mr. Meyers's immediate supplication. The parcel that he deposited upon hischief's desk with forceful meekness was a play manuscript. 

"Great guns, Pops; I'm seeing purple!" exclaimed Mr. Vandeford, as helet the violet letter fall upon the violet wrappings in which theexpress intrusion was incased. "Exact match! This looks like some sortof a hunch. Open it, Pops, and run through the layout while I tackle theviolet letter and see if anything happens. " And with great interest bothgrown men plunged into the excitement of the chase of the hunch. 

Mr. Vandeford's letter contained the following, delivered in bold wordsand script:

 HIGHCLIFF. 

 _My dear Van:_

 This is to remind you that it is now July fifth, and my contract sets September twenty-third as the last date for my opening on Broadway in a new play under your management. "The Rosie Posie Girl" will be a huge undertaking and worthy of my every effort, but I do not feel that you are up to producing it properly. I regret your losses in "Miss Cut-up, " but I did my best with a vehicle that was not worthy of my ability. The success of "Dear Geraldine" was entirely due to the comedy bits I wrote in to suit myself, and I had to be costumer and producer and the whole show. In justice to myself I feel that I ought to pass under the management of a more forceful person than yourself. And anyway I don't think you would be able to get a theater to open on Broadway in September. Remember that over a hundred good shows died on the road waiting to get into Broadway last winter, and _I_ won't play anywhere else. Now Weiner wants to buy "The Rosie Posie Girl" from you and open his New Carnival Theatre with me in it on October first. You must sell it to him. He will make you a good offer. You can't use it without me, and I want him to produce it. Please see him immediately. You know that you owe your reputation as a producer to me, and don't be selfish. I'll expect you up on the evening train to talk over the final arrangements. I'll meet you in the runabout and we can go out to the Beach Inn for dinner. Bring me some brandied marrons, a large bottle of rose oil and a stick of lip rouge from Celeste's. 

 Hurriedly, VIOLET. 

 July fifth. 

 P. S. Of course you are to go on loving me just as usual. I couldn't do without that. How much money have I in the Knickerbocker Trust?

After Godfrey Vandeford had read the last violent purple line on violet, he dropped the letter on his desk and looked out of his office windowwith serious eyes that gazed without seeing, down the long canyon ofBroadway, up and down which rushed traffic composed of green cars shapedlike torpedoes, honking, darting motors, skulking trucks and jostling, tangled people. Flamboyant signs, waving flags, and gilt-lettered windowpanes made a Persian glow in a belt space up from the seething sidewalksto the sky line, and above it all the roar and din rose to high heaven. But Godfrey Vandeford was blind to it all and deaf, as he sat andbrooded above the furious landscape. His blue eyes, set deep back undertheir black, gray-splashed brows, failed to take in the lurid spectacle, and his narrow, lean face was flushed under the bronze it had acquiredfor keeps from the suns of many climes. His lean, powerful body seemedfairly crouched in thought. Once he shifted one leg across the other, and as he settled back in his chair he tossed the violet letter over toMr. Meyers without seeming to know that he did so. Then he plunged backinto his absorption without seeing his henchman read rapidly through themissive, look at him once with a gem-like keenness, and again begin toread the purple-covered manuscript. 

"And we picked her out of a vaudeville gutter over beyond Weehawken justfive years ago, Pop, " Mr. Vandeford finally interrupted the flip of themanuscript pages to say, with a deep musing in his flexible, sympatheticvoice. 

"You taught her to eat with the knife and the fork, " growled Mr. Meyersfrom behind his violet barricade as he ripped over another page. "Mick!"

"Oh, not as bad as that, Pop, " laughed Mr. Vandeford, with a glance ofaffection at the young Hebrew delving in the corner for a jewel for him. "She's just--oh, well, they are all children--and have to be spanked. She wants to sell me out to Weiner after I've spent five nice, goodyears in building her into a little twinkle star, but I don't think itwill be good for her to let her do it. I'll have to use the slipper onher, I'm afraid. I believe in hunches and I believe I'll just use thatpurple manuscript you're chewing to let her set her teeth in. She needsone good failure to tone her up. What's the name of the effusion inribbons?"

"The Renunciation of Rosalind, " murmured Mr. Meyers, as he bent oncemore to the pages which he had been reading with eagerness wheninterrupted by his chief. 

"We could call it 'The Purple Slipper. ' About what will the castfigure?"

"Three thousand per week if you use Gerald Height at five hundred as percontract with him. But, Mr. Vandeford, sir, I would say for a play thisis--"

"That's not much money to waste on a purple hunch. A nice, judicious, little second-hand staging out of the warehouse and a few weeks' roadtry-out for the failure will cost about ten thousand. I'll let Dennyhave five thousand worth of fun mussing around with it to cut his eyeteeth, and then we'll clap Violet into 'The Rosie Posie Girl, ' weepingwith gratitude to have her face saved after being slapped first. Get theparts out to-morrow and you and Chambers begin to cast it. I'll seeactors here from three to five Friday. I'll open it September tenth. NowI've got to go and chase those confounded marrons. The last I took wereput up in maraschino and were not welcomed. I'll be in the office--"

"And about the author, Mr. Vandeford, and the contracts?" questioned Mr. Meyers, with both dismay and energy in his voice. 

"Oh, I forgot about the author. She won't amount to much. A woman, Ijudge, from the ribbons. Offer the usual five, rising to seven and ahalf royalties, and explain carefully that you mean five per cent. Onthe box office receipts under five thousand, and seven and a half on allover that. Also go into the moving picture rights and second companieswith your usual honesty, but offer her only a two hundred and fiftyadvance to cover a two years' option. She won't know that it ought to befive hundred for six months, and what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Besides, it will all be over for her and her play before October. "

"She says in the letter which was pinned to the first page of the play, that the article about you in the 'Times Magazine' made her know thatyou were the one producer to whom she could trust her play, " said Mr. Meyers, reading from a neat little cream-white note in his hand. 

"Sweet child!" murmured Mr. Vandeford, as he took up his hat and stick. "Don't encourage her in any way in your letter, Pop. We don't want herrushing to the scene of action when we butcher her child. Pay the twothousand to Hilliard for the option on 'The Rosie Posie Girl' untilJanuary first, and tell him I am going to produce it in November. 'Phoneme at Highcliff to-morrow if you want me. I'll be clearing the deck forthe--spanking. "

"I wish you good luck, " said Mr. Meyers feelingly. 

"What do you judge that play is about from reading the first act, andwhat is the author's name? I might have to produce a little concreteinformation in the fracas, " the eminent producer paused to inquire justas he was closing the door. 

"It is written by a Miss Patricia Adair of Adairville, Kentucky, and ithas in plenty of ruffles and romance that is in a past time of aColonial Governor and his wife alone at home with him in Washington. "

"That sounds about right for the weapon of castigation for VioletHawtry, _née_ Murphy. I have always believed in hunches, and thataccord in color was meant to mean something. Better send me a copyspecial in the morning. If Mr. Farraday calls me before I get him tellhim the Astor at one to-day. What did I say? Marrons, lip stick, and--"

"Rose oil, " prompted Mr. Meyers, with just the trace of a sneer in hisvoice. 

"Right O! Rose oil it is. By!" And the door closed on Mr. Vandeford'sgraceful figure in its gray London tweeds. 

Thus a great adventure was undertaken in all levity. And with hischief's complete departure a change came into the mien of Mr. AdolphMeyers. He told the stenographer in the outer office to engage two girlsto copy a play that afternoon and evening, to keep him from beinginterrupted until six, and to muffle the telephone unless in cases ofemergency. Then he seated himself in Mr. Vandeford's deep chair, put hisfeet on the desk, lit a fat, black cigar and plunged into "The PurpleSlipper, " _née_ "The Renunciation of Rosalind. " For two hours he readwith the deepest absorption, only pausing to make an occasional note ona pad at his elbow. Then after he had laid down the manuscript with itspurple wrappings and ribbons, he sat for a half hour in a trance, out ofwhich he came to seat himself at the typewriter to indite a portentousletter, which he put in an envelope, sealed and directed to:

 MISS PATRICIA ADAIR, Adairville, Kentucky. 

The contents were:

 _My dear Madam:_

 I have carefully read your play entitled "The Renunciation of Rosalind, " and have decided to make you the following offer for the production rights. I will give you two hundred and fifty dollars for all rights of production, including moving picture rights and supplementary road companies to extend over a period of two years from the date of signing the contract, and will agree to pay you in addition five per cent. Of all box receipts up to five thousand per week and seven and a half on all exceeding that sum. If you agree to this proposition, I will send you a formal contract covering all points in legal terms. Please let me know at your earliest convenience your decision about the matter, as I now intend to produce it in September with Violet Hawtry in the title rôle. 

 Believe me, my dear Madam, Very truly, GODFREY VANDEFORD. 

The above epistle from a strange outer world found Miss Patricia Adair, attired in a faded gingham frock, planting snap beans in her ancestralgarden. It was delivered to her by her brother, Mr. Roger Adair, fromthe hip pocket of his khaki trousers, upon which were large smudges ofthe agricultural profession. His blue gingham shirt was open at thethroat across a strong bronze throat, and his eyes were as blue as hisshirt and laughed out across big brown freckles that matched hischestnut hair. 

"Here's a letter I brought over from the post-office, Pat, along with asack of meal and fifty cents' worth of sugar. Mr. Bates said Miss ElviraHenderson stopped in and told him to send it to you by the first personcoming your way, " he said as he threw the reins of the filly, whosechestnut coat matched his hair exactly, over the gate post, andproceeded to take from the pommel of the saddle the two bundles ofgroceries mentioned. "Mr. Bates sent you this bunch of tomato plants andhead lettuce to set out along the back border of your rose beds, andI'll spade it all up for you right now if--"

"Oh, Roger, listen, listen!" exclaimed Patricia, as she sprang to herfeet from her knees upon which she had rested as she read the letter hehad handed her. "My play, my play, it's sold!" And as she sparkled athim over the letter of Mr. Adolph Meyers held clasped to her ginghambosom, wild roses bloomed in her cheeks and tears sparkled in her grayeyes back of their thick black lashes. 

"What play?" demanded Roger, stolid with astonishment. 

"The one I wrote last month and the month before, when Mr. Covingtonsaid that the mortgage must be paid--or give up Rosemeade. I knew itwould kill Grandfather to move him away from the house he was born in, and I couldn't think of anything that would get money quick but coal oilwells and gold mines and plays. It costs money to dig up oil and gold, but it is easy to write a play. "

"Oh, is it?" Roger questioned, with a twinkle in his eyes above thefreckles. In his arms he still held the meal and the sugar, and hisinterest was an inspiration to Patricia to pour out the whole story in atorrent of tumbling words. 

"You know those love letters I have of our great grandmother's that shewrote to her husband while he was in Washington consulting the Presidentabout the first constitutional convention, the ones about the Indianraid and the battle at Shawnee. You remember the day I read them to youup in the apple tree in the orchard years ago, don't you?"

"Yes, I remember the day, " answered Roger, with another twinkle turnedinward at the memory of his seventeen-year-old scorn of Patricia'seleven-year-old sentimentality. 

"Well, those letters are the play, " announced Patricia triumphantly. "Iread a lot of Shakespeare and other old English dramas I found inGrandfather's library to see exactly how to make one. It ends when hecomes back expecting to find her killed and she is dancing at a dinnershe has given her lover as a bet that he would come back by that night. It's wonderful!" As she thus laid bare the skeleton of her play child, Patricia took from doubting Roger the sack of sugar. 

"Shoo, that's not a play, " hooted Roger, with a decided return of hisseventeen-year-old scorn in his thirtieth summer. 

"Read that, " answered Patricia with dignity, as she handed him Mr. Godfrey Vandeford's letter, written and signed by Mr. Adolph Meyers. 

"Whew--uh, Pat, two hundred and fifty dollars!" Roger exclaimed, as hismanner dissolved quickly from affectionate derision into respectful awe. 

"Oh, that's just a trifle for a beginning; those royalties may be worthseveral hundred thousand. In the 'Times Magazine' article that I readabout Godfrey Vandeford and his plays, it said he had paid the author of'Dear Geraldine' more than a hundred thousand dollars in royalties. Thatis what made me write the play. "

"Say, let me take it sitting down, " said Roger as he sank upon the grassbeside a rose bed that had a row of spring onions growing odoriferouslydefiant under the very shower of its petals, and laid the sack ofprecious meal tenderly across his knees. "Now go on and tell me. "

"You see, Roger, I had to do something to get the money to keep thehouse for Grandfather. You know we couldn't get any more mortgage money, because it had closed up or something, and--"

"Did Covington tell you he was going to foreclose after I--that is, right away?" demanded Roger fiercely, with a snap in the blue eyes abovethe freckles. 

"No, " said Patricia, as she settled herself on the grass beside Roger, with the valuable sugar balanced tenderly upon her knee. "He told methat he would let it stand just as it was for three months until Octoberfirst, but after that we would have to--to tell--Grandfather and move, "a quiver came into Patricia's soft voice that had in it the patrician, slurring softness that can only come from the throat of a grand damesprung from the race which has dominated blue-grass pastures. "DoctorHealy says it won't be long but--but now he'll--he'll die in his ownhome that Grandmother built where he fought off the Indians. Her playhas saved us. "

"I had fixed it to run until I make my crops, " said Roger, with a chokein his voice that was a rich masculine accompaniment to Patricia's. 

"The play will have been running six weeks by that time, and I can paymost of it off. A hundred thousand a year is almost ten thousand a monthand--"

"But all plays don't succeed, Pat, honey, and--"

"The 'Times Magazine' said that Godfrey Vandeford had never had afailure, and didn't you read that he wants to star Violet Hawtry in it?She was 'Dear Geraldine. ' How could it fail?" Patricia was positivelyhaughty toward Roger's timorousness. 

"That's so, " admitted Roger, convinced. "And we can easy get by on thetwo fifty until October, especially with the garden I am going to raise. I'm no Godfrey Vandeford, but I'm a first-class producer--of potatoesand onions and cabbage and turnip greens and corn. In these war times apotato producer ranks with any old producer. "

"But I won't be able to leave all of the two hundred and fifty to usethis summer. I'll have to take some of it with me. "

"With you where?" demanded Roger. 

"To New York. Do you suppose even Mr. Godfrey Vandeford would undertaketo produce a play without the author there to help him?" Patricia'sscorn of Roger's lack of sound reasoning about theatrical matters washurled at him pitilessly. 

"Of course not, " admitted Roger hurriedly. "You can take the whole twohundred and fifty and I'll look after the Major and Jeff. "

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Roger, " said Patricia, as shecuddled her cheek for an instant against his strong, warm shoulder underthe gingham shirt. "I'm afraid of New York. I know you'll take care ofGrandfather; but who'll look after little me--I don't know what I'll doall by myself. Maybe I won't have to--"

"Certainly you'll have to go, " Roger interrupted with comfortingassurance. "Go to the Young Women's Christian Association, and ifanything happens to you telegraph me and I'll come get you. "

"I hadn't thought of the Y. W. C. A. Of course I'll be all right there. I'll get Miss Elvira to write a special letter to the secretary aboutme, " exclaimed Patricia with the joy lights back in the great, grayeyes. "And it's so cheap there that I can leave a lot of the money athome. I'll only be gone about six weeks. "

"No, I think you had better take all the two fifty with you, " saidRoger. "You know you have to spend money to make money and you mustn'tbe short. I'll look after the Major and Jeff. Don't you worry, dear. "

"Will you let me buy you a big silo and a tractor plow when I get allthe money? You are the greatest farmer in the world and you only need alittle machinery to prove it. " Again the young playwright rose to herknees and with letter and sugar in her embrace she entreated to beallowed to spend the money that was to be hers from "The Renunciation ofRosalind, " which she did not know was being cast in New York as "ThePurple Slipper. "

"Certainly I'll let you help me, Pat. Hasn't what's yours and minealways been ours since we set our first hen together?" laughed Roger, ashe rose to his feet and dragged Patricia to hers beside him. "Come onand let's break it to the Major. You may need me to stand by if it hitshim on the bias, " and they both laughed with a tinge of uneasiness asthey went down the long walk of the garden which on both sides wassprouting and leaving and perfuming in a medley of flowers andvegetables. 

As they walked slowly along Roger cast an eye of great satisfaction overthe long lines of rapidly maturing peas and beans and heavy-leavedpotatoes, and in his mind calculated that a year's food for the smallfamily at Rosemeade was being produced right at their door under hisskilful hoe which he wielded at off times when he could leave the negrohands to their work out on Rosemeade, their ancestral five hundred acresof blue-grass meadows and loamy fields. Roger had for the summer quithis slowly growing law practice in Adairville, enlisted as a doughtyCaptain in the Army of the Furrows and was as proud of his khaki andgingham uniform with their loam smudges as of his diploma from theUniversity of Virginia which hung in the wide old hall, the top one in asuccession of five given from father to son of the house of Adair. Thewhole county was farming under the direction of Roger, and he had beenobliged often to work Patricia's garden by moonlight. 

"I'm almost afraid to tell Grandfather, " Patricia interrupted his foodcalculations to say as they came around the corner of the wide-roofedold brick house with its traceries of vines that massed at the eaves togive nesting for many doves, and beheld the Major seated in his armchair on the porch which was guarded and supported by round, whitepillars around which a rose vine festooned itself. A faded, plaid woolrug was across the Major's knees in spite of the fact that the eveningwas so warm, and about his shoulders was a wide, gray knitted scarf. Abent, white-haired old negro stood beside him filling his pipe for himand serving as a target for the words issuing from beneath his waxedwhite mustache that gave the impression of crossed white swords. 

"War! What do they know about war, Jeff? We killed our first Yankeebefore we were seventeen, and now they fight behind guns located sixmiles away by squinting through double-decker opera glasses. War, I sayin these days--"

"Yes, sir, " assented Jeff, in soothing interruption of what heconsidered debilitating heat in the Major's words. "We whipped themYankees in no time but they jest didn't find it out in time to stopkilling us 'fore it all ended. Now, I'm going to help you to your roomand make you comfortable for I--"

"I see Patricia and Roger approaching and I'll wait to talk to them fora few minutes, Jeff, " answered the Major with a slight note of entreatyin his voice. 

"Jess a little while, then, jess a little while, " consented the oldblack comrade nurse as he shuffled into the house and back to hiskitchen to complete his preparation of the simple evening meal for hislittle household. As he crisped his bacon, scrambled his eggs andbrowned his muffins he muttered to himself:

"He's gitting weaker every day--help him Lord, and me to keep care ofhim. "

Just as he was turning the fluffy yellow scramble into a hot, old silverdish he paused and listened to the musketry of the Major's deep voicewhich was huge even in weakness, then he shook his head and began tohustle the food together to be able to use the announcement of the mealas an interruption to the harmful excitement, whose scattering words hewas at a loss to understand. 

"Impossible! Impossible that my granddaughter should barter and trade inthe theatrical world, a world into which no lady should ever set foot. No! Do not argue, Patricia! Roger and I understand, and it is notneedful that you should, " were the words of the assault andcounter-charge that so puzzled old Jeff over his skillet and baker. 

"I'm not going to act in the play, Grandfather. I wrote it and I'm goingto show them how I want it acted and then come right home, " soothedPatricia, looking to Roger for help and reinforcement. 

"She'll stay at the Young Women's Christian Association, Major, andshe'll be perfectly safe. I am going to write to Dennis Farraday, whograduated with me at the University, and ask him to look after her ifshe needs anything. "

"Ah, that puts another face on the matter, " said the Major, with adegree of mollification coming into his keen, old face and weaklybooming voice. "Of course, the Adairs have always been geniuses of onekind or another, and it is not surprising that my granddaughter shouldhave produced a great American Drama. If she has the interest andprotection of a gentleman who is a friend of her brother's, and a saferetreat in a woman's organization I will have to permit her tosuperintend the placing of her great work before an appreciative public. Of course, she will not be thrown with any of the theatrical worldsocially, and in a few weeks she will return to her own home, leavingthat world better for having had a brief glimpse of her. You may go, Patricia. Jefferson!" Fatigue showed very decidedly in the Major's weakcall to the old negro, who came immediately and rolled his chair awaywith an indignant cast of his eyes at the two young people. 

"Wh-eugh, that was a battle, and if I hadn't thought of old Denny tobring up as a support to the Young Women's Christian Association I thinkit would have sure gone the other way. " And Roger laughed with thetwinkle above the freckles as he leaned against the rose vine around thepillar and fanned himself with his hat. 

"_Is_ there any Denny?" questioned Patricia weakly, from the top stepupon which she had sunk when the Major was wheeled away. 

"Certainly, and he's a jolly good fellow, " answered Roger. "I had aletter from him year before last. I'll write him all about everythingand he'll look after you for me. I'd trust Denny to do his best for meif I hadn't seen him for fifty years. I lived with him our Junior andSenior years and I know him. But I must go. I have to go back to thegrocery again to get a plow point. "

"Please don't go until after supper, " pleaded Patricia. "I want to thinkout loud to you. It has just struck me that I will have to have someclothes. What will I do about it? I can't go to New York in a ginghamdress. "

"In such a crisis as that I think Miss Elvira will be a better targetfor your thoughts than I can be. I'll stop and tell her the news andsend her over, " teased Roger with his engaging twinkle. 

"I can't think to anybody like I can to you, " said Patricia, as she cameand stood beside him. 

"I really have to go, honey child, to see about the ploughing in mySouth meadow, but I'll come back to be in the finish of the dimityconfab, " answered Roger, as he patted Patricia on the shoulder and wentrapidly away. 

And a dimity confab was a good name for the conference that was held inthe July moonlight on the front porch of Rosemeade for several silveredhours that night. Miss Elvira Henderson, modiste, who was the guide, philosopher and friend, in the matter of costuming as well as in allother matters, of the feminine population of Hillcrest, had hurried downthe street to the Rosemeade gate as soon as she had consumed herspinster baked apple and toast supper, and on her way had collectedpretty Mamie Lou Whitson and progressive Jenny Kinkaid, who formed athrilled chorus to her interested and joyful conversation withPatricia. 

"The eyes of the world will be on you, Patricia, and nothing short of asilk tailor suit will be suitable for you to wear to sustain yourself insuch a position, " declared Miss Elvira, with a positive degree offinality in her voice. 

"And you'll have to have at least three evening dresses, Pat, for thatsame article about Mr. Godfrey Vandeford said that Broadway only woke upat night. And you know it said he was the best known man on Broadway. Ofcourse, he'll take you to lots of Cafes and dances, and midnight frolicsand--and things, " bubbled Mamie Lou very unwisely. 

"Patricia is to stay at The Young Women's Christian Association, and Iam sure they will expect her to be in bed before any midnightfoolishness, " said Miss Elvira, with a severe glance at the frivolousMamie Lou. "I shall, of course, make her an evening dress or two, oneespecially to wear when the multitude calls her before the curtain toexpress their admiration of and enthusiasm over her play, but I shalltrust Patricia not to let them lead her into any undue frivolity. Thetheatres all close at eleven o'clock. "

"The article said that was the time that Broadway woke up, and--" Jennybegan, as she hid behind Mamie Lou as if expecting a volley from MissElvira. But Miss Elvira was too much absorbed to notice her in any way. Miss Elvira was also in the throes of conceptive genius. 

"The last 'Woman's Review' had a colored plate of a suit that I can seeon you, Patricia, " she mused under her breath. "It was queer blue, with--"

"In that big trunk of your great grandmother's up in the garret there'sa blue silk that she wore in Washington that is that curious new bluecolor, Pat, and a lot more of--" Mamie Lou was saying with greatexecutive ability when Miss Elvira seized on her idea and made it herown with the avidity of real genius. 

"We'll make over all of old Madam Adair's dresses for you, Patricia, "she decreed. 

"They've always been kept kind of sacred and--" Patricia began toremonstrate with uncertainty in her voice. 

"And rightly so--but at the presentation of her play it is proper forthem to emerge, " Miss Elvira further decreed. "Get a lamp and let's golook at them and decide to-night, " she further commanded. 

And from the result of that resurrection in the garret of Rosemeade, Adairville, Kentucky, later Broadway, even Fifth Avenue, New York, got adecided and unwonted thrill. 

"The clothes are all right, Roger. Miss Elvira is going to make me a lotout of great-grandmother's clothes she wore in Washington to dance withLafayette, " Patricia confided to Roger as they stood under the rose vinein the moonlight at the late hour of ten-thirty that evening after shehad helped him transplant a lot of sturdy tomato vines. 

"Little old New York will sit up and take notice when it sees you inparty dimity, Pat, " he said as he smiled down into the eager, gray eyesthat were raised to his, beaming through their long black lashes. 

"Oh, I hope I'll make friends, Roger, " Patricia answered the warmth inhis voice as she clung to the warmth and strength of his arm as if inforeboding. 

"Of course New York will love you, Pat. Hasn't everybody always lovedyou?" he asked tenderly as he put his work-worn hand over hers on hisarm. 

"Yes, " answered Patricia, with her head suddenly held high. "If anybodydon't like me, I'll make them. "

At about the same hour that this challenge to his world was flung fromthe lips of the beautiful and talented Miss Patricia Adair upon themoonlit and mockingbird trilled air of the Bluegrass State Mr. GodfreyVandeford was engaged in about the twenty-fifth round of the spanking ofMiss Violet Hawtry in the State of New York, and he was having a hardtime accomplishing his purpose. 

"It's just like your selfishness to try to put me into a piffling playby some unknown author with every risk to be run, when Weiner wants tobuy your contract and put me into 'The Rosie Posie Girl, ' which is aplay by Hilliard that gives me scope for all of my ability. He iswilling to give you a fifth interest in it and that's all you deserve. I'll show you whether or not you can sacrifice my career, you ----! ----! ----! you!" And with which tirade the beautiful Violetstormed up and down the veranda of Highcliff in front of the supinefigure of her manager, which was clad in immaculate white flannel, suedeand linen, with a blue silk scarf knotted at the base of his lean, bronze throat, which matched the blue of his keen eyes under theirgray-sprinkled brows, as the only bit of color in his irreproachablecostuming. 

"You've read neither play, my dear Violet. You may like 'The PurpleSlipper. ' In which case you get the same salary and I get all theprofits instead of the one-fifth our friend Weiner is offering me forletting you act in my other play, " he answered his star's outburst in aneasy, mollifying drawl. 

"Everybody knows that a Hilliard play is a _play_, and I'm not going totry out a new playwright just to put money in your pockets. Why shouldI?" demanded the star virago, in a fury that made her snapping Irishblue eyes, tall, strapping, curved body, and pale tawny hair combineinto a good semblance of the jungle queen on a prey quest. 

"No reason except your contract entered into in all lawfulness, "answered Mr. Godfrey Vandeford. "You know what the Courts are, and ifyou like I'll meet you there and fight it out instead of by thesesounding sea waves in this delicious moonlight. Come here and kiss meand do let our lawyers settle it all for us. " As he spoke he rose lazilyand attempted to take the taut young cat into a pair of listlesslydesirous arms. 

"Not on your life you big loafer, you, just because you put one over mewhen I was a starved stage door drab don't think I am that same kind orthat sort of thing goes with me now. " She spit the words at him as shehalf yielded to his nonchalant embrace and half repulsed it. 

"Be accurate, Violet, my dear: did I demand your heart until I hadmanaged you and my own affairs to the point where you could buyHighcliff or any other trifles you wanted? There are other ladies tolove in the world besides you, aren't there? There are other gentlemenbesides me and you've had five years--and a wide hunting grounds. I'vegot you under only one contract--business and not--pleasure. "

"God, I don't know whether I love or hate you most, " were the words ofthe conciliating purr that he got as she turned to put herself backunder his caressing. 

"Hate, I wager, " he laughed softly, as he drew away from her and seatedhimself on the railing of the veranda which hung out over the old oceanso that its hungry waves seemed to be leaping up to engulf him. The graypeaks and gable of the Hawtry cottage massed themselves back of him andin the silvering moonlight he looked like a white eagle perched on aneyrie. 

"Don't make me play that play; give me over to Weiner, " the star of manysuch an encounter as well of "Dear Geraldine" coaxed, as she followedhim and put bare, white, glistening arms around his neck and attemptedto draw his head down against a bosom that still tossed with the stormof anger that she had put out of voice and face. "You know how last yearnobody could get a theatre for love or money, and the producers whoowned theatres put on all the plays and coined money. It will be worsenext year. You have no theatre and Weiner has three. He offers to let usopen the New Carnival. It'll be a sure thing; while your play will haveto take its chance for a New York theatre and maybe get none. Please, Godfrey!"

"Well, you see I had agreed to let Dennis Farraday in on this play, andit would sell him out to Weiner too, " answered Mr. Vandeford, as he verygently but determinedly took the white arms from around his neck andrefused the pillow of the storming breast. 

"Dennis Farraday?" Violet asked, and Mr. Vandeford shot a quick glanceof question at her as he felt the tautening of the muscles in the whitearms that he had in his grasp of untangling. "You are not going to trimhim, are you?"

"No, not if you make a hit in 'The Purple Slipper, ' answered Mr. Vandeford, as he gave her another appraising glance while he lit acigarette. 

"Has he read the play?"

"He's putting his money on Hawtry in a play of Vandeford's selecting andproducing, " was the slap administered with the soft drawl. And as heslapped he watched the reaction. 

"What did you do with that copy of the play that fellow Dolph sent outthis morning?" was what he got with an entire change of purpose in thebeautiful, stormy face that had calmed in an instant. 

"It's in your room on the table by your bed, " answered Mr. Vandeford, ashe rose, stretched, yawned and in other ways indicated his desire forsleep in the primitive manner that a man uses in the bosom of hisfamily. 

"I'm going to read it if you don't mind, " the Violet said with a smileof pleasure instead of the frown of anger which had so lately rested onher fair face. Mr. Vandeford laughed inwardly; she was about astransparent as a very young kitten in its eagerness for a saucer ofcream. 

"Good girl, " answered Godfrey, as together they entered the dark house. Together they climbed the steps, and with a kiss executed by the Violethe left her to turn into the door of her room while he went on to hisjust beyond. 

Out of her sight the lazy, care-free manner left his lithe body, and inan instant every muscle stiffened to action. The smoulder of anger inhis eyes blazed. He looked at his watch. 

"Thirty-five minutes to catch that eleven-fifteen train to town. Neveragain. I'm done!" he murmured and looked about him at his belongingsstrewn around his room. "I'll send Dolph out to pack to-morrow. A jumpinto tweeds and a sprint down the beach will make it. "

And after vigorously suiting his actions to his words for twenty minuteshe was running swiftly down the beach well ahead of the time of theeleven-fifteen train. Just as the headlight cast a red ray down the longtrack he stepped on the platform and in ten seconds more he was beingwhirled away from the moonlight and sands and white arms, havingaccomplished his purpose of the spanking, cut forever chains thatgalled, and was well content with himself and the world. 

Back at Highcliff the beautiful Violet had been undergoing the rites ofretirement, assisted by her very well-skilled maid, deep in an excitingdream of conquest. As she let her soft, perfumed, silken garments betaken from her one at a time until her pearly body was exposed to thebrisk sea air, for which tonic Susette had thrown wide both broadwindows, she was weighing in her shrewd little gutter-gamin mind theadvantages of the road to the right against the turn to the left. TheHilliard "Rosie Posie Girl" in the fall produced by Weiner with all histrained staff, command of a big new theatre and three others, andfollowing road prestige appealed strongly to her cupidity, which hadbeen well trained in getting dimes from tight pockets in cheap cafes andten, twenty and thirty theatres, but she had seen a grouping of DennisFarraday's name in the paper a few days ago with the names of some youngNew York multimillionaires in a National Commission, and she knew thathe and his "pile" were worthy of the effort of her charms. Also she hadseen big, broad, breezy, gallant Dennis himself at luncheon with Mr. Vandeford in the Astor not ten days before, and her designs had beendecidedly set in his direction. To her thinking, big, broad, breezy, gallant men were always easy. As Susette enveloped her rosiness from thesea air in a soft white cloud of chiffon and embroidery, removed therose mules from her feet, helped her in between the fragrant linensheets that were as soft as rich silk, threw over her a rose-coloredpuff of silk and lace and down, turned on her reading lamp, upon whoseshade wanton fauns and nymphs sported, piled her pillows high and lefther, the scales were about going down on the side in which was placed"The Purple Slipper, " Mr. Dennis Farraday--and Miss Patricia Adair, whoat that time was the unknown quantity which Fate often throws in anybalance. 

With a luxurious sigh and flexing of her long, supple body the Violetpicked up the business-like copy of the Violet manuscript which Mr. Adolph Meyers had sent her instead of the beribboned, purple"Renunciation of Rosalind, " and began to read the first page when thetelephone beside her bed rang with a soft tinkle. She picked up theivory receiver and into it murmured a softly tentative:

"Yes?"

 . . . . . . 

"Oh, Mr. Farraday! How are you?"

 . . . . . . 

"Yes, this is Violet Hawtry. "

 . . . . . . 

"Deliciously well, thank you. "

 . . . . . . 

"Yes, he's here, but the gay young thing has gone to bed hours ago. "

 . . . . . . 

"Most interesting for me, but I have to submit. "

 . . . . . . 

"Oh, lovely. Do come. I'll adore having him routed out for you. Ofcourse we'll go with you. I had forgot that Simone was to dance at theBeach Inn to-night. "

 . . . . . . 

"No indeed, I have not undressed at all. I was going to study a partto-night. "

 . . . . . . 

"I'm sure Godfrey can be dressed in half an hour, and it will take evenyour Surreness that time to get here. Take the beach road; it's fine. Good-by then. In half an hour. "

 . . . . . . 

With which ending and beginning the Violet hung up the ivory receiverand rang for Susette. The summons was answered by Mrs. Aline Hawtry, _née_ Maggie Murphy the first, an embarrassing but in a manner cherishedrelict of the Hawtry past life in Weehawken. 

"Sure, and the little Frinchy is a-bed, Mag! What be ye wanting? Thenight is after sneaking out the back door of the morning. " Mrs. Hawtry, once Murphy, was a big bonny edition of the Violet grown into a cabbagerose and her voice was also of the same rich texture. 

"Rout out Godfrey, Ma, and then stir up Susette with a hot stick. Mr. Dennis Farraday is coming down to take us over to see Simone dance atthe Beach Inn. I want him to see me instead of Simone. Hurry!"

"The poor dear boy, after a hard day in the cruel hot city. Alack!"moaned Mrs. Maggie as she billowed across to Mr. Vandeford's door andknocked. Then she paused and knocked again. From neither knock did shereceive an answer as the moment was just about the one in which he hadboarded the New York bound train a half mile up the beach down which Mr. Dennis Farraday was racing. 

When a search of the unresponsive room had convinced the Violet of hisflight, for a moment her eyes were stormy, then her face cleared with asmile of delight, and as she padded back to her room and the waitingSusette, to herself she purred:

"Nobody can beat my luck. "

CHAPTER II

There is a certain kind of man over whom all other men smile inwardly. The tone of voice in which they speak of him has an affectionate growl, which, once heard, cannot be mistaken. Such a man is apt to cherish whatother men call "impossible ideals about women, " and it behooves hismasculine friends to watch out for him carefully lest he come a cropper. Mr. Dennis Farraday was such a man among men, and Mr. Godfrey Vandefordloved him deeply. They had met when they were both twenty-three, onboard a tramp steamer, bound for adventure in South Africa, and in theseven years that had elapsed since then they had spent periods of timetogether, in various kinds of sports. Killing time on Broadway was aboutthe only sport that they had not tried together. By very solid bankingand brokering Mr. Vandeford enjoyed and increased for himself and anaristocratic, Knickerbocker-descended mother a few ancestral millions. Incidentally, he took care of the sole hundred thousand dollars of whichMr. Vandeford's high financiering on Broadway had left him possessed. Mr. Farraday and Mrs. Justus Farraday represented the sole family tiespossessed by Mr. Vandeford, and he considered them both most valuable. In fact, the maternal regard of Mrs. Justus Farraday was looked upon byMr. Vandeford as his chief treasure and sheet-anchor in times of thehigh winds of life. 

"What makes you do it, Van?" questioned Mr. Farraday, as he sat with Mr. Vandeford in the early morning in the latter's rooms after the tumult ofthe first night of the unsuccessful "Miss Cut-up. "

"Excitement, " answered Mr. Vandeford, as he put his bare heels, protruding from his Chinese slippers, up on the edge of the mahoganyreading-table in his living-room, and began to pull at a long, evil-smelling, briar pipe. "Nothing like it. "

"Do you really care for all that noise, those explosions of chorusgirls, sweating stage hands, cursing director and cursing star, paint, powder, electricity, paper walls and furniture, call-bells andhand-clapping from boozy critics in front?"

"I do, " answered Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, with a glint in his eyes deepback in his head. "And so would you if you had bet about twenty thousandon that combination and could see the people begin to eat it up rightbefore your eyes as you sat in a box and watched 'em. When you've backedyour own combination of inferno on riot, it gives you a thrill to standbefore the box-office and watch a line of people that stretches to thenext block plunk down dollars that they have earned at their ownparticular combinations of life to see the combination you have made ofyours. Why, tears come into my eyes when I see some little, old, dried-up seamstress pay a dollar to sit in the roost to see GeraldHeight love the powder off of Violet while she is cursing him under herbreath for so doing, and it tickles me under my ribs to see some fat, jolly, lonely, old party buy a front seat two days hand-running to sitand watch Mazie Villines dance over her own head and take the child outto supper afterward in all propriety. It does him good all over afterselling white goods in Squeedunck, Illinois, eleven and three-quartermonths of every year. It's all to the good, Denny, and I wish you couldget the drag of it. "

"Perhaps it would be well if I could, " agreed Mr. Farraday, as he roseand shook his big, lithe body with the agility of a frolicsome puppy whoknows he is going into mischief, and looked cautiously at Godfrey. "Isbacking the life of the Violet sport, too?" he ventured. 

"Best I know. Took nothing and made it into something in five years. Ifit bites my hand that's all in the game. "

"Same force could beget and train about eleven small Vandefords intopretty good American citizens, " Mr. Farraday snapped out, and thenbacked away. 

"Absinthe cocktails ruin the taste for sweet milk. Don't talk aboutthings you know nothing about; thank God for that same ignorance, " Mr. Vandeford commanded. "Go to bed and sleep like the cherub you are, whileI expiate here with my pipe. "

From that conversation it was natural to man nature that the demand fora half-interest in the next Hawtry show would have been made by Mr. Dennis Farraday of Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, and acceded to with thebrotherly reservations already related. The eye-teeth of Mr. DennisFarraday were very precious to Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, and he had theintention of taking great care that their edges should not be dulled. Itwas well that he did not know that the eleven-fifteen train he had takenin his flight to New York passed the huge, eight-cylinder Surreness ofhis beloved Jonathan in its race up the beach for the home of theViolet. 

Now, when all is said and considered, a large admiration is due and muchshould be forgiven Miss Violet Hawtry, who, as half-starved MaggieMurphy, had darted out of the gutter into the back stage-door at the ageof fifteen, snapped her huge violet eyes with their fringes of black, trilled a vulgar, Irish street song in accompaniment to sundryprovocative swayings of her lissome, maturing young body, and thus hadmade enough impression on her world to hang on by the tips of herfingers until she dropped into the outstretched arms of Mr. GodfreyVandeford, who was prowling around Weehawken and the vicinity for justsuch ripe fruit as she when he was casting his first musical girl-showfor the purpose of some violent excitement after a snowed-in winter inthe Klondike. 

He had taken her to an old stage-mother he knew, had her thoroughlywashed, combed, manicured, dressed, schooled, and had given her thebenefit of his respect for five years while she worked up into the starof "Dear Geraldine" with all the might of the Irish eyes and lissomefigure and cooing, creamy voice. He had then built Highcliff in theartist's colony of the Beach for the joint domicile of mother anddaughter. However, it is easier to bathe, comb, manicure, andluxuriously clothe a body than it is to renovate a soul, and within theViolet Maggie dwelt in all her gutter vigor. It is also safe to say thatperhaps it was no little part of the Maggie that the beautiful andhaughty Violet threw across the footlights to draw to her the primitivein the hearts of her vast audiences. It was to some extent the wisdom ofMaggie that the Violet was using as she prepared for her first encounteralone with Mr. Dennis Farraday as he raced down the moonlit beach toher. 

"Not the violet and jet, Susette, but that white embroidered lisle, andtake time to sew three inches of tulle around the top of the bodice infront and put folds five inches deep across the back. Let it come justbelow the shoulder, " she commanded, as she commenced the whirlwind of atoilette with which, she had assured the hurrying Dennis, she wasalready adorned. 

"_Mais_, Mademoiselle--" Susette began. 

"He'd shy at too much omitted clothing when we are alone. I'll have tointroduce him to myself gradually, " she answered the protest, laughingas she tossed her pale, yellow mane high on her head, and dabbed alittle curl against her cheek with the rose oil, and made a skilful useof the lip-stick brought by Mr. Godfrey Vandeford from the famedCeleste's. 

"He will behold that Mademoiselle Simone dance with very few garments_alors_, " Susette pouted as she laid in the folds of modest tulle. 

"But he won't be alone in the moonlight with her, that is, if I can helpit, " answered the mistress, as she further perfumed and painted the lilyof her beauty. "Don't worry, Susette; I'm going to give monsieur thetime of his life. "

"That is without saying, Mademoiselle, " answered Susette, as she slippedthe silky fluff over the Violet's head, and fastened the one or twohooks that held it in place over the filmy undergarments in which theViolet stood waiting for its veiling. "_Mon Dieu_, what a beauty itgives you, and that placing of the tulle is _ravissant_. "

"That is what I meant it to be, " laughed the Violet. "There's his car!Bring me that orchid wrap when I ring for it. " And leaving theadmiration of Susette, the Violet hurried down to drink from the cup ofthe same vintage she was sure would be offered her by Mr. DennisFarraday. It was offered. 

"It's awfully good of you people to help a poor lonely dub to a pleasantevening, " were the words with which the victim greeted the Violet, whilehis eyes offered the expected portion of admiration as he beheld herbathed in the radiance of the moon. 

"Sure the pleasure is ours--or rather mine, poor old Van, " she answered, with not a little trepidation well hidden under her rich voice. 

"Couldn't you wake him up, the old scout? Let me get to him. I have away with him I learned in the Nova Scotia woods. " Mr. Farraday laughed abig laugh, which had in it the tang of the breeze in the tops ofpine-trees. But the Violet was ready for him. 

"He's not there for your torture. The poor darling got a telephonemessage just twenty minutes ago to come back to New York to-night. I'vejust motored him up the beach to catch the eleven-fifteen train. Someday that tiresome Dolph will follow Van about some play snarl into--intoParadise. "

"He did that to-night, didn't he?" asked Mr. Farraday, with a merrylaugh as he ruffled his red forelock up off his broad brow, and madehimself look like a huge, tame lion. 

"Away with your blarney, boy!" laughed the Violet, in return, using herMaggie Murphy form of speech with telling effect, as she often did. "Heleft a thousand apologies for you, " she added, slipping back into herveneer of the--for Maggie--upper world. "And you've had your race downfor nothing; poor Simone!"

"Oh, I say, can't we just go on over to supper at the Beach Inn? TheClyde Trevors asked me, and we can have supper with them. Wouldn't youlike that? We can tell them about poor Van. " He was as eager as a boy inhis friendly efforts to mend what he thought must be a broken eveningfor her. 

"I'd love it, " answered the Violet, with a flash of her white teeth andviolet eyes at him. 

After a summons Susette appeared with the alluring orchid garment, and awhite film of seed-pearls for her mistress's hair. She assisted theViolet's discreet Japanese butler to put them into the big car, whichMr. Farraday was driving himself, and then stood for a minute watchingthem hurl themselves away across the white sand. 

"_Quelle vie!_" she muttered to herself as she turned back into thedarkened house. 

The Beach Inn was aglow and atwinkle and in full laugh as they ascendedthe steps of the wide veranda hung out over the ocean, where members andguests were having supper at small tables lit with shaded lamps. Men andgirls, in bathing suits that were lineal descendants of the scantfig-leaf, were eating and drinking together sparsely because of theirintention of taking a midnight plunge in the breakers under the hotmoon, while other women in radiant evening garb were almost as scantilyattired, though attended by stuffily garbed men. Most of the partiesturned and called a laughing greeting to the Violet, for they were themen and women of her world disporting themselves away from Broadway, andClyde Trevor, who had written the book for "Miss Cut-up, " rose and cameover to claim his guests. 

"Lost Van?" he questioned, as he led them to their seats beside Mrs. Trevor, who had danced fifty thousand dollars out of New York the winterjust ended. His voice held a hint of irony, which the Violet got and Mr. Dennis Farraday missed. 

"Not quite yet, " she said, with a coo at which Trevor smiled, and underhis breath he gave her the word, "Good hunting!"

"Thanks. "

"Old Van had to hop back to New York on the eleven-fifteen, but we cameon to glad with you anyway, " Mr. Farraday was saying to Mrs. Trevor, with an ingenuous smile. 

"Go to it, baby, " commanded Trevor to his wife, as a rich negro melodybegan to fling its invitation against the roaring call of the ocean, andat his word Simone rose from the seat of Mrs. Trevor and slid out intothe cleared space at the head of the steps. 

"Just in time, " commented Mr. Farraday under his breath, as he turnedhis chair to watch her drop her silk coat, and float out on the waves ofsound just as she would later float on the waves of the ocean after shehad plunged from the steps to lead the midnight bathing in the surf, forwhich the management of the inn paid her the sum of two hundred dollarsper plunge. 

All of this gaiety and amusement was just a prelude to the ride home inthe moonlight, which the Violet took with good Dennis Farraday andduring which she discovered that there is such a thing as honor amongmen about poaching on other men's preserves, and during which, also, thefate of Major Adair, Patricia, Roger, and old black Jeff hung in thebalance. 

"Just what are we racing?" she questioned as they flew along the beachwith rubber tires that just skimmed the hard, white sand. 

"A bit fast?" asked Mr. Farraday, with a protective laugh, as he sloweddown the flight. 

"Let's loaf and talk a while, " the Violet answered, with a tentativenote of invitation in her voice. 

"I had thought you and Van and I would have a great powwow over theplay this evening, and it's fierce that he had to get back to thatfurnace a night like this, but we can limp along on a few ideas withouthim, maybe. What do you think of 'The Purple Slipper'?" As he set thecar at an easy pace he turned and looked down at the lovely face so nearhis shoulder with a great and extremely boyish enthusiasm, which wasvery delightful and very irritating to the Violet. 

"What do you think about it? You tell first, " she said with a smile thatanswered his enthusiasm adequately and which served to cover withagility the fact that she had not read the play. 

"Well, at first it seemed a queer kind of vehicle for you, but as I readon I could see you queening it in all those furbelows of dress as wellas adventure and sentiment. It's a little serious in situation, but itis full of comedy adventure in line, and I can just see the audience eatyou up in it. I told Van so, and I bought in before I had read morethan half the second act. I don't feel as though I could wait to see youin that dinner scene while you hold the enemies of your spouseconfounded. I agree with Van that your emotional qualities may exceedyour comedy. "

"Does Van back my emotional acting against my comedy?" the Violet asked, with barely concealed surprise in her voice. 

"He does. He says that 'The Purple Slipper' is going to be the sensationof Broadway for the early fall, and I agree with him. Do you feel assure of it as he says you are?"

"Yes, " answered the Violet, and by her assent in premeditated ignoranceof the contents of the play manuscript she put the second cross on theproduction which made it a double on the fate of Mr. Dennis Farraday asa theatrical producer. However, that fact may have been balanced by thefact that it was the third cross on the fate of Miss Patricia Adair. Crosses on fates in the world of Broadway go in singles, doubles, andthrees, and no man can tell their exact significance. 

"Good!" answered Mr. Dennis Farraday, with another and still broadersmile of gratification and admiration of the Violet as an artist--asmile which further infuriated, but equally inspired her. "And what agrand time we'll all have putting it across! I'm going to help Van seeactors for the cast on Friday, and I'm going to sit in on rehearsalsstraight through. I'm due a month's vacation, and I'm going to have mymail from the office relayed back to New York from the yacht offNantucket so that bunch of money grubbers can't find me. Think of havingthe honor of being co-producer for Violet Hawtry for my first shot!"

All of which enthusiasm and admiration went like wine to the head of theViolet, though it left her heart uncomfortably cold; and beautiful, coolmoonlight heats the heart of a fair woman when it is not more than twofeet away from that of a brave and fair man. 

"Sure I'll make it a success for you, man dear!" Maggie Murphy in theViolet made an attempt to put a glow into the situation, using thebrogue that was like rich cream poured over peaches, as she snuggled herbare shoulder, from which the orchid wrap had slipped, with a naturallittle shiver against good Dennis's wheel arm. 

"You and Van are trumps to take me in for the fun, and I'm no endgrateful to you both, " was all she got for her manoeuver. 

"Yes--Van is a dear, " she hedged in a matter-of-fact voice. 

"Yes, and I suppose after my co-first night with him the old scout willstop baiting me about blinking the white lights. I always have beenobliged to beat Van at any game before I could rest in peace. " And atthe thought of getting in at his David big Jonathan laughed heartilyjust as he began to slow up the car for the turn along the sea-wall thatled under the porch of Highcliff. 

"Have you ever competed with him in the biggest game of all?" theViolet asked softly, as the car swept into the shadow and stopped by thebroad stone steps. 

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Farraday, with a countenance so openand a voice so hearty that the Violet, used to artifice from everybody, suspected that they could not be real, and this suspicion made her giveup the game for the time being. She laughed with a mocking sweetness asshe sprang out of the car and to the top of the steps before he couldhelp her. 

"Some day I'll tell you what I mean, " she mocked from the dark doorway. "Good-night!" And while he stood at the bottom step looking up at her, she vanished into the darkness of the house, leaving him out in the coolmoonlight, a fate very different from what she had been planning for himfor several hours. 

"Just as old Van said, they are nothing but children, and I blame himabout trifling with her more than I thought I did; she's a dear thingand a little pathetic in her anxiety to make good for him. Scout hasjust got to do something about it all. She's a fine and devoted woman. And beautiful--whee-ugh!" The big thirty-year-old boy ended hissoliloquy with a whistle, which showed that in a measure he hadappreciated the dangers of the last hours. One of the eternal questionsis how can a mere man be so wicked--or so good as he is often discoveredby temptation to be?

"I'll have to be publicly and finally severed from Van before I annexhim, the boob, " was the soliloquy of the Violet as she prepared for herslumber of beauty. Another question is how thin a veneer of femininebeauty weathers indefinitely the wash of circumstances. 

Then after that moonlit night in August Fate spun her web, which shecalled "The Purple Slipper, " rapidly, and for a number of the peopleinvolved life became very hectic. The center of the whirl was Mr. AdolphMeyers, though he was safely functioning with power behind the throneoccupied by Mr. Godfrey Vandeford's nonchalant and elegantly cladfigure. 

"But Mr. Vandeford, sir, it is never before that you have produced aplay without a reading, " he remonstrated on the morning of the day setfor the picking of the cast from those probably suitable chosen byChambers, the invaluable agent of the great army of those theatricallyemployed. "Actors will be here from twelve o'clock even to six. How willa choice be made?"

"I'm trusting to your hunch about the purple manuscript falling on theday of the Violet letter, Pops, " answered Mr. Godfrey Vandeford. "Makeout a little memorandum against each name that tells me what to pick. Ilike the idea of going it blind that way: it may be lucky. And, Pops, split that five-thousand-dollar check of Mr. Farraday's in three ways. Pay Lindenberg two-fifty as his advance on the scenery for 'The RosiePosie Girl, ' provided he furbishes up something that will do for thelittle road sally of Violet's spanking-machine, to be emblazoned as'The Purple Slipper' on the cheapest black bills ever run off in NewYork. Give Hugh Willings a thousand advance for the music of 'The RosiePosie Girl, ' but make him write as many as six waltz songs even if youare sure the first is a hit; it is good to make people, specially anykind of artists, work for the money you pay 'em. The other fifteenhundred you had better put off by itself as a starter on the Violet'sgowns. She likes to pay an Irish woman with a French name three hundreddollars for six dollars' worth of chiffon sewed with seventy-five cents'worth of silk. "

"What is for costumes for the 'Purple Slipper'?"

"Oh, any old dolling up will do for that. The women can wear whatthey've got and the men borrow or rent. " With a wave of the cigarette inhis hand, Mr. Vandeford dismissed the scenic effects of the play forwhose début Miss Elvira Henderson was concocting a dream costume toadorn the author for receiving triumphal plaudits. 

"But, Mr. Vandeford, sir, it is a costume play of a period, " the humblepower behind the throne pleaded. 

"Oh, is it? Then rent the nearest layout to its date that Grossmidt hasfor all of 'em in a lump, and make him give you a bargain. Tell him theywon't be worn more than two weeks. I guess Violet will be in line bythat time. " With which significant order Mr. Godfrey Vandeford turnedfrom the anxious Mr. Meyers to answer the tinkling telephone at hiselbow. In a second he was speaking to the most eminent stage director onBroadway. 

 . . . . . . 

"Yes, this is Godfrey Vandeford, Bill. "

 . . . . . . 

"Yes. Called to know if you would like to stage a little show for meright away. "

 . . . . . . 

"Yes. I'm going to give Hawtry a little canter before 'The Rosie PosieGirl. ' New line for her, and doubtful. Like to take hold for apittance?"

 . . . . . . 

"Oh, yes, that three hundred a week for the 'Posie Girl' goes, ofcourse, but this play is just a Hawtry whim that I have got to let herget out of her system. One hundred a week is my limit, and you ought todo it for seventy-five. You can sit in your chair all the time for all Icare. "

 . . . . . . 

"Now you get me--a hundred it is. Let her have her head and work offsteam before we start 'The Rosie Posie. ' Yes, Willings is doing theRosie songs for us. They'll be hot stuff. "

 . . . . . . 

"Yes, Corbett's making sketches for 'The Rosie Posie' scenery now. We'llstart 'The Purple Slipper' on Monday. Yes, that's its blooming name. By!"

 * * * * *

"Is it William Rooney to stage 'The Purple Slipper'?" asked Mr. Meyers, with a shrug of his narrow shoulders as he began pecking out on hismachine the notes that were to guide his chief in picking the artistswho were to embody the characters in the play founded on the liferomance of that old grandame Madam Patricia Adair of colonial Kentucky. 

"Why do you reckon Samuel Goldstein likes to build up a reputation forhimself on Broadway by the name of William Rooney, Pops?" inquired Mr. Vandeford, with the idle curiosity of a free and untroubled mind. 

"It is the prejudice against Hebrews for a reason, " answered Mr. Meyers, with a glint in his gem-like eyes and a wave of color flushing acrosshis high, scholarly forehead. 

"Well, the top crust of the whole show business is Hebrew, and I shouldthink the bunch of you would be proud of the fact. I'm even proud that aman named Adolph Meyers runs this whole company, and me included, " saidMr. Vandeford, without taking the trouble to note the wave of gratifiedpride, devotion, and embarrassment that swept over the countenance ofhis faithful henchman. "Now I'll get a little booking for your 'PurpleSlipper, ' and that is all you need expect me to do, except shoulder allthe loss I haven't shunted on Denny. "

"It is to be a win, not a loss, " murmured the loyal Adolph under hisbreath, with a glance of affection at the absorbed Mr. GodfreyVandeford. 

This vow of Mr. Adolph Meyers shows that it is as dangerous to arousethe affection and loyalty of one genius as it is to incur the anger ofanother. 

The casting of "The Purple Slipper" was a joy to Mr. Dennis Farraday. Hewas to pay well for it in the future, but it was conducted in pure glee. He sat beside Mr. Godfrey Vandeford in the latter's long, Persiancarpeted, soft-tinted, and famous-actor-photograph-bedecked, privateoffice beside that eminent producer, and watched the strong light fromover their shoulders reveal the points of the men and women who came into exhibit themselves. From the moment they entered the door, throughthe walk or waddle or lope or saunter with which they approached theirfate to the expressions of joy or disappointment which their emotionsshowed under Mr. Godfrey Vandeford's grilling, Mr. Farraday was deeplyinterested. 

"You know, Bébé, it is not necessary to put on more than a hundred extrapounds when in training for the heavy mother, " he genially admonished avery large lady of uncertain age--an age artfully covered with rouge, powder, pencil, and lip-stick--who sank into the chair facing him with apathetic remnant of the former lissome grace which had got her as far asbeing a dependable leading woman to any star who could go her a fewpoints better. 

"Well, it's not from living on large salaries from you that I have puton the pounds, Mr. Godfrey Vandeford!" she answered with a jovial laugh. 

"Still eating half of old Wallace Kent's salary checks?" Mr. Vandeforddemanded. This seemed a lack of delicacy to Mr. Dennis Farraday, whoblushed with a color equal to that which rose in the cheeks of the oldbeauty as her eyes snapped and she rose to her feet. 

"As you know, he's feeding a squab chicken at Rector's to get her intothe broiler class. Good-day, sir, " and she prepared to sweep out of theoffice with all the fire she had used in many a queenly situation. 

"Good old Bébé, " Mr. Vandeford said, as he rose and put a restrainingarm around her broad waist. "I was just teasing to see what wassmouldering. How'll seventy-five a week, with costumes of frills andpowdered hair, do you? Thirty sides and the center of the stage fourtimes. " "Sides, " meaning single sheets of dialogue, puzzled Mr. Farraday, but he made a mental note to seek enlightenment. 

"I haven't had a part this winter, Godfrey, " she laughed, and sobbed onMr. Vandeford's shoulder. "I'm living in a suitcase at Mrs. Pinkham's. "

"Stop and get a twenty-five check from Dolph, and be on the job Mondayat the Barrett Theatre. Now run!" Mr. Vandeford gave Miss Bébé Herne'stwo hundred pounds of avoirdupois a gentle shove toward the door, whichhint she took with an alacrity that had in it a great deal of left-overgrace. 

"Supported a lot of big guns for years. Knows her business better thanany actress on Broadway, " said Mr. Godfrey Vandeford to his horrifiedconfrère as the door closed behind the old beauty. "Picked up WallaceKent when he was a piffling, faded juvenile, and taught him to be a goodelderly support worth his hundred to any director. He's left her flatfor a pony in the Big Show, old hound!"

"Pretty raw, " observed Mr. Dennis Farraday, with a great deal of emotionvery poorly concealed in his sympathetic voice. 

"Oh, she's had her fling in life! Dopes a bit, but can be depended upon. Next!"

This time there entered a husky, young brute of a boy with shouldersbroad enough to run a double-decker plough. His hair was long andsleeked close to his well-shaped head, but his fine mouth and chinsagged, and his eyes were bold and sophisticated. In costume he was theglass and mould of Broadway fashion. 

"Reginald Leigh, " he announced himself in a nice voice, and, as hespoke, took from a case a card and laid it on the edge of Mr. Vandeford's desk. 

"Experience, Mr. Leigh?" asked Mr. Vandeford, still standing and withnot an atom of encouragement in his whole body from head to toe. 

"College dramatics and last summer in stock at Buffalo. I've worked intwo pictures for the Universal. "

"Heavy juvenile at fifty a week, " offered Mr. Vandeford, with anindifferent glance up from the paper in his hand prepared for hisguidance by the indefatigable Mr. Meyers. The word "handsome" was typedin the offer from which Mr. Vandeford made to Mr. Leigh. 

"My price is a hundred, Mr. Vandeford, " answered Mr. Leigh, verypleasantly, and he took a grip on his hat and stick that was meant toconvey the idea of immediate departure. 

"Sorry, " answered Mr. Vandeford, with a finality that staggered Mr. Dennis Farraday; for the youngster's looks and charm were so evidentthat it pained him to see "The Purple Slipper" lose them. "Costumeshistorical, furnished, " added Mr. Vandeford, with increasedindifference. 

"Oh, in that case--" murmured the boy, almost, but not quite, unleashinghis eagerness. 

"Just leave your telephone number with Mr. Meyers in the outer office, please. Good-morning, Mr. Leigh, " was the answer his concession gotalong with the dismissal in the "good-morning, " which was spoken in sucha tone that it was obeyed in short order. 

"That is a find, " said Mr. Godfrey Vandeford to the gasping Mr. DennisFarraday. "Handsome young chaps who have any kind of manliness are hardto find these days. Too busy to be actors. "

"Why didn't you engage him?" further gasped his partner in the adventureof "The Purple Slipper. "

"I'll let him cool his heels, to get some of the know-it out of hissystem. Dolph will make him come around and beg in less than twenty-fourhours. "

"See here, Van, these people are artists to whom you are trusting yourmoney and reputation as a producer, and you treat them like--"

"The foolish children that they are, " interrupted Mr. Vandeford. "Next!"and he pressed a button under his desk that buzzed for Mr. Meyers's earsalone. 

The next three applicants were girls, who respectively giggled, glowered, and simpered. Mr. Godfrey Vandeford chose the two who gloweredand simpered and got rid of the giggler by referring her telephonenumber to Mr. Adolph Meyers. 

"That second that you sent away was the prettiest of the bunch, "commented Mr. Dennis Farraday, with interest that had survived to thatpoint with undiminished intensity. 

"Not at home under that little cocked hat. That giggle was the whole bagof tricks, " instructed Mr. Vandeford. "Got any men out there, Pops?" heasked through the telephone to Mr. Adolph Meyers. 

Immediately there entered a debonair, very handsome, and sleek gentlemanof uncertain age. 

"Hello, Kent, want to support Bébé in a costume play for a hundred aweek?" asked Mr. Vandeford, with not an instant's greeting in answer tothat gentleman's cordial good-morning. 

"In New York or on the road?" questioned Mr. Kent, with an assurancethat he tried to make bold. 

"To the devil if I send you there, " was the answer he got straight offthe bat. 

"A hundred with costumes?"

"With costumes. "

"Done. "

"See Dolph; but not over ten-dollar advance to save your hide. "

"He's giving fifty. "

"To whom?"

"Bébé. "

"He did that because he knew that you'd get half of what he gave her. Ten's your limit. "

"All right. Good-morning!"

"Barrett on Monday morning. "

"All right!"

With which Mr. Kent rapidly made his exit. 

"Old reprobate! But he does feed the lines to his opposite, and Bébéhappy is worth twice Bébé in a grouch. You see what the whole blamedthing is like and--" Mr. Vandeford was interrupted by the tinkle of thetelephone at his elbow. 

 . . . . . . 

"Godfrey Vandeford speaking. "

 . . . . . . 

"When did you get in?"

 . . . . . . 

"Not busy at all. "

 . . . . . . 

"The Claridge?"

 . . . . . . 

"Right away. "

 . . . . . . 

"Haven't seen or heard from him in two days. "

 . . . . . . 

"Right over. By!"

 . . . . . . 

From overhearing, as he was forced to do, this one-sided conversation, how could Mr. Dennis Farraday imagine that Violet Hawtry had come intosultry New York seeking him to devour and that his keeper was rushingaway from his presence to his defense?

"You and Pops engage the rest, Denny. You see the trick now. Nothingleft important but what Dolph puts down on this paper as 'woman supportfor character parts with looks. ' Try your hand, old man, and if you picka flivver there are plenty more to cast in and her out. By!" And beforeMr. Farraday could protest he was left alone in the inquisition-room. And as Mr. Godfrey Vandeford went down in an elevator on his way to theClaridge to deliver the next instalment of the spanking of Miss VioletHawtry, he passed a live wire going up opposite him and met one walkingdown Forty-second Street, neither of which he could be expected torecognize, as he had never seen either. 

The first of the two dynamos walked into the office of the VandefordProducing Company and failed to thrill Mr. Adolph Meyers in the least, afact for which he could never afterward account. He motioned her intothe inner office, and left her to her fate and Mr. Dennis Farraday. 

"Good-morning, Mr. Vandeford, " she said in a queer, throaty kind ofvoice that had in it a "come hither" of unusual quality, whichsuggested that in her production a Romney woman might have loved a Greekdancer well. She stood at ease before the long desk with a grace thatwas unmistakably that of complete assurance. 

"I'm not Mr. Vandeford, but his--his partner, Dennis Farraday. Er--er, won't you be seated?" and with the happy, considerate manner of his thathe had always used to all women, he offered her his own chair andappropriated the one of authority that Mr. Vandeford always occupied. 

"Thank you, " answered the young woman, with an ease equal to his own. And then they both waited while regarding each other seriously. Finallythe tension relaxed and Dennis Farraday gave a big, jovial laugh whilehe made his admission:

"I don't know a thing about the play business. I'm just sitting in withMr. Vandeford for the fun of it. "

"An angel?" asked the girl, with a laugh that somehow accorded withhis. 

"That's it. He's gone out and left me to--to cut my eye teeth. "

"On me?"

"Looks that way, " and again they both laughed. 

"Maybe I can help you, " volunteered the girl, after the laugh. "I amMildred Lindsey, and Mr. Chambers sent me in to see if I could supportMiss Hawtry. "

"Er--er, what experience?" Mr. Dennis Farraday managed to ask by fishinginto his impressions of the last two hours. 

"Five years in stock on the Pacific coast, two years in towns between, and two weeks in a flivver here on Broadway early in the spring. Deadbroke, hungry, and about ready to make good for some manager. " As theanswer was fired point-blank at him, Mr. Dennis Farraday seemed to see afire of psychic hunger blaze as high as that of wolfish, physical agonyin the girl's eyes. 

Mr. Dennis Farraday eagerly searched on the paper of guidance in castingmade out by Mr. Adolph Meyers for the benefit of Mr. Vandeford andfound "woman support, " and opposite the item of salary, seventy-fivedollars. He doubled. 

"How would a hundred and fifty a week with costumes do for salary? Youcan have a couple of weeks advance right now if you like, " he said in aneasy, nonchalant manner as much like that of Mr. Vandeford as he couldmuster, for those fires of hunger in the girl's eyes were searchingholes in Mr. Dennis Farraday's pocket. 

"It would save my life--but--but could you tell me a little about thepart? I might not be able to play it. " There were both hope and fear inher compelling voice. 

The question found Mr. Dennis Farraday unprepared by any precedentestablished in the two foregoing hours, for between the artists and Mr. Vandeford there had been alone the matter of salary to be settled andnot one of them had inquired whether they were being engaged to play aBilly Sunday or an Ethiopian slave. But in another way it found himbetter prepared than would have been Mr. Godfrey Vandeford. He had readthe manuscript of "The Purple Slipper" and Mr. Vandeford had not. 

"Well, to my uninitiated way of thinking, the supporting part is aboutas good as the leading one, " said Mr. Dennis Farraday, and forthwith helaunched out on an eager, enthusiastic resumé of the plot andatmosphere, even quoting lines of "The Purple Slipper. " And as he talkedMildred Lindsey leaned across the table toward him and fairly drank inhis words. 

"I see--it's wonderful how she keeps his enemies at bay during the firsthalf of the banquet--while she waits. It's great!" Her enthusiasmexpressed in her wonderful voice urged Mr. Dennis Farraday on and on toa fuller exposition of the play and its beauties. 

"You see, the sister is really the one to carry the plot. It is on herthat Rosalind leans, and she has to be all there in her quiet way. "

"Yes, I see, and it can be made--" At this juncture the eye of Mr. Adolph Meyer was inserted to a crack of the door and then removed as heshook his head in puzzled doubt. He had intended to intrude to therescue of his co-employer's inexperience, but he decided that the timewas not ripe by one glance at Mr. Farraday's eager face, surmounted byits rampant, red leonine locks. 

"I have pity for Mr. Farraday, " Mr. Meyers remarked to himself as heseated himself at his machine, not knowing that in a very few minutesthe second live wire would arrive in the office and this time he wouldget a shock himself. 

For a half-hour he wrote on, while the animated voices boomed and purledand bubbled in the office beyond the crack of the door he had left opento observe the first lull that might call for relief. Then he got hisshock. 

The office door opened timidly, and somebody entered so quietly that shestood beside Mr. Adolph Meyers before he had lifted his head. 

It was the author of "The Renunciation of Rosalind, " now "The PurpleSlipper, " and she looked every inch of it! Miss Elvira, the geniusguided by "The Feminist Review, " had done her best with the blue-silksuit, and Fifth Avenue could have done no better. 

"May I see Mr. Vandeford? I am Miss Patricia Adair, " she announced in arich and calm Southern voice and manner. 

Mr. Adolph Meyers sprang to his feet with the impact of the shock. 

"Mr. Vandeford is not in the office, Madam, at present, " he managed togasp. Then he followed her big, gray eyes as they rested on the crack ofthe door through which the boom of Mr. Dennis Farraday's voice mingledwith the excited chime of Miss Lindsey's laughter, and noticed as thoughfor the first time that it had emblazoned upon it in large, giltletters, "Mr. Vandeford. Private. "

"It is Mr. Dennis Farraday, the partner of Mr. Vandeford, engagingactors, Miss, in his absence. Will you walk in?" and in almost the firstpanic in which he had ever indulged Mr. Adolph Meyers showed the proudyoung author into the sanctum sanctorum from which he had barricadedmany an enraged virago who had threatened his life if he kept her froman appeal to the manager. 

"It is Miss Adair, the author of your play, Mr. Farraday, would speakwith you, " he announced across the long room, bowed in a way he hadnever done in his life, and shut the door behind Miss Adair. 

It is interesting to wonder how it would have affected the end of thewhole matter if Patricia Adair had walked in behind the giggler when Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, with all his experience with authors, was seated onthe throne instead of poor inexperienced Dennis Farraday, enjoying "ThePurple Slipper" with his newly engaged, supporting lady. 

"By jove, Miss Adair, it is little bit of all right that you should comein and catch Miss Lindsey and me chewing joy-rags over our--your play. Let me introduce Miss Lindsey, who is to support Miss Hawtry in the partof Harriet. " And bonnie Dennis, the angel, beamed with pure joy at thegood time he was having as a producer. At the very sight and sound ofhim poor Patricia, who for half an hour had been wandering up and downForty-second Street, looking for the tallest building on it, took bothcomfort and delight, and her sea-gray eyes with stars in their depthsreturned the beam of his eyes. 

"It's so wonderful that you like my play and are going to produceit--and you to act in it, Miss Lindsey, " she said as she seated herselfin the chair Mr. Farraday had drawn up for her. She looked at them bothwith respectful awe in her eyes and in her cheeks a flush of color thatcame and went as she spoke, in a way that at first puzzled Miss Lindseyas to its brand and then in turn awed her as she decided it was the realthing. The blue-silk triumph of Miss Elvira and "The Review" alsopuzzled her for a moment, but she put it down to some little FifthAvenue shop that only débutantes and authors of plays could afford, andtook it in with delight at its exquisite detail. 

"I think it is a dandy play, as Mr. Farraday has been telling it to me. Crooks and--and cut-ups are about done for, " said Miss Lindsey. She gavea quick glance at Mr. Farraday, to see if he resented the allusion toMr. Vandeford's recent failure. 

"Right-o!" agreed Mr. Farraday, with a sympathetic smile at herallusion, which passed over the head of the lady from Adairville, Kentucky. 

Then ensued more than a half-hour of the most enthusiastic discussion ofplays in general, and Miss Adair's in particular. Both Mr. DennisFarraday and Miss Mildred Lindsey were impressed with the fact that theauthor of "The Renunciation of Rosalind" had learned her business fromthe most erudite sources, and they talked Shakespeare and Fieldinguntil they at last wound themselves up into a complete pause. 

Miss Adair broke the strain. 

"I'm awfully hungry, and I don't know where to go to get something toeat, " she said, with exactly the same tone of confidence she had used inasking old Jeff for a cold muffin in between the meals of her eighthsummer. 

"By Jove, we are all hungry! You girls come with me, " exclaimed Mr. Dennis Farraday, as he jumped to his feet and looked around for his hat. 

"Thank you, but I think I had better go home to--to see about--" MissLindsey was faltering with the embarrassment of those who are both proudand hungry, when food is offered them socially. 

"Nonsense! You are coming over to the Claridge with Miss Adair and mefor a bite. Then you can come back by here and see Dolph. --Dolph, makeout a check for Miss Lindsey's advance. Shall we say one or two hundred, Miss Lindsey?" Dennis Farraday was in his element when doing the breezyprotective to two girls at once. 

"One hundred, please, " answered Miss Lindsey, with color mounting to hercheeks that underpainted that already there. She smiled with amusementat the surprise that manifested itself for an instant on the round faceof Mr. Meyers that an actress should not "grab" all offered her and thenplead for more. "But I really do feel that I had better not--go toluncheon, for I am--"

"Please do! I'd rather you would, " the eminent author urged, and sheclung to the show girl in a way that showed Dennis Farraday, accustomedto the women of her world, that vague proprieties were hovering besidethe gates that were opening for Patricia from her old world into hernew. 

"You'll have to come, Miss Lindsey, to celebrate, or we shall think youare not all for the play, " Mr. Farraday said with a finality in hisvoice that settled the matter. 

And the three of them scudded along a few blocks of the sun-steamedstreets into the coolness of the Claridge, also into the heart of asituation that had been seething for an hour between Mr. GodfreyVandeford and Miss Violet Hawtry. 

"How wonderful of you, Van dear, to find me such a play at the eleventhand three-quarters hour!" had been the volley that Violet had fired athim. 

"Glad you like it, " he had parried, feeling sure that she was jockeyingwith him for position for the clinch. 

"Dennis Farraday told me that you were backing my emotional handlingeven more than my comedy scenes. Could you for once be playing squarewith me and really looking forward to my development in gettingthis--this rather remarkable kind of a play for me?"

"I've done my best for you for five years, Violet, " he quietly answeredthe insult, as he looked across the empty white tables that stretchedaway from Violet's favorite and reserved seat in the black and golddining-room. 

"'Miss Cut-up, ' for instance?"

"There were several ways to put that play across. You had your way inevery particular. Mine might have succeeded, " was his calm answer. 

"The really amusing thing about you is that you don't at all know howlittle brains you have, " was the polite broadside delivered him asViolet began to sip the clear coffee from her cup. 

"Same to you, " was the reply she received. Godfrey spoke in agood-natured tone of voice. "Now, what did you come to town to talkabout--'The Purple Slipper'?"

"Why did you leave Highcliff like a thief in the night?"

"Did you read the deeds Dolph gave you when he went up to pack mypersonal effects?"

"Yes, thanks! I suppose you consider Highcliff the price of yourfreedom?"

"And cheap at that. "

"Then why not turn me over to Weiner?" Violet asked in a dangerous toneof voice that made Mr. Vandeford glance around with apprehension to seewho would witness the explosion if it occurred. 

"I tried to buy Denny off yesterday, but you fastened 'The PurpleSlipper' firmly in his head, maybe his heart, the other evening, and itwould be like taking candy from a child. Maybe you can--can influencehim to let go--if I give you the chance. " There was something coollyinsulting in his voice that told Violet he had surmised her intentionsand the failure of her assault on his big Jonathan. 

"Your usual impertinence! I'll get him yet, just to spite you. I'll goin and play that 'Purple Slipper' to win, and--"

"Again Miss Adair breaks in on enthusiasm for her play. " DennisFarraday's big voice boomed right at the elbows of the embattled pair. "Look who's here, Van!"

Mr. Godfrey Vandeford looked up quickly, and as quickly rose to hisfeet. And with one glance into slate-gray eyes behind long blacklashes--eyes filled with awed, worshipful gratitude to him--his heartrose in his breast and all but flitted out upon his sleeve. 

"Miss Adair, Mr. Vandeford, the producer of your play, " good Dennisflourished. "And Miss Violet Hawtry! In fact, the whole happy family!"

CHAPTER III

Now, by all rules of the game, it was the prerogative of Miss VioletHawtry to take charge of a situation in which the star of a play meetsthe author; but she missed her cue, and the gutter instinct within hersat dumb and dumfounded before the lady from Adairville. 

"I'm charmed to meet you, Miss Hawtry, " Miss Adair assured her, with aglance of such admiration and friendliness that even Violet'snarrow-gage soul expanded into a variety of graciousness all its own, and she smiled back into the eyes of the young author with a radiancethat had the semblance of warmth. 

"And this is Miss Lindsey, whom we have chosen to support you in ourplay, Miss Hawtry, " Mr. Dennis Farraday continued, with a glance ofrespectful awe at the Hawtry, which matched that given her by theauthor a second before and obtained for Miss Lindsey a cordial enoughrecognition of the introduction only slightly to frappé her instead offreezing her entirely. "We are all hungry, " he added after the change ofcivilities. 

"You are all having luncheon with me, " Mr. Vandeford found his voice tosay. Ignoring Violet's glance of indignation at this skilful avoidanceof a climax of her scene with him, he had three extra covers laid at thecorner table devoted to the services of Miss Hawtry. 

"I warned you that we were hungry, Van, " said Mr. Farraday, as he beganto search through the menu for an article of diet safe to pour inquantities into a girl who had long been empty. "How'd rare steak andfresh mushrooms do?" he asked, and he looked away from what he was surewould be in the eyes of Miss Lindsey, and which was there. 

"Wonderful!" she murmured. 

"Right-o, for you and Miss Lindsey, but what about nightingales' tonguesfor my author?" laughed Mr. Vandeford, with an interested note in hisrich voice, which caused Miss Hawtry to look at him sharply and MissAdair to repeat the blush to such a degree that Miss Hawtry, as MissLindsey before her, was forced to admit that it was native and notimported. The flush did not pass unnoticed by Mr. Vandeford, as helaughed again with a question as to her nourishing. 

"I want something that I don't know what the name means, " calmlyreturned Miss Adair, with delighted excitement at the thought ofadventuring into a land of strange food. "I know steak and ham and eggsand chicken and turkey. "

"Will you trust me?" asked Mr. Vandeford. There was an eagerness in hisvoice and smile that again made the Violet glance at him and then at Mr. Dennis Farraday. The latter was beaming with mirth at the dilemma offeeding the young author who was so frankly scattering her hay-seeds onthe metropolitan atmosphere. At that instant Miss Hawtry made amomentous decision. 

"Trust Mr. Vandeford and you can't go wrong, " she advised with peachesand cream in her voice, and for some unknown reason Mr. Vandeford wouldhave been glad to twist the creamy throat from which issued the creamyvoice. Instead, he turned, calmly summoned the head waiter, and wentinto a conference with him in a few very discreet words, which the restcould not hear, though there was no sign of any intention of keeping theconsultation from them. 

"I think it will be wonderful not to know until I taste it and maybe notthen!" exclaimed the author, with another of her sea-gray, long-lashedglances of worshiping admiration at Mr. Vandeford, the eminent Broadwayproducer who was putting a great star into her play based on theadventures of an ancestress. 

Of course the situation was dangerous to both Mr. Vandeford and hisauthor, but who was to blame?

And the jolly, impromptu luncheon-party was not the kind of episode thatcould soon be forgotten by any of the guests. The unknown food for theauthor was served by the head waiter himself, and he refused to answerquestions as to its origin or component parts, even when urged by Mr. Dennis Farraday. The expression on Miss Lindsey's face after herencounter with the steak and mushrooms, served with an exalted bakedpotato, was one of decided relaxation. The look of affection in her eyesas she glanced at the author who had dragged her into this foodsituation rivaled the suddenly rooted admiration which beamed in theeyes of Mr. Dennis Farraday and which put Miss Hawtry alertly on watch, so much so that Mr. Godfrey Vandeford was privileged to lean back in hischair behind a mist of cigarette-smoke and let his eyes gleam where theylisted. 

"Now tell us just how you happened to think of all the wonderful thingsin your play, Miss Adair, specially that dinner situation, " Mr. DennisFarraday urged. He was lighting Miss Hawtry's cigarette, to the intense, though concealed, interest and astonishment of Miss Adair of Adairville, Kentucky. He thus asked sincerely and interestedly the usual questionthat the unsophisticated fires at an author at the first opportunity andwhich the author, no matter how sophisticated, really enjoys answering. 

And thereupon followed the story of the old letters in the trunk, withthe mortgage only so lightly and proudly alluded to that the hearts ofthe listeners were decidedly touched, told by the author with thedelighted enthusiasm that their sympathy warranted. 

"And so you see, since it couldn't be oil-wells or gold mines it had tobe the play, " she ended, quoting herself in her conversation with thefaithful Roger, who was at that moment following his plow with his mindon the straight furrows and his heart in New York. 

"You are a precious darling, and your play _must_ succeed!" said MissLindsey impulsively at the end of the recital, and then she quicklyglanced at Mr. Godfrey Vandeford to see if he resented her taking thisaffectionate liberty with his distinguished author. She found thateminent producer not at home to her glance; he was lost in contemplationof tears that hung on the long black lashes that veiled Miss Adair'sgray eyes and a little quiver that manifested itself on her red lips. Then she shook off the tears by lifting those long lashes so that shecould look straight into his eyes with a smile of absolute confidence inhis intention and ability to remove from her life forever all of herdistress, which was alone poverty in the concrete, by being thesuccessful producer of her wonderful play. Men of Godfrey Vandeford'stype admit many strange fires and their votaries into the outer templeof their hearts, but they keep the inner shrine tightly surrounded byasbestos curtains. However, there is always one, and one only, closelyguarded entrance through which the ultimate woman must slip in anunguarded moment. Mr. Godfrey Vandeford would never have thought ofbeing on any particular guard against the author of a play in purpleribbons entitled "The Renunciation of Rosalind, " but he knew almostinstantly that something dire had happened to him as he sat and writhedat the thought of his plans for the extinction of that piece of dramaticart, which he had not even read. The whole sophisticated world hasdecided that there is no such thing as love at first sight, except thebiological scientists and they know and can prove that such a thing doesexist and that it is a worker of wonders. And dire pain is one of itsreactions. 

But all agony comes to an end and so did Mr. Vandeford's. Miss Hawtry, who had been so busy in her own mind with her own schemes that she hadno time to listen to Miss Adair's, picked up her gloves from beside herfinal coffee-cup, and pulled the fine-meshed veil down over herbeautiful, though slightly snubbed, nose as a signal for a separation ofthe group of feasters. 

"May I motor you to your hotel, Miss Adair?" she asked very sweetly. Ofcourse Patricia did not know that she had got in her invitation at thefirst signal of the feasters' disintegration, which she herself hadgiven, for the purpose of forestalling a similar invitation from Mr. Farraday, whose Surreness she knew must be moored somewhere near. "Whereare you stopping?" she asked with very little interest, and received ananswer that almost upset her equanimity. 

"I'm staying at the Young Women's Christian Association, " calmlyannounced the author of "The Purple Slipper, " with no sense ofembarrassment in either voice or manner. "Thank you for offering to takeme there, but Mr. Farraday is going to take Miss Lindsey and me to buy ahat at a place which Miss Lindsey knows of. She is going to buy one, too, now that she is going to play in our play. "

"The Y. W. C. A. ! Great guns!" muttered Mr. Vandeford under his breath, while the Violet leaned back in her chair and fanned herself. 

Then very suddenly Mr. Vandeford sat up and looked at Miss MildredLindsey keenly for half a second. 

"We'll have to go back to the office to get that check for Miss Lindseybefore we go hat-hunting, " announced good Dennis, with a calmness thatmade Mr. Vandeford suspect that he had met the fact of the eminentauthor's abiding-place before and had got used to it. "You and MissHawtry going over to the office, Van, or will you come with us, if shehas other folderols to follow in a different direction?"

"I am to see Adelaide about my costumes for 'The Purple Slipper' attwo-twenty, so must forego the pleasure of--of hat-hunting thisafternoon, " Violet murmured faintly. "But I know Mr. Vandeford willadore going with you. " Miss Hawtry felt that safety lay in numbers, andshe preferred to leave the unsophistication of Miss Adair with both Mr. Godfrey Vandeford and Mr. Dennis Farraday than with either of themalone. 

"I wish I could get out after the hat, but you people must remember thatI am putting on 'The Purple Slipper, ' and I have to be about MissAdair's business while old Denny buzzes about hat roses, free and equalwith her, " answered Mr. Vandeford. His envy, apparent in his voice, ofthe care-free state of Mr. Farraday was very real, though none of theothers could guess its meaning. "I'll see all of you later. By!" andwith a sign to the head waiter, which tied tight Mr. Farraday'spurse-strings, Mr. Vandeford left them while the going was good. Sodetermined was his exit that Miss Hawtry could not keep him back for thefinish of the fight. 

And Mr. Vandeford was in a mortal hurry. He had much to do and undo. Hearrived at his office, three squares away, slightly out of breath. 

"Did you see her, Pops?" he demanded of Mr. Adolph Meyers. 

"I did, Mr. Vandeford, sir, and here is a carbon of the letter I senther, not with any encouragement to come to New York at all, " and inself-defense he handed out to Mr. Vandeford a copy of the letter Rogerhad delivered to Patricia among her roses and young onions andstring-beans. 

"Take it away, " commanded Mr. Vandeford, seating himself at his desk andwildly shunting papers and letters about. 

"Mr. Vandeford, sir, I am sorry for that young lady and I ask you tohave a heart, " Mr. Meyers ventured to say to his chief with a boldnesswhich he himself could not understand, but with which Mr. Vandeford wasstrangely patient. He ended with, "It will be a nobleness for you to notproduce a cold show for her, but pay a small damage sum for such abeautiful lady and call it all off. "

"My God, Pops, I'd give half the 'Rosie Posie' to be able to do it! ButDenny and Violet and that girl they engaged for support have alreadyfilled her full of success dope about the play, and if I call it offarbitrarily, where shall I stand with her?" Ignorance of thecompleteness of his own capitulation to the faith and tears in thesea-gray eyes, and the genuine, grown-on-the-spot blush from Adairville, Kentucky, showed in the consternation with which he asked the questionof his henchman. 

"'Stand with her'!" repeated Mr. Meyers, with a consternation thatmatched his chief's, but was of different origin. "You had no such fearwhen you called off from rehearsals in the second week the comedy of Mr. Hinkle, and a fourth of the damages paid to him will to her be--"

"Get to work under your hat, Pops, get to work! The 'Purple Slipper' hasgot to go on Broadway and go big. I followed that purple hunch for purecussedness against Violet, and now watch it lead me by the nose. Youget Gerald Height on the wire as soon as you can, while I talk toRooney. "

"But, Mr. Vandeford, sir, it is not a Hawtry play, and--"

"Get busy, get busy, Pops! Put a copy of that manuscript on my deskwhere I can lay hands on it the minute I get a chance. Get everythinggoing for a week later than I first called the show and--"

 * * * * *

"Here we are!" exclaimed Mr. Dennis Farraday, as he burst into the outeroffice, ushering as a wedge before him Miss Patricia Adair and MissMildred Lindsey. "Got that hat-check, Pops? Money, I mean, for MissLindsey, not a pasteboard for your own lid from some hotel. "

For a minute Mr. Vandeford lost himself in the depths of the worshiping, gray eyes that seemed to have been lifted to his for all eternity inthat terrible faith and gratitude. Then he went into action as captainof the ship which was to come into the port of Adairville, Kentucky, with all sails set, loaded or bearing his dead body. 

"You and Miss Adair extract money from Pops with a can-opener while Idiscuss a few details with Miss Lindsey, in the office, " he commandedcoolly, ushered Miss Lindsey into the sanctum and softly closed thedoor. 

"Mr. Vandeford, " Miss Lindsey began rapidly, "I knew it wasn't fair tomake any definite arrangements with Mr. Farraday, and of course I willtake whatever salary you--"

"Where do you live, Miss Lindsey?" Mr. Vandeford interrupted to ask witha totally unwarranted interest on the part of a manager in the affairsof an actor he has engaged. Miss Lindsey, for the second time that day, underpainted her own cheeks and laughed as she answered:

"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me, but I also live at theY. W. C. A. , though I give Mrs. Parkham's as my address for letters andtelephone calls. It's cheap and--and I have done dining-room work therefor a month, waiting--waiting for--for a part in a play. "

"Great guns, how that hunch works!" exclaimed the well-known producer, as he sank into his chair from positive weakness. "You take in thissituation, don't you?" he demanded with a quick recovery. 

"I think I do, " answered Miss Lindsey. Then she lifted her big blackeyes, in which shone the psychic hunger, though that of the body hadbeen appeased. "I've got to make good, Mr. Vandeford, and I'll doanything you want me to. I've got every right--to live at the Y. W. C. A. , and a right to hand food to--to that child in there. You can trustme. "

"I believe I can, " Mr. Vandeford answered, after looking at her keenlyfor a few seconds with the glance with which he had picked his winnersor failures in the human comedy for many experienced years. "Stop yourdining-room work at the nunnery and see that she has a good time, justyou and she together. I'll send you matinée tickets to shows I want herto see, and Mr. Farraday and I'll look after the other amusement. I wanther to meet only the people I introduce her to, and the Y. W. C. A. Isthe best place to live in New York--for her. Understand?"

"Yes. "

"Find out how much money she has. "

"I know now; she told me. She's got a ticket home, good until Octoberfirst, and a hundred dollars to last until--until the royalties come infrom the play. Those royalties have got to come in, too, or hergrandfather--" Miss Lindsey's voice was positively belligerent as shebegan to put the situation up to Mr. Vandeford, whose heart, as that ofa theatrical manager, she felt, must be hard by tradition. 

"Yes, I know all about that. You get what money you want from Mr. Meyersout there, and fool her about what things cost as much as you can--untilthe royalties come in. Let me know when things don't run smoothly forthe two of you. Of course, this is worth money to you and--"

"I don't want money for--for--looking after her. "

"How much did Mr. Farraday offer you for your part?"

"He doubled it when he saw that I was--was hungry, but I know a hundredand twenty-five is right and that's all I expect. "

"The one-fifty stands. If all goes well I'll see you get your chance onBroadway this winter. We understand each other now; don't we?"

"Yes. "

"Then get the hat quest going. I'm busy. "

"Five dollars is her outside limit. "

"Can't you juggle?"

"I'll try, but she's--well, you know what a girl like that is. "

"Go to it!" With which command Mr. Vandeford led the way into the outeroffice. A brief aside put the situation he had just adjusted into thewilling ear of his co-producer, who beamed with satisfaction at theidea of the joint nesting of these first two theatrical experiences hehad captured at the outset of his quest for adventure in the whitelights. He immediately began counting Miss Lindsey's advance into herhand, thus giving Mr. Vandeford a word alone with his eminent author, beside Mr. Adolph Meyers's big window. 

"Miss Lindsey tells me that she also lives at the Y. W. C. A. , " he saidwith a curious paternal glow in his solar plexus that he had neverexperienced before. 

"Oh, I'm so glad! I know that is foolish of me, but I am a littlefrightened. I don't know anybody in New York except you and herand--I've never been in a big city before, and only in Louisville a fewtimes with my aunt. I'll enjoy it if she will take me places and bringme back and forth to rehearsals, " and the gray eyes beamed with reliefand anticipation of being led forth from the Y. W. C. A. Into the gayworld by a competent guide. "Can we go to some of the _thè dansants_ inthe afternoon, and maybe to the Metropolitan and the Aquarium?"

"Yes, all those places and more, " assented Mr. Vandeford, with asuppressed smile at the diversity of amusements his charge had plannedin her sallies from the Y. W. C. A. "You see, it is both the duty andthe pleasure of a producer of a play to see that his author has a goodtime while in the city. " It was a surprise to Mr. Vandeford to findhimself thus stating the case inversely. 

"Oh, but I mean to work hard to help with 'The Purple Slipper, ' so I'llbe too tired to bother you much to take me places. And I know how hardyou work, so don't have me on your mind, will you, please, sir?" Thelifted curl of the black lashes and the reverential note in the soft, slurring, Blue-grass voice almost upset the staid deference with whichMr. Vandeford was conversing with the author of his new Hawtry play. 

"Oh, play producing isn't so hard on the producer and the author, sowe'll have lots of time to frolic, " he hastened to assure her, though anuneasy little pang shot into his heart as he thought of just what befellthe average author at the rehearsals of his or her play, and he took anadditional vow of protection. "Shall I come to take you to dinner and toa show to-night?"

"Oh, I'd love it, " she answered, and again the color came up under thegray eyes. "It would be wonderful to have you show me Broadway the firsttime. I could never forget that. "

Then a thought delivered a blow that laid the producer of "The PurpleSlipper" low. The afternoon was half gone, and there were dozens ofwires that he must manipulate since he had had a change of--heart, concerning "The Purple Slipper, " and dinner-time and evening were theonly hours that some of the most important could be found. 

"Oh, but I can't ask you to do that, " he exclaimed, and for almost thefirst time since the day of his graduation he felt color rise up underhis own tanned cheeks. "I have to see the stage director and a lot morepeople about some things connected with your play. Still, I can't bearto have anybody else get that first night on Broadway away from me. Ithink it is due me. " Being herself entirely sincere, Patricia recognizedthe utter sincerity of the distress in the voice of her producer whereany other woman would have been doubtful of the ready excuse comingimmediately after the invitation. 

"Then I'll just go to bed early and rest up from the trip, so that I cango with you whenever you get the time to take me. You are working for usboth about the play, and if you had rather I waited for you, that isonly fair, " Miss Adair hastened to assure him with a sincerity equal tohis own. 

"You are one good sport, " was the reply that he made her straight fromthe shoulder, for the thought of a perfectly beautiful girl going to bedin the Y. W. C. A. And covering up her head and ears from the brightlights of her first night in old Manhattan just to give a strange andreverenced man the pleasure of introducing her to the old city made aprofound impression upon him. "To-morrow night we'll wake up things onBroadway. I'll telephone you in the morning to let you know how the playis going and to see if there is anything I can do for you. Now you mustall go and let me get busy. "

"Yes, this is just about the hour that hats begin to bite well, "assented Mr. Farraday, as he removed the girls down to his car with nothought or question as to whether his services would be needed in theenterprise in which he had embarked with Mr. Vandeford. 

"Now for it, Pops!" said Mr. Vandeford as the door closed behind hisco-workers in the production of "The Purple Slipper, " whose work at thatmoment was to play at a distance from his labor. "I'm going to read thatplay, and nothing short of something that will injure its prospects ifneglected by me must disturb me. When I'm done I'll make plans with you. It will take me several hours, and you stand by every second of thetime. Get me?"

"Yes, Mr. Vandeford, sir, " answered Mr. Adolph Meyers, and he shut hisdoor into the outer office just as Mr. Vandeford closed his own with abang. 

Then for three hours or more, while the sun sank behind the Palisadesand the white lights flashed up from Broadway beneath his window likebits of futile challenges to the dying light of day, Mr. GodfreyVandeford went through the supreme agony of a long life on Broadway, andwas paid in full for every double-cross he had administered to aconfrère. He read "The Purple Slipper" and groaned aloud from page topage. He began its perusal sitting erect in his chair, and he ended ithunched over its pages spread on his desk with his head in his hands, his fingers desperately clutching his shock of gray-sprinkled hair. Thenin a complete collapse he flung himself back in his chair, elevated hisfeet to the edge of the desk, and began literally to devour the smoke ofa small black cigar. For half an hour he sat motionless, as was hishabit when fighting all preliminary battles, and his eyes seemed to beseeing the big old monster city open its thousand gleaming eyes andchange its roar of the day to an incessant purr of a night-stalkingbeast, but in reality he was seeing and hearing a month into the future, and the spectacle thus pre-visioned was the first night of "The PurpleSlipper" on Broadway. Then very suddenly he came back into his consciousself and went into action. He rang the buzzer for Mr. Adolph Meyers. 

"Pops, get Grant Howard on the wire and ask him to come around here asquick as he can make it. If he talks straight wait an hour for him, ifhe's thick-tongued go after him yourself. Get him! Now put me on thewire with Rooney if you can find him, and make appointments withLindenberg for scenery at eleven in the morning. Ask Corbett to send anartist to talk costumes for a period play at eleven-thirty, and haveGerald Height here at twelve sharp. Don't forget to engage thatgood-looking youngster--Leigh, I think is the name--even if you have togive him a hundred advance. That's all for the present. Get Rooney forme. " Mr. Vandeford turned to his desk and began making rapid notes on apad with a huge, black, press pencil. For five minutes he spread histhoughts upon the paper in great smudges; then his telephone rang, andhe took up the receiver:

 . . . . . . 

"Yes, this is Mr. Vandeford speaking. Hello, Billy!"

 . . . . . . 

"That new Hawtry play is beginning to promise something. I'm delaying ita week, and I want you to come into it with your sleeves rolled up. Wemay make a sure-fire hit of it. "

 . . . . . . 

"Oh, no, I'll keep right on getting 'The Rosie Posie Girl' in shape, andshunt Hawtry into it as soon as she cinches the public in this play--orfails. "

 . . . . . . 

"That was just what I was going to hand you--you get four hundred a weekfor this show, but you'll have to go in and earn it. It's a departure, and you may not like it. You'll have to hammer it a lot, but I'm notsigning a single 'Rosie Posie' contract until I see this in shape. "

 . . . . . . 

"I mean it. A stage manager has to take my stuff all hot even if hethinks some of it is cold. Get me?"

 . . . . . . 

"That's good. I'll give you the completed manuscript Saturday so you canpound and set it for Monday next. "

 . . . . . . 

"That's good. By!"

With which short, but sure, wire-pulling Mr. Vandeford opened hiscampaign to double-cross his own original plans. He had hardly stoppedfixing Mr. William Rooney when Pops looked in upon him and announced Mr. Grant Howard, the eminent playwright. 

"Hello, Grant, " was Mr. Vandeford's short and unenthusiastic greeting tothe small, black-haired person with weak, pink-rimmed, blue eyes, whosauntered into the sanctum and dropped sadly into a chair with his backto the light. A cigarette hung from the left corner of his upper lip, and his hands trembled. "Been hitting 'em up?"

"Yes, " answered the playwright, laconically. 

"Broke?"

"Pretty bad. "

"Want to doctor a play for Hawtry for me by Friday next for a thousanddollars cash?"

"Cash now?"

"Cash Friday. "

"Would have to lock myself up in my apartment to do it; but Mazie's beencrying for gold-uns for a week. "

"Send Mazie to me, and I'll fix that, and hand you the thousand onFriday. Here, take this manuscript over in my other office and be readyto talk it over with me by ten o'clock. I'll see Mazie in the meantime. "Mr. Vandeford placed the precious "Purple Slipper" in the hands of a manwho at that very moment had two successful plays running on Broadway, his interest in both of which he had sold out for a mess of pottage tobe consumed in the company of Miss Mazie Villines of the "Big Show. "

"Dolph had better order me up a little cold wine to start on, " said Mr. Howard, as he rose languidly to incarcerate himself at the bidding ofMr. Vandeford. The same scene had been enacted between the two brightlights of American drama several times before with very good results. Mr. Howard's brain was of that peculiar caliber which does not originatean idea, but which inserts a solid bone construction as well as keenlittle sparklets into the fabric of another's labor, and makes the wholetranslucent where before it may have been opaque. On Broadway he wascalled a play doctor, and Mr. Vandeford was not the first manager whohad shut him up with quarts of refreshment to tinker on the play of manya literary, dramatic, bright light. 

"Dolph will give you scotch and soda to your limit, no further, "answered Mr. Vandeford, without graciousness. "I'll be here waiting foryour talk-over at ten-thirty o'clock. "

"All right. Have Mazie come for me after her show?"

"Yes. "

With which the eminent playwright betook himself to a small privateoffice which opened into the lair of Mr. Adolph Meyers. After he hadentered that retreat Mr. Meyers softly rose from his typing machine andas softly locked him in. Then he proceeded to hunt for Miss MazieVillines until he got her into conversational connection with Mr. Vandeford. They conversed in these words with great cordiality:

 . . . . . . 

"Want to earn a nice little two hundred for keeping Grant Howard workingat doctoring a play by next Friday for me?"

 . . . . . . 

"I'm giving him a thousand if it's delivered Friday. "

 . . . . . . 

"Two hundred to you. "

 . . . . . . 

"Not three!"

 . . . . . . 

"There's Claire Furniss. Grant had her at supper last night at Rector's. She's a beauty, you know. "

 . . . . . . 

"Two fifty. "

 . . . . . . 

"Goes!"

 . . . . . . 

"Good! Come get him here at my office at eleven-fifteen. Get a taxi bythe hour at your stage-door--on me--and come by for him. "

. . . . . . 

"Good girl! By!"

 * * * * *

"What a life!" Mr. Vandeford muttered to himself, then rang his buzzerfor Mr. Adolph Meyers. 

"Pops, it's eight o'clock. Go get us a couple of slabs of pie at theautomat, and then I'll go over to see Breit at the booking office. "

"Yes, sir, Mr. Vandeford, " Mr. Meyers acquiesced, and departed in searchof provender for the lion and himself. Left to himself, Mr. Vandefordfell into another trance, from which he was dragged by another tinkle ofhis telephone. 

"There'll be a wireless to my grave, " he muttered as he took down thereceiver and snapped into it:

"This is Mr. Vandeford talking. "

 . . . . . . 

"Oh, Miss Adair. Anything the matter?"

 . . . . . . 

"Speak a little closer into the phone. Miss Hawtry has asked you tosupper to-night? Mr. Farraday? And myself?"

 . . . . . . 

"Did she say I was to come for you?"

 . . . . . . 

"Do you know, I feel like a brute, but I'm going to tell you to go tobed as per promise. I've got two big guns from Broadway putting licks onthe production of 'The Purple Slipper' until the small hours to-night, right here in the office. I'll tell Miss Hawtry about it, and youcan--go to bed. "

 . . . . . . 

"Oh, yes, she'll understand. It's her play too, you see. "

 . . . . . . 

"No, you can't help me to-night, thank you just the same. How's MissLindsey? Would you like me to send my car to take you girls for a littlespin in the park to cool off before you go to bed?"

 . . . . . . 

"Her hair's wet? And so is yours? I didn't know it was raining. "

 . . . . . . 

"Oh, a mutual shampoo? Bless you both!"

 . . . . . . 

"No, you don't interrupt me when you call me. You are to call me anytime you are willing to do it, if it is every five minutes. "

 . . . . . . 

"No, I mean it. "

 . . . . . . 

"Very well then--good-night and good dreams. "

 . . . . . . 

"Can you beat it?" Mr. Vandeford smiled to himself as he hung up thereceiver. "Those two peachy girls washing each other's hair in the Y. W. C. A. , within ten blocks of the 'Follies' is to laugh--or cry. Goodlittle Lindsey! I wager she could have got 'em both forty-seven-elevendates. " Then a thought delivered a blow just above his belt in theregion of his heart. "So it's Violet's game to use her as a decoy-duckfor Denny?" he questioned himself, then gave his own answer in a softvoice under his breath. "Damn her!"

Furthermore he did not communicate with Miss Hawtry to give her MissAdair's answer to her invitation. He answered it in person, but onlyafter much had happened in the three hours intervening. 

The hours from eight to nearly ten Mr. Vandeford spent in slowlymunching the refreshment retrieved from the automat by Mr. Adolph Meyersand thinking out loud to that dignitary who took down his thoughts onpaper in cabalistic signs of shorthand. They were all notes of whatcould and must be done in the next few days in the fight for the goodfate of "The Purple Slipper. "

"I want to see that fellow Reid about that new lighting he provided forthe new Sauls show in May. I liked it in some ways and--" Mr. Vandefordwas saying when a banging on the door of the private office in which wasincarcerated the eminent playwright interrupted him. 

"Did you give him the right amount of booze, Pops?" Mr. Vandeford asked. 

"Entirely right, " answered Mr. Meyers, with his pencil still poised overhis pad. The knocking continued. 

"See what he wants, Pops, and give him a little more if you have to, "decided Mr. Vandeford, as he lit a new cigar and turned to the whirlpoolof his desk while he waited for Mr. Meyers's return. 

"Say, do you expect me to cast a Sunday School charade into a play insix days, Vandeford?" was the storm of words hurled at him as thereleased and infuriated doctor of plays hurled himself and his sheaf ofmanuscript into the door ahead of Mr. Meyers. 

"Is that what you think of it?" calmly questioned Mr. Vandeford, as heswung around in his chair. "Sit down and tell me what you intend to dofor it. "

"I'm going to rewrite the whole blamed mess for fifteen hundred dollars, that's what I'm going to do, " announced Mr. Howard with bothbelligerence and excitement in his voice and in the flash of his sicklittle eyes. 

"Is it as good--or as bad--as all that--money?" questioned Mr. Vandeford. "You'll have to show me, " he added calmly, though in thevitals of his heart he was relieved that Howard still spoke of "ThePurple Slipper" as a carcass on which to operate. 

"It's got a perfectly ripping, basic, sex-comedy idea that climaxes thethird act; the rest is piffle. "

"I thought some of the character drawing, and one or two of thesentimental bits were--actable, " Mr. Vandeford ventured, determined tosave as much of the hair and hide of Miss Adair's child as possible, enough at least to help her to recognize and claim it later. 

"Oh, we can leave enough bits to anchor the author's name, if that iswhat you mean, " the playwright admitted impatiently. "How about fifteenhundred? I won't do it for less. "

"Goes, " answered Mr. Vandeford, with the greatest ease with which he hadever dispensed five hundred dollars in all his life. "Now shoot me yourlayout of the whole thing before Mazie gets here to take you and lockyou up. "

"I'm going to take that dinner scene where the wife holds her husband'senemies and her lover at bay to see if he gets back home on asporting-chance bet with lover, and write Hawtry both back and front ofit; write her in as the virago she is and give her a chance to actherself for once. "

"Good idea, " admitted Mr. Vandeford. "But you'll have a hard timewriting a gutter girl into a grand dame, won't you?"

"Women are all alike, and the worst viragos are the grand dames. Ittakes a gutter girl to play one let loose, as they do only on rareoccasions. I've got 'em in my own family. That's the reason I'm a blacksheep turned out. Got a sister that's worse than me, only respectableand fashionable. See?"

"Yes, I see, " again admitted Mr. Vandeford. "You'll keep all theatmosphere and minor stabs in, you say?"

"Sure. They are pretty good staggers, some of the minor stuff. Lots ofit is good talk--only wandering. That woman may write something some dayif she breaks loose and goes to the devil for a while. "

"She won't, " said Mr. Vandeford, positively. 

"Never can tell, " answered Mr. Howard, with indifference. "What didMazie say?"

"She's due here for you now, " answered Mr. Vandeford, looking at hiswatch. 

"Great girl, Mazie. Cooks me dandy rice and runny eggs, and sits on theneck of every bottle in New York while I dig. Couldn't do without her. Say, tell her you are just giving me five hundred, will you?"

"She knows it's a thousand, " answered Mr. Vandeford, truthfully. "ButI'll keep the extra five hundred you are extracting dark for you. "

"That's good, and I'll tell her that I haven't got any--"

"Tell her that you haven't got any money, as usual, " were the wordswhich Mr. Howard's fair lion-tamer used to finish his sentence of appealto Mr. Vandeford for his co-operation in fraud. She had entered past Mr. Meyers with his full approval, for he felt a great relief at the sightof her and her guardianship. 

"How's Mazie?" asked Mr. Vandeford, as he rose and, with all theceremony he would have used for a grand duchess--or Miss PatriciaAdair--offered a chair to the pert little person with her funny, good-humored, rather pretty face and her very smart clothes. 

"Kicking along, Mr. Vandeford, thank you, " was the answer. "Gee, but Idid kick the limit to-night, that's sure. I put some shady shines overwhat Grant wrote into a let-down in my part for me last night in greatshape. They et it up, darling. " Her naughty face beamed on Howard. "Hawtry was in a box, left. Had a gink in soup to fish with her thatlooked like real money. Have you rented her out?"

"You folks get along and stop that taxi meter you've got running on me, "Mr. Vandeford said, answering the sally with a laugh; but it surprisedhim that there was a cold space in his vitals at the insult that thelittle trollop handed him with such comradery, guiltless of anyknowledge that it was an insult. 

"What was that about touching pitch?" he asked himself as he walkedrapidly up four blocks to the theater where Mazie had told him he wouldfind the Violet with her prey. He was just in time to meet them in thelobby. Denny was in the gorgeousness of his "soup to fish, " Mazie's andher world's term for evening attire, and the Violet in every way matchedhis good looks. 

"Why, where is Mademoiselle Innocence?" asked Hawtry, with a littlefrown, as she perceived that Mr. Vandeford was alone and not in regalia. 

"Asleep at the Y. W. C. A. , " he answered shortly. 

"Sure?" asked the Violet, with a little laugh for which he could havekilled her. 

"Why, she promised Miss Hawtry to go to supper with us and see amidnight show, " Mr. Farraday exclaimed, and there was disappointment inhis voice as he looked at Mr. Vandeford. 

"I couldn't get away from the office until just this minute, and Ididn't think I could get away this soon. Miss Adair sent her apologiesto you both, and I came over to bring them. "

"Evidently we are not to be trusted with the author, Mr. Farraday, "laughed Violet, with what good Dennis took as good nature and what Mr. Vandeford knew to be rage. 

"Well, bless the child and her beauty sleep, but don't let that kill ourevening joy. Come along, Van, and we'll go some place sufficientlydisreputable to admit a crumpled person like yourself if you wash yourhands. We can have a good powwow over the play. I want to know what youhave been doing while I was off the job chasing a hat for the author. "And the big, stupid Jonathan linked his arm in that of his anxious andhovering David and drew him along towards the Surrenese, which stoodacross the street, at the same time guiding the steps of the Violet'ssatin slippers in that direction. 

While the three walked across the narrow street Mr. Vandeford made somerapid calculations and a decision in his mind. He saw plainly that hecould not undertake to guard Mr. Dennis Farraday from the Violet and atthe same time fend Miss Patricia Adair from her wiles. He'd have tochoose between them, and in the twinkling of an eye he chose Patricia. It is said that there is a love between men "that passes the love ofwomen, " but nobody has ever witnessed it. 

"You people go on to your show--I'm all in, " he capitulated as theystood beside Mr. Farraday's car; and the heart of the Violet rejoicedwithin her. 

"I'm sure Miss Adair is getting caught up on sleep so she can go withyou to-morrow night. She's a perfect dear, and we'll put her playacross, " Hawtry cooed to him in her rich voice, and he knew that shefelt she had struck his price and bought him off. 

"If Denny falls for her he'll fall far; but I can't help it. A girl's agirl, specially from the country, " Mr. Vandeford said to himself, as hestood and watched them drive away into the white-lighted cañon ofBroadway. Then he went home and to bed. 

A man may put out his night light, stretch himself between his sheetswith the perfection of fatigue and still not sleep. There are variouscombinations of reasons that prevent his slumber. Mr. Godfrey Vandefordwas still awake when Mr. Dennis Farraday let himself into his apartmentwith a key that had been presented to him five years before when Mr. Vandeford had installed his Lares and Penates in the tall building onSeventy-third Street, some of these Lares and Penates being Mr. Farraday's extra linen and clothes. 

"That you, Denny?" Mr. Vandeford asked as he switched on his light andtook a hurried glance at a clock on his mantel which registered the hourof 2 A. M. 

"Yes, " answered Mr. Farraday, as he came to the door of Mr. Vandeford'ssleeping apartment. "A thought suddenly struck me, and I stopped in toexplode it at you and sleep here. "

"Fire away!"

"My mater is coming to town the first of the week to have her glasseschanged, and I'm going to telephone out to her to-morrow and ask her towrite Miss Adair to have dinner with us informally at the town housewhile she is here. You know mater's mother was from old Kentucky, andshe'll adore the child. Think that's good thinking?"

"Fine, " answered Mr. Vandeford, with a glow under his ribs about whichhe said nothing. Men are vastly inarticulate, but they have variousmeans of communication, and Mr. Vandeford now felt that in his care ofhis author Mr. Dennis Farraday would understand. 

"You know I am on new ground, old chap, but--but how about asking MissLindsey, too?" Mr. Farraday questioned, with great diffidence. 

"Fine!" agreed Mr. Vandeford, with accelerated glow under his ribs thatMiss Lindsey had been proposed when Miss Hawtry might have been invited. "Get to bed, can't you, you Indian, you? Night!"

"Good-night!" answered Mr. Farraday, as he departed to his own room. 

And still Mr. Vandeford did not sleep. 

Flat upon his back he lay and faced, analyzed, and card-indexed hissituation and himself. 

"Five years of myself given to that gutter girl and I never even cared;let her annex me for purposes of parade and publicity, and thought itfunny sport. Wasted? Something to be deducted for pleasure in artisticsuccess of "Dear Geraldine, " but what will it cost me if I have to standby and see her make old Denny hate himself as I do myself, or worse?She'll not stop short with him, and how do I know what he'll do? Themoney don't matter, but the--cleanliness does. If I go in to save him, she gave me notice to-night that she would go for that gray-eyed girl. What can she do to her? First, kill her play, no matter what I do tobuild up a success for the kiddie to cancel that mortgage. Second: dosomething, say something that will kill that look in those gray eyeswhen they lift to me. Never! Take Denny, Violet, and the Lord help him;I can't. You've bought me. Washing her hair in the Y. W. C. A. ! Godbless that institution and--"

At last Mr. Godfrey Vandeford slept. 

After his ten o'clock awakening Mr. Vandeford displayed a markedeccentricity in his demeanor. That morning was unlike any morning he hadever experienced, and his conduct surprised himself. A daybreak showerhad fallen on the hot and baked city, and it was as fresh as a suburb. Arrayed in the coolest of white silk, linen, and suede, Mr. Vandefordhad his chauffeur drive him not to the whirling office but to the mostsophisticated Fifth Avenue florist, where he purchased the mostunsophisticated bunch of flowers at the highest price to be obtained inNew York. 

"The Young Women's Christian Association, " he commanded the obsequiousyoung Valentine who drove the big Chambers. Mr. Vandeford was neversufficiently unoccupied of mind to pilot a car in and out of New Yorktraffic. For half a second the young Frenchman hesitated. 

"I don't know where it is--Find out, " commanded Mr. Vandeford, and againhe had the foreign experience of feeling the blood burn the under sideof the tan on his cheeks. 

Valentine consulted the tall man in uniform at the door of the flowershop, and this menial consulted some one within, who must have consulteda directory, judging from the time it took to obtain the correctaddress. With his eyes straight in front of him, as a chauffeur's eyesshould always be, he then drove rapidly down the avenue. 

And on that beautiful morning Mr. Vandeford's luck was with him. Valentine whirled expertly up to the curb in front of the large, hospitable building which had emblazoned over its door the impressive Y. W. C. A. Letters, letters that send a beacon all over the known world asthey did to Mr. Vandeford in little and unimportant New York. Mr. Vandeford got out of the car with hurried grace in his long limbs and, with actual trepidation, went in through the door, into a world he hadnever even thought of before. He had entered many an African lion junglewith less fear. He glanced with awe at the natty young woman in whitelinen who presided at the desk, and wanted intensely to put his flowersbehind him and back out of the door rather than approach and ask for thelady to whom he wished to donate them. In fact, he might haveaccomplished such a retreat if again luck had not come his way. 

"Oh, Mr. Vandeford, how glad I am that you got here before we went outto the museum, " exclaimed a fluty, slurring young voice just behind him, and he found that the gray eyes with the black lashes were just asunusual as he had decided they could not possibly be in the intervalthat had elapsed since he had looked into them. "Oh, how lovely!"

The last exclamation was made over the edge of the bouquet, which he hadtendered Miss Adair as silently as a school-boy hands out his firstbunch of buttercups to the lady for whom he has picked them. 

"Did you come for me to go to help work on the play?" was the energeticquestion that brought him out of his trance. 

"No, not right now, " he answered haltingly, and when he realized howmany times he would have to put her off with words to that same effect, his trance became a panic. 

"When are you going to need me?" Miss Adair asked him with a direct andbusiness-like look right to his eyes. "I am ready for work now. "

"Now what'll I do?" he demanded of himself. 

CHAPTER IV

"I thought of a lot of new things for my characters to say, while I wascoming up from Kentucky on the train, and I want to put them in. " MissAdair further tortured Vandeford. 

"This morning I am going to talk to the electrician and the costumer andthe scene painter. " Mr. Vandeford answered by telling her the truth, because, with her very beautiful and candid eyes beaming into his, showing both interest and consideration, he had not the power to make upany kind of lie to put her off the trail of "The Purple Slipper. "

"I am so glad that I got up early and am ready to go with you! I cantell them about what my great-grandmother really wore when it allhappened, and it will be such a help to them!" Miss Adair exclaimedwith great business acumen shining in her eyes. Mr. Vandeford gave upthe fight, piloted her into his car, and gave the command, "Office!" tothe very decorous, but very much interested Valentine. 

As they were skimming back up the avenue and about to turn intoForty-second Street, an inspiration came to Mr. Vandeford. 

"Didn't you keep some of those costumes of the period of the play hidaway in an old brass-nailed leather trunk in your garret?" he asked MissAdair, with desperate eagerness shining in his eyes. 

"Yes, " Miss Adair answered readily. Then she hesitated, and the genuineblush rivaled the one in the northeast corner of the bouquet at thewaist of the very chic, blue-silk suit. "That is, I did have some--"

"Have they been destroyed?" questioned Mr. Vandeford, with the greatestanxiety. 

"No, not exactly, " answered Miss Adair, with a distressed tremor at thecorner of her curved mouth that rivaled a rose of a deeper hue in thesouthwest corner of the bouquet. 

"I see, " answered Mr. Vandeford, with great relief. "You are not justsure where they are. That's great! You can have a talk with Mr. Corbett, who is to design the costumes, and then hop right back home in a day ortwo, as soon as you are rested and we've had a little bat on Broadway, and find them for him to use in his designs. The management will pay allthe expenses and you can--can--"

Mr. Vandeford cast around in his mind for some other business inconnection with "The Purple Slipper" that would keep the author thereofbusy and contented in Adairville, Kentucky, out of the clutches ofViolet and out of the way of his stage director until it all was runningsmoothly. 

"How about your getting a lot of photographs of the house in which itall happened?" he went on. Vaguely he felt photography must be a slowprocess in Adairville, Kentucky. 

Also, in his heart he was forced to acknowledge that his inspiration forgetting the author out of the way of her own play while it was beingmurdered was not entirely original. Tradition had told him, whethertruly or not, that at a certain crucial moment in the butchering andrehearsal of "The Great Divide" the poet-author, Moody, had been sentWest to hunt a genuine war costume for a great Indian war-chief, hisfavorite written character, and on his return with the trophy had foundthe Indian cut entirely and forever from the play. 

"Those dresses would be the greatest help you could give us now, " heurged with an inward chuckle at the thought of the trick on the greatpoet, which froze in his heart as he observed two tears balanced on theblack lashes of the lovely sea-gray eyes lowered away from his. 

"What's the matter?" he gasped, in desperate fear that the Moody Indianstory had penetrated to the wilds of Adairville, Kentucky. "You'd onlybe gone a few days, and everything could wait until you came back. Iwouldn't turn a wheel without you, and--" he committed himself deeperand deeper at every step. 

"I've had the dresses all made over, and this is one. I've hurt my playjust because I wanted to look pretty in New York! I'm humiliated withmyself. As if anybody cared how I look; and the play--" The soft littleslurs stopped and the beautiful old-blue-silk-clad shoulder trembledslightly against his shoulder as a little ghost of a sob came to thesurface and was suppressed while the home-made color faded from beneathtwo tears that fell from the black lashes. 

"Oh, please forgive me, child! It doesn't matter at all, and--"

"You oughtn't to forgive me, " the voice trembled on. "Miss Hawtry wouldhave been wonderful in that dinner dress my grandmother wore, andI--I've had two made out of it! I can give them to her and tell her howto put them together again with--"

"You'll do nothing of the kind!" fairly snapped Mr. Vandeford. Then hebroke the record in his own thinking processes and decided for thesecond time to tell the whole truth to this country girl with hermixture of hay-seeds and patrician airs. He directed Valentine toCentral Park and made a clean breast of it. It is a pleasure to recordthat at the Moody Indian story Patricia laughed until two other tearsran down her cheeks, but this time they did not wring Mr. Vandeford'sheart, for they coursed over the accustomed roses and were a greatpleasure to him. 

"I'll go home if you want me to, " the talented author of "The PurpleSlipper" offered, with a small snap in her eyes, mingled with theaccustomed veneration of Mr. Vandeford, her producer. "I don't want tobe in anybody's way. I thought I had to come and spend all my money. Iwant to see the Metropolitan and the Aquarium and Brooklyn Bridge andTrinity Church, ... And ... A Midnight Frolic, because Mamie LouWhitson, at home, is expecting me to go to one even if Miss Elvira saidI ought not to. Can I see just one Frolic before I go home?"

"If you go home now the whole 'Purple Slipper' will go into cold storageuntil you come back, " Mr. Vandeford growled at her, and the effort ittook not to hold on to her with bodily fingers was a great strain. "Itold you the usual situation because I felt that you were clever enoughto make the best of it and help the play a lot. No author ever has seena play produced as he wrote it, and he has to stand seeing everybodytake a whack at it, from the producer to the man who takes the ticketsat the front door. I've got a good playwright shut up until Fridayrewriting 'The Purple Slipper'; then I'm going to work at it myself andlet Miss Hawtry write in all the things she wants to say, and cut outall the things she doesn't. After that, I'm going to turn it over toBill Rooney, who was born in a barrel down on the wharf and educated inthe gutter, but who is the best and highest-priced stage director in NewYork. He'll do innumerable things to it while he's 'setting it, ' as hecalls getting it ready for rehearsals. All the actors and actresses willbe allowed at times to butcher and scalp their parts and everybody willstab. And if you are a plucky girl you'll sit still and see it done. There will come lots of times that everything you suggest, even verytimidly, will be thrust down your throat; but if they are vital theywill get under the hide of Bill and opening night you'll see that yourpluck has put a lot into the whole thing and that the mutilated anddressed-up play is still your child. Will you trust me and sit in withme and help me make 'The Purple Slipper' go?"

"I do! I will!" answered Miss Adair, with her head in the air and theAdairville roses flaunting themselves in her face. And as she spoke sheoffered him her slim, long-fingered, white little hand that hiscompletely engulfed as, answering a signal, Valentine turned the carback toward Forty-second Street. "If I've got to have thorns stuck in meand then cut out I'm mighty glad you'll be there. "

"Yes, I'll be there, " he answered her softly, as he released her hand atleast two seconds sooner than he was really obliged to, though hehimself could not have said why he did it. He felt like a grown personwho frightens a child with a bear tale to make it cuddle to his ownstrength in the firelight. 

Then followed a day in the offices of Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, TheatricalProducer, which, up to that time, could not have been duplicated onBroadway and perhaps never will be, though the results may have theeffect of--but that was all in the future of the theatrical business atthat time. 

"Mr. Meyers, " said Mr. Vandeford, as he ushered the author of "ThePurple Slipper" into the outer offices, where he found Pops soothing andcontrolling about seven enraged experts in different lines of dramaticproduction, "Miss Adair will have the small office from now on to workin when she is not in consultation with me. Please take her in and seethat she is made at home while I run through my mail. Yes, Mr. Corbett, I will be ready for you in a few minutes. Sorry to detain you, all ofyou, " with which apology to the body of assembled experts Mr. Vandefordbowed, went into his sanctum, and firmly closed the door, just as Mr. Adolph Meyers bowed the author into her sanctum and as firmly closed herdoor. Mr. Gerald Height, who had been sitting looking indifferently outof Mr. Meyers' window, looked after the disappearing author as if aperfumed breeze had suddenly blown across his brow, and whistled softly. 

"Say, Pops, who, by thunder is--, " he was questioning Mr. Meyers withextreme interest, when Mr. Vandeford's buzzer sounded and Mr. Meyers wasforced to answer it before he could attend to Mr. Height's question. 

Mr. Meyers found Mr. Vandeford pale, but determined. 

"Pops, " he said, and Mr. Meyers could have sworn that the voice of hisbeloved chief trembled, "I'm in the devil of a fix, and you have got tothrow me a line to pull out; in fact, you'll have to cast in a drag-netif you want to land me. "

"If it was a submarine I would make a rescue of you, Mr. Vandeford, sir, " the faithful henchman assured the panic-stricken producer. 

"She's worse than any submarine ever floated, and I'm rammed--in acorner, Pops. To make a story that is going to be long in acting, shortin telling, I've had to put Miss Adair on to what is usually handed outto the authors of plays, and then to stop her wails, offered to let hersit in and watch her play baby hacked up. Her office-hours here and atrehearsals will be from ten mornings to midnight, and what are you goingto do about it?" Mr. Vandeford questioned Mr. Meyers with a kind offorlorn hope in his eyes, for Mr. Meyers had often seen him through thecrooks of his trade. 

"I advise to make it straight to her, Mr. Vandeford, sir, and she willcome out all right or otherwise go home. That young lady has the look ofa horse on which I won seven hundred at the last Gravesend. Besides, wehave not time for play-acting about that 'Purple Slipper. ' It is a coldbird and we must be in a hurry about putting pep into it for a success. "

"Right-o, Pops! I'll ask her in here, and when I buzz send in Corbett. The poor kiddie!" With which lamentation over the fate he was about tomete out to Miss Adair, Mr. Vandeford dismissed Mr. Meyers and openedthe door which led from his sanctum into that which had been so recentlyassigned to the author of "The Purple Slipper. "

That eminent playwright was discovered in the height of fascination, looking down upon the uproar of Broadway. 

"I saw a taxicab run over a man and not kill him, " she exclaimed withboth horror and joy. "I started to call you, but it was all over in asecond. "

"That's all right. I've seen that hundreds of times, even when they werekilled. " He reassured her about neglecting to share the excitement withhim. "Are you ready to take up the matter of costumes with Corbett?"

"Shall I have to tell him--about my making over--"

"No; just listen to me handle him, and I'll tell you when to break in. I'll give you a lead. Please come into my office. " And with coolness ofmanner, but trepidation of heart, he led her into his office and seatedher in a chair beside his at the far side of the desk, --the very chairin which had sat Mr. Dennis Farraday on the day previous, when he hadreceived his initiation into the world of theatricals. Then he buzzedhis signal to Mr. Meyers. 

Immediately Mr. Corbett entered. 

"Morning, Corbett. --Miss Adair, the author of the play I want to talkto you about. --Want to take on a costume play of early Kentucky?" Mr. Vandeford made no pause in which to allow Mr. Corbett to acknowledge hisintroduction to the author, and Mr. Corbett seemed to bear no resentmentfor the omission. His astonishment at meeting an author when thecostuming of a play was being discussed was profound. 

"What date?" he inquired, looking carefully away from Miss Adair. 

"What date, Miss Adair?" asked Mr. Vandeford in exactly the same crisptone in which he was conducting the negotiations with Mr. Corbett. 

"1806, I think. It was just before they began to wear--" Miss Adair wasbeginning to say with a delighted smile that entirely failed to make animpression on Mr. Corbett. 

"Good date for costuming, " the artist interrupted the author to say, with the easy assurance of a person fully informed. "Styles weredistinctive. I dressed 'Lovers' Ends' for E. And K. In 1789, and thecostumes kept the piffling play alive for two months. How many dolls andhow many boots?"

"How many men and how many ladies in the play, Miss Adair?" Mr. Vandeford questioned her with delight at getting a question to fling toher and also translating for her Mr. Corbett's query. 

"Twenty in all, " answered Miss Adair. "There are eleven ladies withthe--"

"Split even, " Mr. Corbett took the words out of her mouth. "Want soleleather or tissue paper, Mr. Vandeford?" Miss Adair caught by psychicsympathy the fact that he was asking if the play was to be costumed asone intended to survive. Consequently her very soul hung on the answerMr. Vandeford must make to Mr. Corbett's question. 

"To play about thirty, I should say, " answered Mr. Vandeford after a twominutes' calculating. 

"Only a month?" gasped Miss Adair, then colored home-made pink in theheight of embarrassment. 

"Weeks. " Mr. Vandeford answered her gasp without looking at her, buttaking the vow gallantly, considering that he felt Mazie Villines to behis sole dependence for a winning manuscript version of "The PurpleSlipper. "

During this question and answer Mr. Corbett was also calculating. 

"About seven thousand if Adelaide makes the Hawtry layout, " he finallyannounced. 

"Five hundred advance for the sketches, and a week's option, " Mr. Vandeford offered calmly. 

"A thousand advance for models of costumes made up, " answered Mr. Corbett, just as calmly and firmly. "Have to hunt in museum formaterials to go by. Takes experts on fabrics. "

"I can give you pieces of silk and things that are cut from the costumesof that period. " Miss Adair had learned, and she cut her remark intothe conference with precision and decision. 

"Genuine?" questioned Mr. Corbett. 

"Worn by the characters about whom the play is written. "

"Then seven hundred and fifty for made-up models, Mr. Vandeford, " Mr. Corbett offered. 

"The pieces will be large enough to make the models, " Miss Adair saidwith a curt firmness that was a combination of that used by both Mr. Vandeford and Mr. Corbett and which both startled and delighted theformer. 

"Six hundred for models, Corbett, " he said with finality and with aninward chuckle. 

"Six-fifty, Mr. Vandeford, " Mr. Corbett answered with equal finality, and for the first time he stole a glance at the author. 

"Goes! When?"

"Two weeks?"

"Goes! Good-morning, Mr. Corbett!"

Mr. Corbett's exit was immediate. 

"I'm glad Miss Elvira made me put all the pieces of my dresses in mytrunk to patch with in case I tore anything. They saved us four hundreddollars, didn't they?" Miss Adair said to Mr. Vandeford with gratifiedbusiness acumen shining in the sea-gray eyes. "I wasn't much in the way, was I?"

"You were a great help, and that was the first time I ever succeeded injewing Corbett, " answered Mr. Vandeford with satisfactory enthusiasm. Something of relief over the guarding of his author showed in his voice, which second note, however, he sounded too soon as the next ten minutesproved to him. "Now we'll discuss the sets for the production withLindenberg and then it'll be time for luncheon, and we'll go--"

"Mr. Vandeford, sir, Mr. Height would like to be in next, " Mr. Meyersinterrupted his chief, just a second too soon, or rather just in time, for if Mr. Vandeford had settled Miss Adair's luncheon plans in thatsecond the fate of "The Purple Slipper" might have been different. 

"Show him in, Pops, and have the rest come back at two-thirty, " Mr. Vandeford commanded. 

Mr. Gerald Height entered. 

For five successive seasons on Broadway, with brief dazzling flightsinto the provincial towns of Chicago, Boston, Washington, andPhiladelphia, Mr. Gerald Height had been the reigning beauty, and hewell deserved it. He was both slender and broad, with the grace of afaun in young manhood, and with the deviltry of a satyr of more advancedage in his yellow-green eyes, which tilted under high black brows thatwere arched penciled bows across his forehead. His lips were full andred, but chiseled like a youth's on a Greek frieze and they were mobileand tender and hard by turns. His red-gold hair clung to his head inburnished waves, and this head was set upon his broad, strong shouldersas a flower is set on its parent plant, and his smile was a conqueringtriumph. He poured it all over Miss Adair as Mr. Vandeford introducedthem, and took the chair opposite the producer and the author, with thelight from the window fully revealing all of his charms. 

"New Hawtry play on, Height, by Miss Adair. " Mr. Vandeford began theconversation with his usual directness, and somehow his voice wascrisper than usual, for he seemed to get a shock from the radiance ofthe stage beauty before him that pushed him, with his white-tinged blackhair, well forward into middle age. 

"Dolph was telling me, and I ran through a synopsis he had on themachine. Powder and furbelows!" As he spoke Mr. Height smiled at MissAdair with appreciation of herself and got in return a smile of the samedegree of appreciation of himself, both smiles not at all lost on thepsychologically aging Mr. Vandeford. 

"That clause in your contract that lets you out of all costume plays isperfectly good, you know, " Mr. Vandeford heard himself saying when hehad intended to bluster that same clause aside if the favorite had triedto stand on it, because he well knew that to see Gerald Height in silkstockings and lace ruffles a quarter of a million women might be countedupon to pay two dollars per capita and so assure at least a fifteen percent. Certainty to the box-office receipts of "The Purple Slipper, "whose fate had mysteriously come in the last few hours to mean so muchto him. "Mr. Meyers has a youngster that we can whip into lead, I think. Now thank me for letting you out, and run along. "

"Oh, " ejaculated Miss Patricia Adair, and the little exclamation ofdismay hit both men at once and made them both sit up straight in theirchairs. Also they both looked for a long minute at Miss Adair, and bothwere aware of the other's scrutiny. Mr. Height broke the tension. 

"I might see how buckskins and powdered wig would go, " he said, with atentative glance across the table, which began with Mr. Vandeford andended with Miss Adair. 

"I think you would be perfectly beautiful, and I hope--" Miss Adairpaused, and Mr. Height was as competent as either Miss Hawtry or MissLindsey had been to judge of the home-made color under the gray eyes. Also he was as much, perhaps more, affected by it, though in thepresence of Mr. Vandeford he was wise enough to dissemble his delight. 

"Want me to try, Mr. Vandeford?" he questioned with greater deferencethan he had ever shown a mere manager in the last five years of histriumphant career. 

"Of course, it would be a fifteen-per cent. Drag if you are willing, "answered Mr. Vandeford with managerial delight and manly rage. 

"Can I have until to-morrow to decide?" asked Mr. Height. "You see, Ihaven't read the play or heard the layout, " he added to the author of"The Purple Slipper, " with deference in his rich voice that had thrilledits millions. 

"Could you make it this afternoon if Mr. Meyers goes into it with you?My other man has a big picture offered him at a good figure, " Mr. Vandeford answered, with both fear and joy at the prospect of pressingthe star into retreat. 

"Dolph has told me all he knows about it, which is nothing. He hasn'ttaken out any parts and seems to have lost the manuscript forever. Ihope you kept a copy, Miss Adair. " And again the two young things smiledat each other to Mr. Vandeford's devastation. 

"Why couldn't I tell Mr. Height about the play while you see theelectrician and the other people, Mr. Vandeford?" Miss Adair questioned, her candid gray eyes shining with such a sincere desire to be useful inthe crisis that Mr. Vandeford could not suspect her of any adventurousmotive. "We could go over in--into my office and you can call me anyminute if you need me. "

"Great!" exclaimed Mr. Height. "Then I could let you know right away ifI thought I could do the part justice, Mr. Vandeford. "

"Goes!" answered Mr. Vandeford, as he motioned them into the inneroffice, which had been conferred upon the author of "The PurpleSlipper, " and rang his buzzer for Mr. Meyers. 

"Find Mr. Farraday and ask him to come around here immediately if he isanywhere near, or to come at four if he can't get here in ten minutes, "he commanded. "Heard from Mazie?"

"Mr. Howard is in a good working soak, is her report, Mr. Vandeford, sir, and I have the wire that Mr. Farraday is on his way here, " was thedouble answer Mr. Meyers returned to Mr. Vandeford. 

"Good! Give me my letters to sign, " Mr. Vandeford answered. 

Mr. Meyers brought in a sheaf of letters, and Mr. Vandeford was in theact of setting pen to paper when the door of the inner office openedafter a gentle knock and Miss Adair entered, followed by Mr. Height. 

Mr. Vandeford looked up quickly and found Miss Adair close beside hischair, looking down upon him with her beautiful reverence and confidencein him entirely unimpaired. 

"Mr. Height wants me to go and have luncheon with him and tell him aboutthe play. He's hungry, and so am I. Can you spare me if I'm workingwhile I'm eating? May I go?"

Mr. Vandeford rose to his feet quickly, and a great Broadway star was incloser danger of descending head-first from a six-story window upon thatthoroughfare than he ever knew. Then "The Purple Slipper" rose anddemanded its chance of success with Gerald Height as "drag" and thetragedy was averted. 

"Run along, children, and don't spill your milk on your bibs, " heanswered them, with a dissembling smile that would have done credit toMr. Height himself when upon the boards with Miss Hawtry. They departedin great spirits, and Mr. Vandeford noticed that Mr. Height had notbeen at all concerned as to how his manager's inner man would be served. 

Thereupon Mr. Vandeford propped his feet upon the desk, got out one ofthe most evil of the cigars he kept in a drawer of his desk for justsuch crises, and went into communion with himself for ten minutes. Uponthat communion broke Mr. Dennis Farraday, who got the full force of it. 

"I came to pick up you and Miss Adair to go out in the park to luncheon. It's cooler there. Where is she?" were the words with which Mr. Vandeford's partner in the production of "The Purple Slipper" greetedhim. 

"She has gone out to luncheon with a damned tango lizard, " was thedisturbed and disturbing answer his courtesy received. 

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Farraday, bristling. 

"She met Gerald Height a half-hour ago, here in this office, and thenwent out to luncheon with him, " was Mr. Vandeford's answer to Mr. Farraday's bristling. 

"Without consulting you?"

"No! I consented all right enough. "

"Why didn't you tell her if you didn't want her to go with him?"

"See here, Denny, I want to ask you if anything in my past life makesyou think that I am a proper old hen to have a downy little chickenthrust right under my wing for safe keeping, whether I hatched her ornot?" Mr. Vandeford demanded, and his rage was so perfectly impersonaland perplexed that Mr. Farraday sat down to go into the matter to hisrescue. 

"What do you mean, Van?" he asked in a calm voice and manner that weremost grateful to Mr. Vandeford. 

"Just this: Here's a girl come up here, from a place where a girl isguarded like a pearl of great price, into the muck and excitement of thegetting together of a Broadway production in which she is directlyinterested. I don't know what to do. If I spend my time hovering overher, her show will go cold and break her. She's poor. I told her as muchof what she is in for as I dared and still she wants to stay and see itall through, demands to stay and be let in for the whole thing. What'llwe do?"

"Suppose she'd go with me up to visit the mater and be motored down toparticipate in--in expurgated moments?" asked Mr. Farraday, as heruffled his hair into a huge plume on the top of his head. 

"She would not. She's got a taste of it and she'll thirst for more. And, for all that unsophistication, she is a clever kid. She'll get Heightinto a costume play before luncheon is over and that'll go a long way tocinch a hit for 'The Purple Slipper. ' He's made a fad of not playingcostume, and all the women in New York will flock to see him in velvetand lace. She bargained that fish Corbett out of four hundred dollars inthe preliminary costume deal, and if anybody has to send her home itwill have to be you. I can't do it. "

"Well, just gently warn her about Height and things of that kind, can'tyou?"

"I cannot! Would you tell a woman who is walking a tight rope that theground sixty feet below her is covered with broken champagne bottles?"

"Then she's got to go home, " decided Mr. Dennis Farraday, positively. 

"How'll you make her?"

"You've got to do it. She's got awe of you planted six feet deep in hersoul. Anybody could see that. You've got to send her. "

"Can't be done, " growled Mr. Vandeford in desperation. "Wish I weremarried to six respectable women and then I could make 'em all chaperonher in turns, while I feed her fool play to the public. "

"You'd only have to strike out the syllable 'un' before 'married' by alittle trip to the City Hall to have one mighty fine wife, " Mr. Farradaysaid with a straight look into Mr. Vandeford's eyes, which was so deeplyaffectionate that it gave him the privilege of opening the door to anyholy of holies. 

"Violet and I are all off, Denny, and it ought never to have been on, "was the straight-out answer he got to his venture, an answer that MissHawtry would have felt smoothed greatly the path of her presentadventures in life. 

"Poor girl! I knew she was hurt somehow, but I thought--forgive me, oldman. " With a tenderness in his voice that both alarmed and puzzled Mr. Vandeford his big Jonathan closed the subject and snapped a lock on it. "Come over to the Astor with me for a cold bite. "

"Goes!"

The cool, green-leafed Orangery at the Hotel Astor is the oasis in thedesert days of rehearsal for all early fall plays, and beside itstinkling fountain and under its tinkling music can be found at luncheonall of the theatrical profession who are not around the corners at theequally cool, white-tiled Childs restaurants. Beside and around thegreen wicker tables careers of managers, artists, actors, playwrights, electricians, and scenic artists are made and unmade in the twinkling ofsome bright or heavy-lidded eye. Each and every feaster watches each andevery other feaster with the quick, wary eye of a jungle being consumingits food before it is snatched from him or her; and gossip reigns overall. 

"Gee, look at the swell dame Gerald Height has got cornered over there!"exclaimed Mazie Villines, as she looked up from a frappéd melon, which a"heavy" moving picture man was "buying" for her consumption. "The waythem society queens do fall fer him!"

"Put your blinkers on, Mazie, put 'em on, and don't take a shy at Heightover my knife and fork! Let him eat what he pays for and me the same, "growled the huge man. "I let you put up that drunk Howard for a week, and that's rope enough. "

"I'd like to feed him the green in his 'runny' eggs; it makes me sick toopen for him, " was the adored Mazie's way of speaking of her eminentplaywright. 

"Well, get his wad first, " was the heavy's advice. 

Just at this moment Mazie had the delight of seeing Mr. GodfreyVandeford enter with his "soup and fish" friend Mr. Dennis Farraday. Asthey both had to pass directly by the table at which sat Miss Adair andMr. Height, of course they both paused for greetings, which included theintroduction of Mr. Height to Mr. Farraday. 

"I could hardly eat in this beautiful cool place when I thought thatmaybe you would work on in the hot office with nothing with ice packedaround it for your luncheon, " said Miss Adair, as she raised her eyes toMr. Vandeford's with the adoration still intact after at leastthree-quarters of an hour assault upon it by Mr. Gerald Height'sdisturbing personality. "I wanted to go back for you, but Mr. Heightsaid that Mr. Meyers fed you cold pie when you were busy, and that youroared dreadfully if anybody interrupted you when you were eating it!"

"He does, " Mr. Farraday interjected, smiling down at her in a way thatit was unwise to do in the Orangery at noon; and it lighted a fuse helittle suspected. Miss Violet Hawtry caught the smile in mid-air andthen promptly turned her back and became all charming attention to thegentleman with whom she was having luncheon, who was no other than thecelebrated Weiner, who had built three theatres in two years and wasbuilding more. He was of the bull-necked type of Hebrew and not of thesensitive, exquisite type of the sons of the House of David to whichbelong the E. & K. 's, and the S. & S. , as well as the great B. D. 

"When will the new theatre be completed, Mr. Weiner?" Miss Hawtry asked, as she turned over an iced shrimp and tore at a lettuce leaf with herfork. 

"October first, " answered Mr. Weiner, past a mouthful of Russianherring. 

"What will the opening show be?" asked Miss Hawtry, with indifference, though there was a glint under her thick lashes lowered over hersnapping Irish eyes. 

"'The Rosie Posie Girl, '" answered Weiner, and he swallowed his herringand gave her a shrewd glance at the same time. 

"Vandeford will never sell it to you, " Miss Hawtry announced calmly, asshe ate the shrimp and the torn lettuce leaf. 

"Maybe!" answered Weiner with equal calmness. "What are his plans forhis new show that he is tearing up Forty-second Street about?"

"Road from September fifteenth until New York October first. "

"What theater in New York?"

"I don't know. " As she made this answer Miss Hawtry looked up and caughta snap in Weiner's small black eyes, perched on each side of the hump ofhis red nose. 

"Has the show got goods?" he asked. 

"I'm going to put some into it, " answered Miss Hawtry calmly. 

"Why?"

"I like Mr. Dennis Farraday, who's Vandeford's angel. I don't want tosee Van take the money out of his pocket and get away with it. " MissHawtry was dealing in half-truths to a lie expert. 

"Hooked Farraday yet?"

"Not quite. "

"No use bargaining with a woman when she's fishing for a man, but if heslips the hook come to me and I'll show you a new bait. When do youopen?"

"Twenty-third of September, at Atlantic City. "

"I'll be there. "

"I hope you will, and--" but the rest of Miss Hawtry's remark was cutoff by Mr. Dennis Farraday's genial greeting, backed by Mr. Vandeford'smore restrained pleasure at happening upon her and her co-plotter, towhom she introduced Mr. Farraday. 

The exchange of amenities was as brief as it was cordial, but as Mr. David Vandeford and Mr. Jonathan Farraday passed on to a table whichthe discreet head waiter had reserved in case of the unexpected andtardy arrival of just such personages as Mr. Godfrey Vandeford and hisfriend, Mr. Farraday, Miss Hawtry had answered a low-voiced questionfrom Mr. Farraday with a sadly tender smile and the words:

"At eight?"

"The Claridge got me a box for the Big Show and a table at the GroveGarden for to-night, Van, " remarked Mr. Farraday, as he unfolded hisnapkin. "It is the coolest place in town, and we might as well let thekid get just one good peep before she goes back into the shell ... Ifshe goes. I'll take Miss Hawtry on and leave the box number for you andMiss Adair. "

"Right-o, " answered Mr. Vandeford, with a growl. For the life of him hecould not understand just why Mr. Gerald Height should have theprivilege of feeding his author alone, while he seemed to be alwaysforced to enjoy her company in the presence of others. He looked acrossthe room, met the gray eyes laughing at him over a glass that wasplainly iced tea, and was forced to exchange smiles with his downylittle chicken, who was delightedly peeping out of her shell. 

"I think Mr. Vandeford is the most wonderful man I ever met, " confidedMiss Adair to Mr. Height, with no suspicion of the incitation such aremark would be to the ardor of the beloved of many women. 

"He's a great producer; had three big hits hand-running and fell down on'Miss Cut-up' because he wouldn't stand up to Hawtry, and let her copthe whole show, " answered Mr. Height with great generosity, for inreality Mr. Height had the very poor opinion of Mr. Vandeford that it isthe custom of all actors to hold in regard to their respective managers. However, he was sugar-coating the pill he was determined to administerto Miss Adair without delay. "He ought to marry Hawtry and get a bit inher mouth and the spurs on. "

"Is--is he in love with Miss Hawtry?" asked the author of "The PurpleSlipper" with great interest, and the home-made color rose severaldegrees, that were not warranted by the calm gossip of the situation. 

"That's the noise he makes, but who can tell?" answered Mr. Height, reveling in the Adairville roses and no more aware of their origin thanwas their owner. "He meets bills, but nobody gets in behind hiswindow-boxes. " And Mr. Height raised his glass of Tom Collins, perfectlycontented with the thought that he had enlightened Miss Adair about theprivate life of Mr. Vandeford. As a matter of fact he had failed utterlyto do so, as she had not understood a word of his Broadway patois. "There's the great B. D. And beloved son-in-law, " and Mr. Height noddedand smiled at a white-haired man and his companion who were seatingthemselves at the table next to them. 

"B. D. ?" questioned Miss Adair. 

"Benjamin David, " answered Mr. Height. "He and his son-in-law areputting on a great new show. Offered me a lead and--but I think I'llstick by 'The Purple Slipper. '" His eyes were so ardent as slightly todisturb Miss Adair and very greatly disturb Mr. Vandeford, who caughtthe warmth across several tables, and ground his teeth. 

However, Miss Patricia Adair was fully capable of handling such asituation, for ardor is ardor, whether encountered on Broadway in NewYork or Adairville in Kentucky, and Miss Adair had met it manytimes--and parried it. 

"I've really got to leave this perfectly lovely place and hurry down tothe Y. W. C. A. , to get some costume samples for Mr. Corbett, " she saidcalmly, as she began to draw on her gloves and pull down the veil thatreefed in the narrow brim of the jaunty hat Miss Lindsey and she had bya great stroke of luck discovered on a side street the day before. 

"Y. W. C. A. ?" questioned Mr. Height, in stupefaction. 

"Everybody looks that way when I say it!" laughed Miss Adair, with adimple flaunting above the left corner of her mouth. "Will you take methere or put me on something or in something that will let me off verynear?"

"I'll take you, " answered Mr. Height tenderly and heroically, as he heldthe blue-silk coat for her to slip into. 

As the two of them stood together the great Dean of American Producerslooked upon them with interest, and rose and offered his hand to Mr. Height. 

"Well, how about it?" he asked, with a smile under his beetling whitebrows. 

"Mr. David, please meet Miss Adair, the author of Mr. Vandeford's newHawtry play, " Mr. Height said by way of beginning an answer to thequestion put to him. "At last I'm going into wig and ruffles; the playis of colonial Kentucky. "

"I am delighted to meet you, Miss Adair, " said the Broadway Maximus, "and you are fortunate to have Mr. Height for your play. I covet him, but I'll wait until next time. "

"Oh, thank you for not taking him away!" said Miss Adair, with adisplaying of the roses which the great B. D. Noted with pleasure. "Willyou come and see our play and tell us what you think about it?" MissAdair made her request, which was against the traditions of conventionson Broadway, with the unabashed air with which she had invited thereigning Governor of Kentucky to have dinner with her and Major Adair atthe state fair the year before. 

"Ask Mr. Vandeford to invite me to a dress rehearsal, " answered thegreat one, and Gerald Height beamed with pride, while Miss Adairdisplayed only gratitude and delight as they took their departure. 

In their exit they passed Mr. Vandeford's table and stopped to speak tohim and Mr. Farraday. 

"That's Benjamin David Mr. Height introduced to me, and he's coming tohelp us at the dress rehearsals of 'The Purple Slipper. ' It'swonderful!" Miss Adair exclaimed, as Mr. Vandeford rose and stoodbeside her. "Mr. Height is going down to the Y. W. C. A. With me, andwe'll be right back to the office with those pieces of silk for thecostumes. Mr. David wants him for lead, but he's going to be in 'ThePurple Slipper' and go to Mr. David next. Isn't that fine?" and withoutwaiting for an answer to her question the busy playwright departed onimportant business connected with the costuming of her play. 

"Somehow, Van, I don't see why we should worry, " Mr. Farraday said, ashe looked at the retreating figures of the pair whose beauty wasattracting no little attention in the feasting Orangery. "She's gettingalong all right, eh?"

"Remember you've been in the business about forty-eight hours, Denny, and never forget that every knife here is sheathed in a smile andeverybody carries a rubber stamp with double X on it, " answered Mr. Vandeford, with gloom, as he pushed back his coffee-cup. "She's tastedblood now and that ends it. She's with us, and the Lord help her! Ican't!"

"Well, come on and let's get to the office, " answered Mr. Farraday, witha cheerful lack of sympathy with his friend's anxiety for the talentedbudding playwright. 

"Everything all O. K. , Mazie?" asked Mr. Vandeford, as he passed thetable where the Miss Villines and the heavy movie man were finishingtheir bottles of cold beer. 

"Soused and scribbling, " answered Mazie, cheerfully. 

"Remember, Friday. "

"Remember your check-book. "

"Goes!"

Shortly after Mr. Vandeford and Mr. Farraday reached the office of Mr. Vandeford, Miss Adair, accompanied by Mr. Height, appeared with a neatlittle parcel in their possession. Also Miss Adair had another, veryconventional, corsage bouquet in the place of the one Mr. Vandeford hadgiven her in the morning and which at luncheon had begun to look theworse for wear. 

"Now what shall I do?" she asked Mr. Vandeford, with great energy. 

"Go right down and get in my car and go back to the Y. W. C. A. , to takea long nap. I'll call for you for that Broadway eye-opener at eighto'clock to-night, so get 'em well rested, " he answered, and he smiledwhen he noted that the expression in her eyes that he had begun to lookfor with desperate eagerness still held. Mr. Meyers had engaged Mr. Height with a contract, and Mr. Farraday had been an interestedspectator to the tussle. Producer and author were alone. 

"Mr. Height asked me to go to see Maude Adams, but I told him I couldn'tgo anywhere at night until you could take me, " said Miss Adair withsparks of joy in the sea-gray eyes. "I'm so glad it is to-night. "

"Did you really tell Height that?" demanded Mr. Vandeford, with youthswelling through his arteries. 

"Yes. "

"Go, child, go and get a nap, " Mr. Vandeford laughed, as he opened thedoor for her and started out to descend and deliver her into the keepingof faithful Valentine. 

"I'll put her into the car, Van, " offered Mr. Farraday. "They need youhere in this fight. "

And again his author was snatched out of Mr. Vandeford's clutches. 

Several hours later a very interesting scene was enacted in two tinyadjoining rooms under the roof of the Y. W. C. A. , with Miss Adair andMiss Lindsey as the principals. 

"If you take away all that net there won't be any waist left to thedress. Don't!" pleaded Miss Adair, as Miss Lindsey stood over her withdetermined scissors. 

"I'm making it absolutely perfect, and you can't tell by looking down onit. You'll have to trust me, " answered Miss Lindsey, with pins in hermouth, as she snipped away a funny little tucker of common new net withwhich Miss Elvira Henderson of Adairville, Kentucky, had for the sakeof her spinster convictions ruined a triumph she had accomplisheddirectly out of "Feminine Fashions" and the ancestral trunk. 

"Will it be--be modest?" demanded Miss Adair. 

"A lot more modest than having that ugly mosquito netting tellingeverybody that you are not willing to have them see your marvelous neckand arms except through its meshes. Nobody will think you know you'vegot 'em, if you show them like everybody else; but they'll think youthink you are a peep-show if you cover them half up. " And as she spokeMiss Lindsey gave another daring rip and snip. Her philosophy struckhome. 

"That's every word true, " agreed Miss Adair, with relief. "I'll justforget about my skin there, as I do about that on my face and hands andnobody will notice me at all. "

"That's it. Skin is no treat to New York, and nobody will look at youtwice. " Miss Lindsey had a struggle to keep her voice and mannerunconcerned enough, as she surveyed her finished product and saw thatfrom under her hands would go forth a sensation. In the old ivory satinwith its woven rosebuds and cream rose-point, above which rose pearlyshoulders and a neck bearing a small, proud head, with close waves ofheavy black hair, Miss Adair was like a dainty, luscious, tropical fruitthat is more beautiful than its own flower. "How an old maid in acountry town made that dress I don't see!" Miss Lindsey addedreflectively. 

"It was you, who unmade it, " answered Miss Adair with gratitude. "I wishyou were going, too, " she added as she nestled to the taller girl for aperfumed second. 

"I'm going to luncheon with you and Mr. Farraday to-morrow, " answeredMiss Lindsey, with a pleased laugh at Miss Adair's sudden clinging thatindicated her sincerity in not wishing to leave her alone. 

"Oh, lovely! And Mr. Height will be with us too, for I promised to haveluncheon with him again, " she exclaimed, as Miss Lindsey began to inserther into an evening wrap made of a priceless old Paisley shawl which"Fashions" had also tempted Miss Elvira to desecrate with her scissors. 

"Gerald Height?" asked Miss Lindsey, and her eyes first snapped and thensmouldered. "Where did he get in on--where did you meet him? Does Mr. Vandeford know about it and--"

"I met him in Mr. Vandeford's office. He's in 'The Purple Slipper, ' andI went to luncheon with him to-day. I meant to tell you about it, andmeeting Mr. David, but Mr. Vandeford told me to get a nap and I thoughtI--"

Here the speaking-trumpet in the hall informed Miss Lindsey that Mr. Vandeford was waiting for Miss Adair below, and she had to let hertreasure depart from her. 

"I wonder just how straight Godfrey Vandeford is, " she mused, as shepicked up the discarded tucker of coarse netting. "The poor kid! I wishshe was at home hidden behind Miss Elvira's skirts. Hawtry and a girllike that! Damn men!"

CHAPTER V

It may be that in the long life of Mr. Godfrey Vandeford he had passed amore perturbed evening than that on which he led his protégé, the authorof "The Purple Slipper, " to her début under the white lights ofBroadway, but he could not recall the occasion. His grilling had begunwhile he waited for his charge to descend in the lobby of the Y. W. C. A. And it ended--

"We are delighted to have Miss Adair stay with us while her play isbeing rehearsed, " a very pleasant young woman, with a trim figure, kindand wise eyes, and gray-sprinkled hair, remarked to him after she hadwhistled the fact of his arrival above. "When such men as you, Mr. Vandeford, begin to put on clean historical plays, many of our anxietieswill be over. I look on each musical show that appears on Broadway as apersonal enemy. "

"I am glad indeed, Madam, that we are going to claim you as a friend of'The Purple Slipper, '" Mr. Vandeford answered, with his most pleasantsmile. Somehow the sight and sound of that executive young woman incharge of his young author gave him a calmness that he needed, and hisconfidence shone in his face. 

"We are deeply interested in Miss Adair, for we have had influentialletters sent us about her, and of course we are looking forward witheagerness to seeing her play. She is such a dear child!"

The influential letters and the increased warmth in the young woman'stone in speaking about his author drew Mr. Vandeford still nearer toher, both in body and in spirit. He leaned slightly against the desk andsmiled again. 

"May I send you seats for some night the first week of 'The PurpleSlipper'?" he asked, with the greatest deference. And it must berecorded that in making the offer Mr. Vandeford was not bidding for thedistinction conferred on him in the next few seconds. 

"That will be delightful, " exclaimed the young woman. "And, Mr. Vandeford, here is a latch-key to the front door, to use to-night if youand Miss Adair are a little later than midnight in coming home. Rememberto give it to her after you have put her inside the door and tell her tohang it on the rack opposite the number of her room. There she comesnow!"

Mr. Vandeford accepted the latch-key of the Y. W. C. A. With awe andlooked at it as he would have looked at a decoration handed him by theMetropolitan governors. Then he glanced up and beheld Miss Adairdisplaying herself to his new-found friend. 

"You are very pretty, my dear, " she was saying with an affectionatesmile. "Just let me put a pin here in this fold of lace, " and expertlyshe reefed up the last fold of rose-point that Miss Lindsey had snippeddown in a hurried finish of her remodeling. Strange to say Mr. Vandeford felt still more further drawn to his young ChristianAssociation friend. 

"Now run along, both of you, and have a pleasant evening, " she said tothem as she turned to answer the telephone. 

"That girl is an extremely delightful person, " Mr. Vandeford remarked, while he and Valentine were tucking Miss Adair under the linen robe inthe car. 

"I'm so glad you are getting used to the Y. W. C. A. , " Miss Adairanswered, giving him a delighted smile as he seated himself beside herwhile Valentine started the car up the avenue. "Mr. Height said it waslike being forced to go to church in a strange town and getting intosomebody's cozy corner by mistake. "

"I wish I were married to that girl, to-night, " Mr. Vandeford exclaimedout of the sudden rush of anxiety that had overtaken him by thisfledgling author's mention of his leading man. 

"Then who would be taking me out, out on Broadway?" asked Miss Adairwith a little laugh that had a more distinctly friendly note in it thanit had before held for him. 

"Both of us, " replied Mr. Vandeford, with an answering laugh thatsounded much too young in his own ears. "You'll need two. "

"Am I going to have as many dreadful things happen to me to-night as Iwas going to have when I met Mr. Corbett and Mr. Benjamin David and Mr. Height and the other theatrical people? Am I being warned again?" Mr. Vandeford accepted the teasing and laughed at himself. 

"My wings are up. Go out and scratch for yourself. "

"Not very far, though, " Miss Adair answered. Mr. Vandeford was not surethat she moved a fraction of an inch nearer to him, but he hoped so. "Ifeel just the same about you as I do about Roger and I like to be goingwith you--into--into danger. "

"Who's Roger?" questioned Mr. Vandeford. 

"He's my brother, who treats me as you do. It's fun for a woman to befrightened dreadfully when she is with a man she likes. " Again there wasthat uncertainty as to whether Miss Adair fluttered a fraction of aninch in his direction, and for the life of him Mr. Vandeford could notsay whence had flown all the many ways he would have commandedordinarily for the finding out if such were the case. 

"A frightened woman is often rather--rather deadly to a man, " heanswered before he could stop himself. The habit of speaking outdirectly to Miss Adair was growing on him, he perceived, and it alarmedhim. 

"Into what danger are you taking me now?" asked Miss Adair with a fluty, merry laugh. 

"We are going with Mr. Farraday and Miss Hawtry to see the Big Show andto the Grove Garden on the roof afterward for supper. Just a slow, usualsort of an evening, but Denny thought it would be fun for you to seethe Big Show and the Big Feed and the Big Dance by way of initiation, "Mr. Vandeford answered, with an entire lack of enthusiasm. 

"I wanted to see what you wanted me to see this first night, " Miss Adairsaid with the affectionate frankness of six years going on seven. "Whatwould that be?"

"We'll see it to-morrow night, " Mr. Vandeford answered her, and thistime the tenderness in his voice surprised him and he considered itentirely unjustifiable. 

"Mr. Height was going to take me to see Maude Adams, but I know he'llput it off again when I tell him that you want me to--"

"No, don't! Let Height get Maude Adams out of his system, for Heaven'ssake, " snapped Mr. Vandeford, this time in unjustifiable temper. 

"Why, what is--" Miss Adair was asking of Mr. Vandeford in positivealarm when Valentine stopped before the blazing doorway of the Big Show. A functionary seven feet tall opened the door of the car and all butliterally extracted them by force, for he was anxious to repeat theoperation on the occupants of the car chugging behind them. 

Now, there are many, many fair women born within the state lines of OldKentucky who live calm and peaceful lives and die and are buried with nogreater contrast of experience than comes from birth and death, love andhate, riches and poverty, and they never know the difference; butoccasionally one bursts out of her bonds and flames her beauty overstrange worlds, in foreign embassies, in the courts of St. James orPetrograd, or in an opera or theater box in New York. When this eruptionoccurs many sparks fly. And many sparks from bright eyes were showeredon the author of "The Purple Slipper, " who sat calmly unaware in theleft stage-box of the Big Show that August night beside the notoriousHawtry, Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, and Mr. Dennis Farraday. And of thesparks no one was more conscious than both Miss Hawtry and Mr. Vandeford, while big Dennis was in a blissfully ignorant state of mindlike to that of Miss Patricia Adair of Adairville, Kentucky. Though hehad been for about forty-eight hours a producer on the rear side of thefootlights, Mr. Farraday still had the attitude of mind possessed by oneof an audience, and he watched the stage rather than the "front. " Hethus failed to get the impression created by his guest from Kentucky, and blissfully left Mr. Vandeford to deal with her sensations derivedfrom the show. Mr. Vandeford had his hands full. 

To Miss Adair the Big Show was a series of mental and moral and artisticexplosions. She sat with delight through the Japanese acrobats and Swissquartette of yodelers, and she welcomed pretty, pert little MazieVillines with enthusiasm that gradually faded into horror as that artistflaunted more and more lingerie and "dished the dirt" which theinebriate playwright, at that moment engaged in "putting pep" into MissAdair's own beloved "Purple Slipper, " _née_ "The Renunciation ofRosalind, " had supplied. The "dirt" was received by the audience atlarge with a hilarious joy that entirely justified the managers of theBig Show for keeping Mazie busy "dishing. "

However, all things come to an end, and with a last provocative, revealing kick Mazie was allowed to depart and give way to a pair ofyoung dancers who promised to display wares more wholesome. 

Without knowing why he did it, Mr. Vandeford leaned forward so that hisleft ear was within reach of the whisper of Miss Adair's lips as sheturned her head and tilted it like a droopy flower toward his. 

"I've only seen Sarah Bernhardt and John Drew and Maude Adams andMansfield and Joe Jefferson and Arliss and the Coburns, up inLouisville, " she faltered with her eyes questioning his and wide openwith horror. 

"These next ones aren't so bad, and we'll go before any more come onthat--that you won't like, " he whispered in return. He had glancedthrough the program and seen that the climax would be an exhibition ofjungle courtship by one of America's most notorious women and herpartner, done to extreme negroid melody. 

"Thank you, " she murmured as she turned to watch the willowy youth andmaid go through some very beautiful movements of the dance that wasentirely unobjectionable. In two minutes she had turned her face, beaming with pleasure, so that Mr. Vandeford could see that all was wellwith her; and ten minutes later she giggled out loud at the repartee oftwo black-faced artists. 

During the respite that his knowledge of the numbers on the program gavehim, Mr. Vandeford did more of his peculiar brand of thinking, andreached a diplomatic conclusion. By the intermission, which came justbefore the jungle "big number" to give late comers time to gather in fortheir salacious feast, he was ready to act. 

"Miss Adair and I are going to get a breath of air, " he announced. 

"But the big number is next, and she might miss it, " objected MissHawtry, with solicitude for Miss Adair's pleasure. Mr. Vandeford hadthought past just that objection delivered by Miss Hawtry, and he knewthat in no way must he seem to be shielding the author of "The PurpleSlipper" from the salaciousness that gave Miss Hawtry great joy. If hewent too far in any act of comparative analysis he would bring dangerupon "The Purple Slipper, " with whose fate Miss Adair's was one. 

"We'll be back in plenty of time, " he lied. 

"Be sure!" Miss Hawtry commanded, and then turned to devote herself toMr. Farraday, who was laying himself out to salve what he thought mustbe her pain at the loss of his beloved friend. The Violet had sooncaught his attitude toward her, and was encouraging his chivalry inevery way possible by the most pensive of poses as the generousdeserted. Such a situation is all to a woman's advantage if she knowshow to work it, and Miss Hawtry possessed that knowledge. 

"Van ought to have a medical degree for operating young girls' eyesopen, and making them see rose-colored for a while, " she said with agood-humored smile and a soft little sigh, as she raised her Irish eyesin all their softness to Mr. Farraday's. 

To this insinuation, founded on an implied lie as far as the Hawtry wasconcerned, Mr. Farraday made no reply, but turned to greet with fittingapplause the great dancer, on whose account one of the American artisticbright lights had been extinguished forever, and in ten seconds wasinwardly thanking Vandeford for extracting Miss Adair before she hadfelt the blighting smirch of the big number. While Mr. Farraday watchedthe exhibition before him, Mr. Vandeford was amusing the child of theirjoint solicitude by letting her look at the white lights. While waitingat the curb before the Big Show for the large dignitary in uniform tosummon Valentine, he had directed that worthy to have a message sent into Miss Hawtry that they would join her at supper. Then upon the arrivalof his car, he had carefully inserted Miss Adair before he had said tothe puzzled Valentine:

"Drive slowly down around the circle and down Broadway, so that you cancome back just while the theater crowd is on. "

Some instinct had led Mr. Vandeford to choose exactly the panacea tosoothe Miss Adair's shock--the lights of Broadway. 

"It's like fairy-land, " she gasped, as they rolled down pastForty-seventh Street. "Oh, look at the kitten chasing the spool, all inelectric lights!"

"Wait a minute, and I'll show you an eagle flop his wings, " promised Mr. Vandeford, and he was surprised that he seemed for the first time tofeel the actual glory of the electric signs on his great Broadway, whichis as much of an all-American institution as the shipyards in Brooklyn. 

"All the world is on fire, and everybody is going to it, " Miss Adairexclaimed, as Valentine made his return just as the theaters werepouring their crowds out into the seething maelstrom of the greatscintillating cañon. She watched as the big car stood motionless beforea stream of humanity that poured across its front wheels and thenbounded forward as blue-coated arms stemmed the tide on the edges ofboth sidewalks for a few brief minutes in which they were allowed toprogress to a street beyond, where they were again halted, wedged inwith other impatient, purring cars. 

In a limousine next her Miss Adair saw a boy in a top hat, with whitegloves upon his hands, smother in an eager and unabashed embrace awhite-shouldered girl, whose arms went around his neck regardless of"mother" assiduously looking the other way. In a car on the other side arichly garbed gentleman dozed upon his cushions in triumphant inebriety. Also, while she and Vandeford waited, she saw a guardian spinster shooa bevy of school-girls across in front of the cars, and turn in themiddle of the street to reprove a college boy for a laughing word tossedto the combined bevy, while the blue arms on both sidewalks waved herinto haste so that they might unleash their restrained monster motors. Everywhere protective men had women's arms fastened within their own andwere shoving through the throng, while other men and women jostled alongby themselves, or in companies of twos and threes, with laughing goodnature. Fakirs were crying many wares, and in and out squirmed newsboyscalling war extras in words that seemed to imply that New York was beingshelled from the sea, but did not make that exact statement. 

"It's all the world, and I'm a part of it, " Miss Adair again said, andMr. Vandeford was again surprised at himself that he was not surprisedto find tears glinting in the sea-gray eyes raised to his. 

"_This_ is the Big Show, " he said with a little answering thrill in hisown voice, as the enormity of the scene he had witnessed night afternight broke on him for the first time. 

"They all live here and sleep here and eat here and work hereand--and--love here, " she said softly, and smiled, for again thelimousine with the embracing lovers had paused by the side ofValentine's car, and the embrace still held. 

"No, the sleepers and eaters and workers of New York were in bed longago. Everybody you see here in this push has his or her vital wiresconnected up at Squeedunck, Illinois, or Zanesville, Indiana or--"

"Or in Adairville, Kentucky, " Miss Adair added with a laugh. 

"No, you belong--anywhere. Creative people ought to have no--no homewires, " Mr. Vandeford answered, and there was a queer sadness in hisvoice that he did not himself understand. "People with messages musthave masses to hand them to. That's why you came, and, I suppose, muststay. "

"Yes, " answered Miss Adair, "I want to stay--if you'll let me. "

"I can't do otherwise, " Mr. Vandeford answered her. Then he turned andlooked her full in her serious eyes. "But if you stay you will have toaccept broad standards, or suffer. "

"That Mazie woman?"

"Maybe worse. "

She sat silent until, a few moments later, Valentine drew up again atthe curb before the Big Show, which had been out long enough to dispersemost of its crowd, and was now receiving supper guests for the GardenGrove above. 

"I'm going to stay--with you--and 'The Purple Slipper, '" she announced, as he reached into the car for her and swung her to the pavement. 

"Goes!" he answered, with mingled emotions, which he could not haveanalyzed. 

Miss Adair was as good as her word. She accepted the reveling crowd ofthe garden, looked upon the abandon of drinking women and men, withonly a slightly hunted expression in her eyes, and with her slim whitehands applauded Simone when that artist made most audacious slings ofher supple body in its scant clothing. She beamed upon the dancer when, as Mrs. Trevor, she came, at Mr. Farraday's invitation, to have a glassof champagne with them, and she quailed only once, when a band ofextremely young girls, clothed in filmy garments, took tinysearch-lights and went merrily hunting among the tables of laughing menand women after the lights had been put out for the sport. Her horror atobserving Mr. Vandeford, who sat between her and the narrow aisle takevarious moneys from his pocket to defend himself from successivehunters, made her pale, and the moment the lights were flashed on againshe rose to go. 

"Wonder what they'll do next, " muttered Mr. Farraday, as he helped herinto her wrap. Mr. Vandeford was not looking at his author or speaking. Once when he had put his hand in his pocket to get out a coin for oneof the teasing girls with her search-light he had felt the Y. W. C. A. Latch-key there, and it had short-circuited him entirely. 

"I know you are tired. It takes some time to get the New York pace, butyou'll strike it. I think I'll stay to see the next Folly with Mr. Farraday, " he heard the Violet saying to Miss Adair, and stillshort-circuited, he went with his calm young author down to the car. Thehour was one-thirty, and a moon had climbed the heights of the Broadwaycañon. Valentine, with some sort of psychic direction, went acrossCentral Park and down wide, clean, silent, and dimly lighted FifthAvenue. Both Mr. Vandeford and Miss Adair were silent, and he was notaware that she was crying until just before they turned into her sidestreet. 

"They were so young, those girls, and they--they didn't want to--to dothat, " she said with little catches in her beautiful, slurring, Blue-grass voice. 

"Maybe they didn't; but they wouldn't go back now, not one, " he answeredher. 

She was silenced, and stood quiet beside him as he opened the door ofthe big, gloomy, protective building, with the key the woman of anotherworld than his had intrusted to him. 

"I know, " she said at last, as she held out her hand to him. And becauseit trembled ever so slightly and was cold, he put his warm lips to itfor a second before he handed her into a great international safety. Heremembered the key, but he didn't give it to her. Somehow he wanted ithimself. He liked the feel of it in his pocket. 

"Wish I had Denny locked up in the Christian association!" he growled tohimself as Valentine whirled him home. 

Just at that exact moment Mr. Dennis Farraday sat in Miss VioletHawtry's Louis Quinze parlor at the Claridge, engaged in tenderly andawkwardly patting that star's sobbing white shoulder, as she lay onjust such a couch as Manon Lescaut probably had had for just suchscenes. 

"I don't blame him at all, " sobbed Miss Hawtry, provocatively, with theart of long practice both on the stage and off. "My kind always loses tohers when the time comes. "

"Don't!" pleaded Mr. Farraday. It was all he could or was willing toplead at that moment. 

"But I want to make good in this play for him and her--and you--before Igo out of his life forever. I want to repay him with--with both moneyand happiness. He made me an artist. " With these words Miss Hawtry madean acknowledgment of the truth that she herself really believed to beuntrue, because she saw that to praise Mr. Vandeford was the best way toblind Mr. Farraday while she approached him in that blindness. She knewthat his loyalty to his David would be a barrier unless she used it as aladder. 

"My God! How--how great women are!" was the immediate and hoped-forresponse she drew from the big Jonathan. 

"My art must fill my life now. Only there will be--friendship. You makeme see that by the comfort of your kindness. " Miss Hawtry laid herflushed cheek in the hollow of good Dennis's big warm hand. The momentwas tense, but Hawtry had timed her line a little too far ahead, and itfailed to get across. The prey was as embarrassed as a girl and, withanother brotherly pat, arose to go. 

"You'll always let me do anything I can, won't you?" he asked as helooked down upon her for a second, then took a considerate departure. 

"Boob!" muttered Hawtry to herself, as she rose and rang for Susette. 

There are in this little old world many men like Dennis Farraday; onlynone of its inhabitants admit their existence. 

After the evening of the introduction of its author to Broadway, thingsspun fast and furiously in the business of producing "The PurpleSlipper, " and during the whirlwind of the day Miss Adair sat either inher own private office or in the chair beside Mr. Vandeford, and reveledin the excitement, and in the evenings did other revelings. She had herevening with Mr. Height under the spell of Barrie and Maude Adams, andMr. Vandeford swore under his breath when she reported to him that theyhad gone to the concert on the roof of the Waldorf for an hour, and hadgot back to her abiding-place in time not to need the latch-key, whichstill reposed in his pocket. He knew Gerald Height, and he was puzzledand alarmed at this wary approach. 

Mrs. Farraday came to town, and the dinner-party in her staid, oldWashington Square home, with himself and Miss Lindsey and Miss Adair asguests, was like a day's vacation for Mr. Vandeford. Also, he got acomplete off-guard picture of Miss Adair as he would see her inAdairville, Kentucky, for she and the beautiful and stately Mrs. Farraday spoke the same language and had the same forms. 

"My dear child, you positively must come up to Westchester for thisweek-end! Matilda Van Tyne is going to come for the first blooming ofthe rhododendrons in the West Marsh, and I feel sure that she must haveknown your mother in some of her visits to Lexington. She must see youand hear all about the play. Now, Dennis, make all the arrangements. "Mrs. Farraday gave her commands as a queen is accustomed to deliverthem. 

"May I go?" Miss Adair asked of Mr. Vandeford, her shining gray eyesraised to his with deference and confidence as usual. 

"You may, " answered Mr. Vandeford, aware that Mrs. Farraday's keen eyesof the world were fixed upon him in a speculative way. "The rehearsalswill begin at eleven on Monday, and you can be back in plenty of time. "

"And, Miss Lindsey, will you come, too, with Miss Adair?" Mrs. Farradaysurprised both her son and Mr. Vandeford by asking the young Westernerwith the greatest graciousness. It was evident that the young leadinglady had put herself across with the grand dame, and both Mr. Vandefordand Mr. Farraday rejoiced. 

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Farraday, but I have made a professional engagementfor Saturday evening. I am going to do a monologue stunt to fill in atthe Colonial, " Miss Lindsey answered, with pleasure at the invitationshining in her dark eyes. 

"Then Dennis can drive down on Sunday and bring you back in time for teaand to see the sunset on the rhododendrons. " Mrs. Farraday furthersurprised her son and Mr. Vandeford by giving this command theimperiousness with which she was accustomed to issue hermuch-sought-after invitations. 

"Great!" exclaimed Mr. Farraday, with the same sort of eager kindnessshining in his eyes as Miss Lindsey had met when he had asked her ifbeefsteak and mushrooms would be the thing for her starvation. Thememory of that day made Miss Lindsey's eyes dim as she accepted theinvitation, though she had had hope of a last minute chance to do alittle Sunday "stunt" for Keith somewhere in subway New York. And MissLindsey needed the money, for a hundred dollars doesn't go far in NewYork even when carried in the pocket of a gown donned in the Y. W. C. A. ; but she needed the rhododendrons and the tea more than she neededthe material things that the extra fifty picked up at Keith's would havepurchased. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Farraday, it would be--be 'great' to come that way, "Miss Lindsey answered. Both Mr. Vandeford and Mr. Farraday, as well asMiss Adair, were struck with the sudden beauty that illumined MissLindsey's dark face as she smiled and quoted Mr. Farraday in heracceptance of his mother's invitation. 

"Is or is not little Lindsey a beauty, Denny?" asked Mr. Vandeford, asthey drove up-town in the Surreness after depositing the girls at theirnunnery. 

"I was just wondering, " answered Mr. Farraday. "I'm mighty glad she madesuch a hit with the mater. "

"And I'm mighty glad I'm going to lose the author of 'The PurpleSlipper' into the wilds of Westchester and the rhododendrons, while Iextract her play from Howard and slash it myself and help Rooney tomutilate it further, " said Mr. Vandeford. 

"Of course you are going to the mater's with Miss Lindsey and me fortea, per usual?" asked Mr. Farraday. 

"Can't do it. Got to work on 'The Purple Slipper' while you peoplefrolic. Good-night!" With which refusal and taunt Mr. Vandeford left Mr. Farraday at the door of his apartment-house. 

Mr. Farraday looked at his watch as he started away from the curb, foundthe hour to be eleven o'clock, wabbled the machine first to the rightand then to the left, and finally turned down-town, in which directionthe Claridge reared its twelve stories of masonry at the corner ofForty-fourth and Sixth. 

At about that minute these were the remarks exchanged through the opendoor that connected two little cell-like rooms at the Y. W. C. A. :

"Aren't you going to bed right away? I'm so sleepy that I'm brushing myface instead of my hair, " Miss Adair called to Miss Lindsey. A desperateand continual desire for sleep is the pest that haunts the rural visitorto New York and Miss Adair's young health was easily its prey. She didnot readily learn to run on nerves. 

"You go to bed; but I've got to let the hem of my tailored linen downtwo inches, so it will brush against those rhododendrons as a lady'sshould, and sew up the opening in the neck of my chiffon blouse an inchand a half, so I won't spill any of Mrs. Farraday's tea down it. Good-night!" It goes to say that when Greek meets Vandal or the Eastmeets the West, dents occur. 

And, as Mrs. Farraday had commanded, the rhododendron party at WestMarsh came to pass, to the vast enjoyment of all present, though Mr. Vandeford's absence was a deprivation to the entire company. And thatnight their friendly hearts would have ached if they had been able toget a vision of his strenuosity. Godfrey Vandeford, Theatrical Producer, was in full action, and chips from "The Purple Slipper" were flying inall directions. 

In his bedroom in the Seventy-third Street apartment, Mr. Vandeford wasstripped for the fray--to his silk pajamas--and he lay stretched uponhis fumed-oak bed, with both reading-lights turned on full blaze. In hishands was the manuscript of "The Purple Slipper, " which Mazie Villineshad literally torn from under the hands of Grant Howard to deliver toMr. Vandeford on Saturday afternoon, just a day later than the time setfor its deliverance. 

"My check and Grant's down, or no play, " she had said upon entering Mr. Vandeford's apartment at about the setting of the Saturday sun. "He'soff for a two week's d. T. , and I gotter take care of him. Twelve-fiftyis the way to write it. "

"Six hundred, and not a cent more without Grant's signature, " answeredMr. Vandeford. Mr. Adolph Meyers, who was listening to the conversationfrom the hall from which he had ushered Miss Villines into Mr. Vandeford's library, set a spring-lock on the entrance door of theapartment, and entered the library unobtrusively. 

"Twelve-fifty, you old dollar-skinner!" averred the vaudeville star, with a nasty little laugh. 

"Don't try to pull off a hold-up, Mazie. It won't work. It's Grant'smoney, " said Mr. Vandeford, with an icy calmness in his voice. And asshe spoke he looked at Mr. Adolph Meyers, who answered the look withperfect comprehension. 

"Then you'll get the manuscript when hell freezes over or your wadloosens, " she again laughed, and this time turned toward the door withthe square manila portfolio under her arm. 

An interested spectator could not have said afterward just how it didhappen that in half a second the manila portfolio was in the hands ofMr. Adolph Meyers, who also bore upon his left cheek a long andprofusely bleeding scratch. 

"Here's your check, child, and keep a good grip on Grant, so he can'tget started toward East River as he did last time, " Mr. Vandeford saidas he handed an already prepared check to the enraged girl. She was dumbfor a second, no longer. 

"I was going to leave it for five hundred, you old white-skinned blufferwith your goose-grease, strong arm, " she finally blurted out, and in atwinkling of her bright eyes her good-nature had returned. "Say, that issome play now, and I wish you'd let me play a dance girl at thatdinner-party. I'd do it refined. " There was a queer little appeal in themobile young face. "I'd like to doll up like a lady. "

"I'll think that over, Mazie, " answered Mr. Vandeford. "A song and dancefrom you might go all right. "

"Gimme a call, will you? I'll be on the job with my guzzler for a weeknow. I got to get him past, for he's some meal-ticket when times isdull. " As Mazie disposed of the check in her stocking, a degree ofaffectionate anxiety for the condition of Mr. Grant Howard showed in herface for the fraction of a second, then disappeared as she looked at Mr. Adolph Meyers. 

"Come on and get my wad from where I've put it, if you dare, Dolph, " shechallenged, then laughed, as the imperturbable Mr. Meyers both ignoredand showed her to the door with all courtesy. 

And as he lay on his bed reading over the Howard manuscript of "ThePurple Slipper, " which had just returned to him after a twenty-four houroverhauling and annotation for action by Mr. William Rooney, the stagedirector with the top price, Mr. Vandeford said to Mr. Adolph Meyers, who sat at a table beside the bed, taking down and inserting notes intothe manuscript as they sprang from Mr. Vandeford's brain, almost beforethey got past his lips:

"No wonder Mazie could see herself in this show, Pops! Grant has peppedit up almost to her standard. Whee-ugh!" With this whistle Mr. Vandefordturned page twenty of the first act and handed it over to Mr. Meyers, who began to devour it with eyes that took in almost the whole page at aglance. 

"It is a snap-shot of Miss Hawtry he has made, Mr. Vandeford, sir. Mr. Howard has never done better. "

"Yes, that's what he intended to do, but I'm going to clean it out abit. Run an insert of the scene on page five to seven and a half out ofMiss Adair's manuscript. It is just as good and a little--littlemore--say, Pops, cut out seven lines on page fourteen from the seconddown, and take this from me instead. " Mr. Vandeford closed his eyes anddictated a bit of dialogue between two of the minor characters of "ThePurple Slipper, " which cleared up a point Mr. Howard and Mr. Rooney andthe original author had all left at loose ends. As he dictated, Mr. Meyers wrote on the blank page opposite the lines, and made somecabalistic signs for insertion. 

Slowly they progressed through the first act, Mr. Vandeford reading fromtwo manuscripts and reconciling Mr. Howard's shaky, pen annotations, Mr. Rooney's blue-pencil, action directions, and Miss Adair's originalwanderings from the point with many brilliant returns in quaintdialogue. 

"That child has got more brains and uses them less than would seempossible, " growled Mr. Vandeford, as he with a few deft lines near theclose of the second act got the heroine off the stage and out of animpossible situation in which Miss Adair had involved her. 

"It is that her characters talk with interest, but act in awkwardness, Mr. Vandeford, sir. Another good play can be written by Miss Adair, "Mr. Meyers said as he put in two lines and a cross star sign. 

"God forbid!" ejaculated Mr. Vandeford, in all sincerity. "Here, Pops, get this first act down to those girls waiting in the office. Did youget two for all night, so one could get out the parts? You know Rooneywill expect a reading to-morrow before he begins rehearsals. "

"It is three girls now waiting at the office for the night, and amessenger in your hall, Mr. Vandeford, sir, " answered Mr. Meyers as hegathered up his annotated pages, put them into a new manila portfolio, and rose to take them to the A. D. T. Boy asleep on the floor in thehall. 

"We haven't rushed in a manuscript like this since 'Dear Geraldine, 'have we, Pops?" asked Mr. Vandeford, as he picked up the second act. "It's just nine o'clock, and those girls ought to get through by threeA. M. Don't let Steinberg charge up twelve hours on you. "

"It will be at eight that they are still working, Mr. Vandeford, sir, and night type-writing means much money, " Mr. Meyers answered, as hedeparted with his package. 

"At that we'd better get busy to feed it to 'em, " Mr. Vandeford said, ashe picked up and began to dig into the pages. 

For the three hours ensuing he and his henchman worked with never ahitch in their growls and scratches and muttered exchanges. Then, asthey came close to the climax of the last act, Mr. Vandeford sat up fromhis pillows, which were heated almost beyond endurance with his nightlights and his tousled head, and gave forth a roar. 

"I'll be hanged if I'll let that scene between Rosalind and her lover gowith that filthy twist that Howard has given it! The words are almostthe original, but what will Hawtry make of what he's put into it?"

"It will be the worst she makes, " answered Mr. Meyers. "But it is forpep very good, Mr. Vandeford, sir, and can be tried out. "

"That's right, Pops. I wonder if I am a Broadway producer or--or theczar of a young ladies' seminary, " Mr. Vandeford growled as he lay down, and again went to work. 

"It is that Miss Adair will not understand it until Miss Hawtry is atwork, and before that all may be dead, " Mr. Meyers consoled, as he, too, fell upon "The Purple Slipper. "

At two-thirty the now soggy A. D. T. Received the last manila envelopeto deliver to the busy girls down in Mr. Vandeford's office, and thatdistinguished producer was stretched out on his bed in cool darknesswhile Mr. Meyers was in a subway nodding his way up to his humble roomon One Hundred and Sixteenth Street. 

"If I live through seeing her past the reading of the blamed thingto-morrow, I'll be stronger than I think I am, " Mr. Vandeford murmuredas he felt the calmness of sleep fall upon him. 

CHAPTER VI

Rehearsals for "The Purple Slipper" had been called positively forSeptember first, and the response became unanimous at about fifteenminutes to eleven at the Barrett Theater on West Forty-sixth Street;that is, it was unanimous except for the presence of the author and theangel--Miss Adair and Mr. Farraday--and Miss Violet Hawtry, the star, who never came to first readings until the whole cast was assembled andcould be impressed with the fact that she came and went as she listed. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I take it that you all know one another--and Mr. William Rooney, " said Mr. Vandeford, as he took a seat at the left of atable placed in the center of the stage just beyond the footlights. Mr. Rooney marched to a place beside him, and rapped with a large blackpencil for attention from the groups into which the dozen members of thecast had fallen after mutual introductions and greetings. 

"Everybody grab a seat that is good enough to glue to for five hourswhile Fido here gives out your parts, " commanded Mr. Rooney, without inany way acknowledging Mr. Vandeford's introduction to the company. Mr. Rooney's voice was low and rich, and had the precision and decision of amachine-gun in its utterances. With hurried obedience the entire companylooked about the stage for seats. 

Miss Bébé Herne, though having fifty pounds the advantage of any of theothers in avoirdupois, was the first seated. She merely dropped downupon a stout pine bench, the front of which was stuccoed to representantique marble, and peremptorily motioned Mr. Wallace Kent to thatportion of the seat left after she had wedged herself as far to one sideas possible. Mr. Kent obeyed immediately, though he had just placed arickety, stuffed chair beside the gold one occupied by Miss BlancheGrayson, the glowerer. Miss Lindsey sat on the end of an overturned boxhedge before a drop curtain of a twilight night, and Mr. Reginald Leighsat in a wicker chair under a brilliant canvas flowering shrub of noknown variety. The rest of the company were soon seated and receivingthe small, blue-backed, manuscript books from the pale young man whomMr. Rooney always addressed as Fido. 

"Everybody here but Miss Hawtry, " said Mr. Rooney, and he glared at Mr. Vandeford as though that gentleman must be concealing the star in thepocket of his gray, silk-crash coat. 

"And Miss Hawtry is here also, " came in a very beautifully modulatedvoice from left stage, as the tardy star came down center, and stooddirectly in front of the table at which sat the producer and hisstage-manager. Mr. Vandeford rose immediately and said good-morning; Mr. Rooney kept his seat and looked Miss Hawtry through and through with acold reproof. 

"Five minutes late, " he said with an edge in the words that cut. 

"I really beg your pardon, and it shall not happen--" the star wasbeginning to say in an apologetic tone, which bent under the cold edgeof the assault, as Mr. Vandeford had hoped it would, when Mr. Rooney cutit off with a curt command to pale Fido. 

"Give out the Hawtry part. "

Miss Hawtry accepted the little blue booklet handed her by Fido, andalso Mr. Vandeford's chair, placed carefully in the center of the stagefor her. The first brush between Mr. Rooney and Miss Hawtry had beenpulled off and he had won, much to Mr. Vandeford's delight. For "MissCut-up" he had had to hire, pay for, and fire, three successivestage-managers, and she had managed all three. Mr. Rooney's boast wasthat no star had ever managed him and that he had successfully stagedevery play he had undertaken; hence a spectacular salary. Also he feltthat his reputation was at stake in the Hawtry duel, and he wasdetermined to back his own method. 

"Scene first, act first; Betty Carrington is discovered on stage. Go toit, Betty!" he commanded as Fido took a seat at the end of the table, opened a copy of the first act, and sat ready for annotations. 

"How beautiful the morning is and--" the glowering Miss Blanche Graysonwas beginning to read from her cerulean booklet, when an interruptionoccurred. 

Miss Adair and Mr. Farraday entered from the stage door. 

Mr. Vandeford looked at Mr. Rooney, and muttered under his breath:"Angel and author, Bill. Easy!"

"Shoot, " answered Mr. Rooney, in a mild undertone, though he glared atthe company as though in a cold rage. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Miss Adair, the author ofour play. You have all of you met Mr. Farraday. Mr. Rooney, ourstage-director, Miss Adair and Mr. Farraday. " Mr. Vandeford made theintroductions as rapidly as possible and in a voice of such coolnessthat Miss Adair looked at him in astonishment and then at the assembledcompany with great timidity. With special trepidation did she regard Mr. Rooney, who had bobbed his scrubby, black-mopped head at her with noexpression at all in his little black eyes, while he refused to see Mr. Farraday's offered hand. 

"Have seats in the left stage-box, " he directed them in the same tone ofvoice with which he had quelled Miss Hawtry. "Now, get going there, Betty Carrington, and open again. "

Mr. Vandeford led Miss Adair and Mr. Farraday out into the wings in aroundabout path to the left stage-box, and paused with them out of sightof Mr. Rooney. Then the humanity came back into his face and voice as hespoke to his friends in an undertone. 

"Rooney is the genius among stage-directors, but he's the original andgenuine Tartar. How are you both?" As he asked the question he held outa hand to each of them, and his smile held the cordiality to which theywere both accustomed. 

"We had a blow-out on Riverside Drive, and that's what makes us late. Now I've got to take the car around to the garage, " Mr. Farradayapologized, as he rumpled his leonine mane, fanned himself with his hat, and departed. 

Miss Adair fairly clung to the hand of friendship offered her, withrelief that it had not been withdrawn forever, as she had feared fromthe coolness of Mr. Vandeford's greeting before the assembled company of"The Purple Slipper. "

"I'm afraid, " she murmured with both alarm and amusement sparkling inher gray eyes, in which Mr. Vandeford found himself searching for acertain expression with the eagerness with which he always looked for itafter even a brief separation from his author. It was there andundimmed. "Let's go sit down where he told us to, " Miss Adairwhispered. 

"Good girl!" laughed Mr. Vandeford as he led the way to the leftstage-box to which Mr. Rooney had summarily banished the author and theangel. He seated Miss Adair at the front edge of the box and took thechair close at her left. She was thus bulwarked and buttressed for anyassault that might be hurled her way. It came in a very few minutes. 

Miss Bébé Herne and Miss Mildred Lindsey were in the midst of reading ananimated dialogue on page five by the time Miss Adair's attention wasfirmly riveted on the stage and the reading in progress. Fortunately thelittle scene was of her own writing. Mr. Vandeford had put it back intothe play instead of the paraphrase Mr. Howard had made of it, and he wassurprised to find how deeply grateful he was to himself for having givenher this bit as he watched the home-made color rise under the gray eyesas the author sat and heard her written words come to life in a littlebit of really sparkling character comedy, which both Miss Lindsey andexperienced Bébé were acting as well as reading in such a way as tobring out all the charm of the lines. The happiness of both author andproducer lasted about two minutes, then it was broken into by Mr. William Rooney with a crash. 

"Nuff, there, nuff!" he commanded, in the midst of a quaint epigram, which Bébé was delivering with unction. "Audiences don't want to hearsmart babble after their seats are all down. They want to see the starand get going. Cut in Miss Hawtry at the second set-to of Harriet andaunt. Take it this way: 'And my dear Rosalind has said, Harriet--' EnterRosalind with the line you have there. "

"Yes, it's time for me to get on and--" Miss Hawtry was agreeingcomplacently, when she was quickly snapped off in her remark. 

"Line, Miss Hawtry, not gab, " Mr. Rooney commanded. 

Instantly Miss Hawtry was reading from her lines and faithful Fido wasmaking annotations upon his manuscript with strokes that spelledfinality to the stricken author, who raised her protesting eyes to theproducer of her play. 

"Steady now, " Mr. Vandeford whispered. "This is the first reading, andhe's setting. We can't side-track him now. Later you can--" but theauthor's attention was caught by the dialogue between MissHawtry and Bébé, which was the first full dose of the Howardfifteen-hundred-dollar, inebriate, but very brilliant and Hawtry-like, "pep. "

"Oh, I didn't write that at all!" she whispered, as she fairly shrankagainst Mr. Vandeford's strength of mind, if not against the strength ofhis arm that he had laid across the back of her chair. 

"Just sit still and listen to-day as though it were somebody else'splay, and we will talk it over afterward. You know I--I warned you, " hewhispered with soothing tenderness, his lips almost against her ear inthe dusk of the box. 

"I promised, and I will, " she answered him, and he was at a loss toknow if she really did flutter to him a fraction of an inch as he hadsuspected her of doing in his car on the night of her début on Broadway. The charm of Kentucky girls is composed of many illusions and realities, which they themselves hardly understand, and use by hereditary instinct. 

And with her proud head poised in all stateliness, Miss Patricia Adairsat for five solid hours and heard "The Purple Slipper, " _née_ "TheRenunciation of Rosalind, " read from first to last page by the peoplewho were to present it to the public; and Mr. Vandeford found his heartbleeding for the thrusts into hers. Not a protest did she make, but theroses faded and the gray eyes sank far back behind their black defendinglashes, and they were glittering with suppressed tears as the weariedcompany rose to its feet after the last line. 

"Here to-morrow at eleven sharp, " were Mr. Rooney's words of dismissalas he and Fido followed the company in their hurried exit toward thestage-door, with not so much as a glance at the box in which sat thestricken author. 

And there alone, off the dismal and dismantled stage in the cool dusk ofthe box, producer and author faced each other and the situation. 

"If my grandfather were not--not--dying, I'd take it right home and burnit all up!" were the first words the author of "The Purple Slipper" gaveutterance to, after the last echo of the last footstep had died off thestage. 

"You couldn't, you've sold it to--to me, " Mr. Vandeford answered with acoolness in his voice that restored her mental balance, as he hadintended it should. "Now answer me truly; is it or is it not a goodplay?"

"It's not my play; it's horrid and vulgar!" the author stormed, withlightning burning up the tears in her gray eyes. 

"That whole situation is exactly as you wrote it, and about a third ofthe lines are yours, or will be yours by the time it is at the firstnight, if you play the game. I have not decided whether I think it is agood play or not. If I think it isn't, you may have it and burn it up. Idon't know what Rooney thinks yet. If he doesn't want to go on, Iwon't. " Mr. Vandeford had known the women of many climes, and he foundhimself using that experience on Miss Adair with great skill, though ithurt him to do so. 

"Part of it I don't even understand, " Miss Adair continued to storm, andMr. Vandeford was about to discover that either a Blue-grass woman orhorse, with the bit in their respective mouths, is mighty apt to go apace before curbed. "What was that scene in the last act just before thedinner-party? She read so fast and he had his back to me, so I supposethat is the reason I didn't get it. " Miss Adair was alluding to thescene whose vulgarity Mr. Vandeford had wished to sacrifice, but whichMr. Meyers had pleaded for on account of its extra dash of "pep" exactlysuited to the Hawtry style. 

"You won't be able to judge the Hawtry scenes at all until the openingnight, " Mr. Vandeford answered, positively quaking in his boots for fearthat Miss Adair would force him to an elucidation of the scene, whichwas mostly of the cleverest innuendo. "She is a miserable study, and sheand Height rehearse the big scenes alone. She just walks through withthe company. Truly, you can hardly judge anything of what a play will befrom just a reading or from any rehearsal. Please trust me and help meas you promised you would. "

"But the play isn't mine, at all! My play is--is killed--and dead, andmurdered. " Miss Adair persisted, still writhing from the butchery. 

"It is your play; but granting that it isn't, at all, think what it willmean to all of us if this--this nobody's play succeeds. Think what itwill mean to the actors in the company. Miss Lindsey was hungry when shegot her first advance on your play, and Bébé Herne hasn't had a partthat suited her so well in years. If it goes she ought to have enoughto make her easy; and she is getting old now--"

"If you'll say and tell everybody that the play isn't mine, of courseI'll help you, and--" Miss Adair agreed, with the tears dried by theanger and a degree of sanity returning at Mr. Vandeford's skilful appealto her generosity, which he made when he saw that his attempt to bluffher about calling off the play had failed. Mr. William Rooney came intothe box. His hat was tilted on the back of his head and in the corner ofhis mouth was a large cigar, which he was chewing and not smoking. Heseated himself without invitation and spoke with his usual abruptness:

"That play is a hummer, Vandeford, if I can just make the dolts put itacross. It is a genuine Hawtry vehicle, but in a new vein. It's acorking situation and yet rings true. Did any old dame really have thespunk to put that dinner-party across on both lover and husband thatyou've got in your play, miss?" As Mr. Rooney asked the question ofMiss Adair, it was the first time that he had seemed aware of theexistence of the author of "The Purple Slipper. "

"It's not my play, Mr. Rooney, " Miss Adair said haughtily to thethick-skinned genius. "That--that situation is--was--is true, however. "

"Then it's your play all right!" declared Mr. Rooney. "The situation isall there is to any play. The staging is the rest. Anybody can put ingood lines. Any simp can doll up the actors in costumes, and one actorcan put the ideas across pretty near as good as any other, if he'sdirected all right; but when it's done, the play is the man's or woman'swho made the first layout of the idea--and what the stage-manager doesto it. Author and stage manager, I say. The rest is easy. "

"That's what I've been telling Miss Adair, " Mr. Vandeford eagerlyassented. 

"And authors ought to go off and die until the first night, too, " Mr. Rooney continued to say. "When I staged 'Only Annie' for E. And K. , Itold that author if he came on my stage any more at rehearsals I wouldbiff him one in the nutt, and I meant it, too. His thinks and mine raninto each other so bad that I was near crazed. "

"But an author writes a play and he or she knows--" Miss Adair wasbeginning to say to Mr. Rooney with kind patience, when he interruptedher as he rose to take his departure. 

"The author oughter write all he knows and let it go at that, " he saidas he spat on the carpet of the box with no sign of compunction. "Thestage-manager can do the rest. " And with no form of leave-taking hedeparted. 

"And the American drama has to be filtered through that sort of--ofilliteracy?" Miss Adair turned and demanded of Mr. Vandeford. 

"The American drama is often written by people who have been too closelyassociated with books on a library shelf, so that it needs to befiltered through a little gross humanity to get across to--humanity inthe gross, which pays to see it. If a scholar writes and produces a playscholars go to see it all right, but all the scholars in America onlyfill one theater twice, and then what is to become of scholar and wifeand children, as well as producer, manager, and theater-owner?" Mr. Vandeford spoke slowly, choosing his words. 

"Aren't any of the stage-managers educated gentlemen?" demanded MissAdair, with an interest that was fast becoming impersonal, for she hadthe wit to see that in some ways Mr. Vandeford's summary of thesituation between author and stage-manager was sound. 

"Yes, a few, but not the most successful ones, " answered Mr. Vandeford. "I tell you truly that a stage-manager has to be a genius to succeed. Hemust be a man with a vision and sheer brutality enough to put the visionthat he gets from his conception of the play he is producing intotwenty other mentalities and make them present the play as a harmoniouswhole to an audience. He cannot be a respecter of persons while he ispounding, and he must not be interfered with or his vision is obscuredand the play loses. Do you see what I mean?"

"Then an author ought to produce his own plays, " Miss Adair decided verypromptly. 

"Yes, " answered Mr. Vandeford, with a whimsical smile down into theeager, pale, intensely creative face raised to his. "When an author isborn who will study years until he is an expert electrician, other yearsin great studios until he can paint scenery that is a work of art, delveinto old books until he knows costuming of thousands of periods inhundreds of lands and how to sketch it, then gives himself to thestudying of stagecraft and the writing of half a hundred plays until hewrites one that is really great; after which, if he has the strength andthe nerves to produce that play, we will all go to see the great humandrama. That is, if he has had time to live with and in the hearts ofpeople so as to supply that gross sympathy with the masses who buytickets which Rooney got while climbing out of the gutter. God grant hecomes some day to America--but you are not he!"

"No, I'm not, " admitted Miss Adair, with her eyes smiling back into hiswhimsically, "but what you say makes me see that the--theproducer--_you_ are the whole thing. You get it all--me and Mr. Rooneyand Miss Hawtry together and pound us into--into a play. I make thatacknowledgment. "

"If you ask the stage-manager he will say that the success of a play ishis; the costumer will claim that success; the star knows it is his orhers, and the lead is sure that it is due to the support; the authorsurely has some claim to draw the huge royalties, and the location ofhis theater makes the theater-owner know that any play in that theaterwill go. Yes, the producer will always claim the whole show if it allgoes well. If it fails the show then belongs entirely to the producer, who picked it in its manuscript stage, and he is no good as a producer. If he fails a few times hand-running, to the scrap heap with him!"

"But you've never failed, " Miss Adair exclaimed, with a dart of fear inher eyes. 

"My last show, 'Miss Cut-up, ' was a flivver all right, though we justsaved our faces. But I've got a show now that will put me in electriclight for two years hand-running and--" Mr. Vandeford was in a panic ashe realized that he was going so far in that curious thinking out loudto Miss Adair that he had been about to launch forth on "The Rosie PosieGirl" to her. It would have been like telling a friend the plans of hisown funeral with enthusiasm, as it would be obvious to her that Hawtrywould have to fail in and drop "The Purple Slipper" before becoming thetriumphant "Rosie Posie Girl. "

"I'm willing to--to let them cut my play all up if--if it will reallyrun two years and make your reputation more brilliant than it is, " MissAdair said, interrupting his pause of consternation at his nearbetrayal of his plans. She spoke with the worshipful uplift of her grayeyes to his that had betrayed him in the first place to such a confusionof schemes. "If it added anything to it, I would even be willing to letyou put the Adair name to the vulgar thing they read here to-day, but itwouldn't help it anywhere except in Louisville and Cincinnati andNashville and Atlanta and New Orleans and Richmond. People don't know usin New York, and any name will do here; so mine won't--won't have to bedisgraced. "

"Please don't say that!" pleaded Mr. Vandeford with consternation in hissoul as he thought of the development of the Howard "pep" Hawtry wouldmake as the rehearsals of "The Purple Slipper" progressed. "It is thesame thing with Miss Hawtry as it is with Mr. Rooney; she has a--a kindof gutter drag that gets across to the multitude, and of course yourplay had to be--be fitted to her. Hawtry, to be Hawtry, has to do andsay things that you couldn't write at all, that you couldn't very wellunderstand; but they'll get the crowd going and coming. Please give meyour promise again to sit tight and see it through--or go home and leaveit all to me. " Mr. Vandeford was surprised to feel how hard his heartbeat, and he was afraid that it sounded like the echo of an anvil chorusin the big empty theater. 

"I never have to give promises a second time, and this is the last timeI am ever going to cry out, " Miss Adair answered him, with a lift to herproud little head. "I am going to stay right here and help if I can, andlearn. But I won't in any way distress or--or trouble you. Please don'tget me on your mind!"

"I won't get you on my mind, " Mr. Vandeford answered out loud--"becauseI've got you in my heart, poor kiddie, " he continued to himself, in akind of desperation. 

Mr. Dennis Farraday burst in upon the dusk of the theater and thetragedy of the situation. He was vastly excited and he waved a letterin his hand. 

"Oh, you Patricia Adair, why didn't you tell me that you are old RogerAdair's sister?" he demanded. 

"Why, what do you mean about Roger? Do you know--"

"Do I know him? Just listen to this, will you, and here I've _not_ beenhanding you around on a silver salver for two weeks!" He then read thefollowing letter aloud to Miss Adair and Mr. Vandeford:

 Adairville, Kentucky. 

 DEAR DENNY:

 Well, here I am! I'm the Captain of my county in the Army of the Furrows, and hope to turn in many thousand pounds of food stuffs for you people in New York to live on. In the meantime Miss Patricia Adair, my sister, is going to New York to see to the putting on of a play she has written for one Mr. Godfrey Vandeford. She is the greatest girl ever, and you stay right on the job seeing that things go right for her while I plant these potatoes to keep you from starving. She will be at the Y. W. C. A. And will sleep and eat safe enough, but you look out for her and don't let her get homesick. If she needs me, of course I will come, but she's a plucky child and you are the best ever, so I'll go on ploughing with a free mind. Let me know how it all goes. What sort of a chap is that Vandeford?

 Yours as always and forever, ROGER. 

"Can you beat it?" demanded good Dennis, with a blaze of friendship inhis eyes as he regarded Miss Patricia Adair. "It was forwarded from myold office number to my new, to Westchester to Nantucket, back to myoffice, and finally arrived this morning. I've just sent Roger athousand-word telegram, and I hope he never knows that I was off the jobten days. Give that child here to me, Van, and go get a report on yourcharacter for me before you look at her again. Roger Adair is the bestfriend I've got on earth, next to you, and you'd better watch yourstep. "

"I like his steps, " Miss Adair said, and again Mr. Vandeford feltuncertain as to that curious little flutter that was like a nestling ofwhich he felt he was never to be certain and which Mr. Farraday did notseem to observe at all. 

"Didn't you know that Roger was turning you over to me, young lady? Whyhave you side-stepped me?" Mr. Farraday demanded of the young author, ina voice of great severity. 

"I thought that Roger was going to write to a Mr. Denny about me; and Ididn't write to him that Mr. Denny hadn't come to take care of mebecause--because I was afraid he'd leave his work and come up to lookafter me himself. I didn't remember the Farraday part of your name atall. Roger always said 'Denny. '"

"Well, I suppose I'll have to accept that excuse, as it sounds fairlyreasonable; but I'd like to know, Van, why you have been keeping mychild here in this musty old theater until past luncheon time when shemust be both tired and hungry. Come out to Claremont to luncheon, bothof you, this minute, " Mr. Farraday both questioned and commanded, withpure delight in his voice and manner. "I'll go run the car around to thedoor, so you won't have to walk in the sun. " And he departed as quicklyas he had come. 

That night Mr. Vandeford lay stretched on his bed in a dark coolness, with his hands clasped over his eyes, when Mr. Farraday came in with hislatch-key at twelve-thirty. 

"Denny?" he asked from the darkness as Mr. Farraday was tiptoeing pasthis open door, through which the southern sea-breeze was pouring, "'Whatsort of chap _is_ that Vandeford?'"

"The telegram I sent read, 'the best ever. '"

"Are you competent to judge me?"

"I am. "

"Good-night!"

For an hour before this masculine version of a scene a feminine realthing was being conducted in the two little dotted-muslin-curtainedcells at the Y. W. C. A. Miss Adair was telling Miss Lindsey "all aboutit, " and sparks and tears both were in the atmosphere. The explosion wasbrought on by Miss Lindsey remarking to Miss Adair:

"You know, honey lady, that play of yours is simply ripping, but it isnot at all like--like what I thought it would be from hearing you andMr. Farraday tell it. "

"It's not my play at all; it's Mr. Vandeford's. He got somebody to fitit to Miss Hawtry, " replied Miss Adair, calmly, as she began to brushher dark, sleek mane. 

"What do you mean?" demanded Miss Lindsey, in astonishment. 

"He just took the dinner situation in my play and got a man to make anew one out of it that is--is vulgar enough to appeal to the New Yorktheater-goers. He let everybody put in anything they wanted to, insteadof what I wrote. He left in a little of mine to compliment me. It's allright, because nobody would have gone to see my play if anybody goes tosee--see his. " Miss Adair went on calmly with the fifty-third stroke onher raven tresses, but her eyes were beginning to blaze. 

"Mr. Vandeford's a complete fool, " was on the tip of Miss Lindsey'stongue, but she remembered her main chance, which was the favor of Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, and said instead: "I wish you would let me see a copyof the play as you wrote it. Have you one?"

"I have, in my trunk, and I'll read it to you, " answered Miss Adair, andin defensive pride she produced a copy of "The Purple Slipper, " whichbore the unexpurgated title of "The Renunciation of Rosalind, " andproceeded to read it to Miss Lindsey, with both fire and tragedy in hervoice. 

The operation occupied the two hours before midnight, and Miss Lindseylay prostrate when it was finished. 

"Now, what do you think?" demanded Miss Adair. 

"I wish I could have had the making of it over, and for myself insteadof Hawtry. That's no play as it stands, but there is a dandy one to beworked up from it that you--you--that would be like you, " was the replythat Miss Lindsey gave as she looked out into distance, with glowingeyes. 

"Do you think that--that horrid play will be a success?" asked MissAdair, with her voice sparkling. 

"I do, " answered Miss Lindsey. "And it is curious that with all itschanges it is still--still yours. There is a lot more of your stuff leftthan you realize, and the turns that--that Mr. Vandeford's playwrighthas given it are very clever. Lots of times he's just paraphrased yourlines into Hawtryites. It will be interesting to see how much of you isleft when we all come out of the wash for the first night. "

"I wish I were dead and buried!" she was surprised to hear Miss Adairconfess, and there then ensued a downpour, which the hardier Westerngirl weathered for very love of the young Southern tempest in her arms. 

"I suppose I ought to go home, out of the way, but I'm going to stayand--and learn--and write another one all by myself, " she finallysobbed, with returning courage, thus comforting herself with the resolvewhich every playwright who ever built a play has used to keep from goingentirely mad during the rehearsals of his first play. 

"Just try to live until the New York opening, and then see how you feel. That is the way actors do to keep going during the awful grilling of therehearsals and the road try-out, " advised Miss Lindsey, with greatsoothing. 

"I will, " promised Miss Adair, and turned her face on her pillow, tosleep, while Miss Lindsey took herself and her jar of cold-cream intoher own cell. 

"I wish I had a chance at that play! What'll she do when she sees Hawtryand Height really in action in some of those scenes?" she murmured intoher own pillow. 

The next morning Miss Adair rose, donned a most lovely home-spun linengown, which was of an old ivory hue and which had been spun upon thelooms of her great-great-great grandmother by that lady's slaves, crowned this toilet with the floppy hat covered with crushed roses sheand Miss Lindsey and Mr. Farraday had purchased, and reported herselfabout an hour late at the rehearsals of "The Purple Slipper, " whoseauthorship she had repudiated. She seated herself in the dusk of theleft stage-box and bared her breast for blows. They came fast andfurious, but other breasts and heads beside her own suffered. Mr. William Rooney was in full action. The entire company was on the stagein the midst of the last ensemble bit in the first act, all talking andacting with blue booklets of lines in their hands. 

"Here you, Mr. Kent, " roared Mr. Rooney as he rose from behind histable, at one side of which sat faithful Fido annotating his copy of themanuscript, "make up to that old lady like she was the last hamsandwich extinct and you knew you were going to be fed on alfalfa therest of your life. Get her going, man, get her going! She's an old fool, and you know it, but you've got to have her plantation and slaves. Youcan keep a chorus-girl car in the garage if you just get her wellfooled. Fool along, fool along!"

"'I will write the message to your son, Madam Carrington, and dispatchit forthwith by one of my own black boys. Is my hand not ever ready foryour service and my wit--and also my heart?'" declaimed Mr. Kent withsatisfactory fervor, as he kissed Miss Herne's fat white hand. 

"Now blob, Miss Herne, blob!" directed Mr. Rooney, coming entirely frombehind the table. "You are the fool of this show and don't let anybodyget that away from you. "

"'I pray a blessing on your excellent friendship, Judge Cheneworth, andI will rest me content in--'" Miss Herne answered in a most excellentimitation of the helplessness of an old grand dame. 

"Break in there, Miss Lindsey, break in!" raved Mr. Rooney. "'Contentin' is your cue. Grab it. Remember you are just the sister and only inthe play to swell the list of actors on the program, so grab and keepa-grabbing if you want a place on the salary list. Now, everybody on atMiss Lindsey's lines and break up this drivel between the old birds. "

"'Mother, Rosalind bids me say to you that--'"

"Crowd on everybody, crowd on, and keep things going! It will be nineo'clock by now, and we'll have to begin to feed the audience the huggingby a quarter to ten or they will go out and look elsewhere. --Say, Mr. Leigh, are your feet mates? You don't handle 'em even. "

Miss Adair rose and stole from the box to the stage-door, and looked upand down the street to see if Mr. Vandeford was approaching. She feltthat she could not stand more alone. He was nowhere in sight, and shedecided to walk around the block and see if the sun at ninety degreeswould warm her chill. After this journey she returned to her post andfound the box still empty. Mr. Vandeford had not arrived nor had Mr. Farraday, but she seated herself resolutely. She was just in time towitness a pitched battle between Miss Hawtry and Mr. Rooney. 

"If you are determined to walk through the scenes, Miss Hawtry, do itawake and not asleep!" stormed Mr. Rooney. 

"Very well, " answered Miss Hawtry, but Miss Adair's heart warmed to heras she noted the contemptuousness in her manner directed toward herstage-manager. 

"Now see here, Height, you know that you want to get away with thiswoman before her husband gets back. You can't do it with kid gloves on. Spit on your hands, man, and grab her by the hair. You say: 'Rosalind, astrong man's love is a weapon which a woman can easily turn againstherself with deadly outcome, ' like you were begging her to go with youover to Ligget's for an ice-cream soda with crushed strawberries. Say itthis way. " And as she sat astounded Miss Adair heard a line that she hadwritten in a sympathetic fervor of imagination and which was perhaps herfavorite in the whole play, uttered by Mr. William Rooney with the mostexquisite and manly feeling, while his homely, vulgar face and body weretransformed into the same exquisiteness. A breathless happinessdescended upon her, and she waited in it to hear the beautiful Mr. Gerald Height give utterance to it with the same art. Miss Hawtrybrought her to earth. 

"Mr. Rooney, " she said with an utter lack of appreciation orcomprehension of the bit of high art that had flashed upon her, "it isin my contract with Mr. Vandeford that I rehearse my scenes alone withmy support until the dress rehearsal. "

"Yes, I might have judged that from 'Miss Cut-up, '" Mr. Rooney answeredher with a blow straight from his shoulder. "Give little sister hercue, Height, and let her run on to rescue you. God knows you need it!"

"Mr. Rooney, I'll have you understand--" Miss Hawtry came to the centerto continue her tirade, when Mr. Rooney struck the decisive blow. 

"Everybody on and begin the scene over!" he commanded right past theenraged star. "Take it up, Kent, with Miss Herne at 'I will write themessage to your son, ' and get her going, get her going!"

At this forceful command the machinery of "The Purple Slipper" was setin motion, and swept Miss Hawtry off center and into her place for thetime being. 

And despite herself Miss Adair was fascinated in watching the machinegrind away, with now and then a spark from Mr. Rooney that took fire inthe very core of her heart or brain or solar plexus--wherever "TheRenunciation of Rosalind" had been conceived. Miss Adair did not knowwhat it was that thus affected her, but she had got hold of her end ofthe psychic cord along which the author feeds the hostile stage-managerin such a manner that on the first night of a successful play they cansay to each other with clasped hands and wet eyes, "Well done!"

And while Miss Adair sat under the spell of Mr. Rooney, Mr. Vandefordsat in his big chair in his office and fought a battle for "The PurpleSlipper" that resulted in a draw that filled him with anxiety. 

"I can find only one open booking in New York for October first, Mr. Vandeford, sir, " Mr. Meyers was saying, with trouble settled in a cloudupon his broad brow. "I have it fairly good for the road for 'The PurpleSlipper' until October first, and then it is a jump to Toronto orMinneapolis, which is into the grave. "

"I suppose that one opening on Broadway is Weiner's New CarnivalTheater, " Mr. Vandeford asked as though the question were useless. 

"You have it right, " answered Mr. Meyers. "Still, Mr. Vandeford, sir, itis always failures that leave Broadway openings into which road showscan jump. "

"Until last year, yes, Pops, but now New York is so full of people withmunition and war-contract money in their pockets that any show, nomatter how rotten, that gets in a Broadway theater plays to capacity andstays. They'd go to 'The Old District Skule' because the doors were openand there is no other place to go. What are we going to do?"

"I advise that you see Mr. Breit and trust to some very big failure togive you a place. It is that he will always give you a preference, "answered Mr. Meyers with little hope, but determination. 

"Yes, Breit will let me in if there is a squeezing chance, but Breitdoesn't own a theater, nor do I, or you, Pops; and I don't blame thefellows who do own them for filling them with their own cheap companiesand plays so as to get their buckets under the whole golden stream. Whygive money away to any independent producer?"

"Mr. Breit said that he had news that Mr. Weiner would open that NewCarnival with a Hilliard show, name not given, " Mr. Meyers added to theinformation already prepared for Mr. Vandeford. 

"I'll see goose-grease frying out of him in Inferno before he gets it, "said Mr. Vandeford, coolly. "I know that is his game, but I'll putacross this 'Purple Slipper' with Hawtry and keep my 'Rosie Posie Girl'until I get good and ready to let her play it. Then I'll produce it tothe tune of a half-million dollars and not Mr. Weiner. I've never beensqueezed, and I'm not going to have this rotten game beat me. I'll goover and see Breit and he'll jockey me a corner on Broadway, somehow. Back at three. " And Mr. Vandeford walked out of his office as coolly asthough not sizzling inwardly with anxiety. 

"I've got you next on the booking of about four-fifths of the theaterson Broadway, Van, " said Mr. Breit, the booking king, as he and Mr. Vandeford smoked leisurely cigars in his big, cool office. "You shouldworry! E. And K. And S. And Z. Are bound to pick some flivvers and inyou go. Loaf on the road and lose money like a little man. "

"My contract expires with Hawtry if I don't present her on Broadway bySeptember fifteenth. "

"That _is_ a bit of a pickle! But she won't have any show to jump into, and she'll compromise with you; won't she?"

"She'll have to, " Mr. Vandeford declared. "Coming down to Atlantic Cityto see 'The Purple Slipper' open two weeks from Monday, Septembertwenty-third?"

"I'll be there. Rooney says it is a go; says little genius amateur wroteit and Grant Howard 'pepped' it. That right?"

"Yes. By!"

An hour later, in the coolness and seclusion of the grill room of TheMonks, Mr. Vandeford was imparting his predicament to his partner inthe venture and adventures of "The Purple Slipper. "

"And you are worrying about whether Miss Hawtry will stay by us for thefew weeks we'll have to loaf on the road or even close while waiting forthe New York opening?" questioned Mr. Farraday. "Say, aren't you a bitunjust in your judgment of her, Van?"

"I know the whole tribe of actors, and you don't, Denny, " answered Mr. Vandeford, over a tall glass of iced tea he was drinking; he didn't knowexactly why, but the habit had grown on him lately. 

"Then why not try to put her under contract for those few indefiniteweeks?" suggested Mr. Farraday, over his cup of hot coffee. 

"You talk as though we were dealing with sane people, " answered Mr. Vandeford. "She's got us and she'll keep us guessing up to the lastminute, and then put some kind of screws on. I have got to figure outthe likely ones, to see what I can do to jam them. "

"Well, anyway, ask her. I think she'll stand by us. I know she will, "said Mr. Farraday, with both faith and conviction in his voice. "You doher an injustice, I say!"

"I'm not going to make her any request or offer, Denny. I can't, " saidMr. Vandeford, as he looked at the ice floating in his glass of tea. 

"Of course, " assented Mr. Farraday, with pained sympathy in his bigvoice. "Would you like me to sound her out?"

"It's half your show; go ahead. She probably knows the situation and hasmade her plans for the squeeze or double-cross, but you might try herout, " consented Mr. Vandeford, with a shrewd glance at Mr. Farraday. "But I wish you wouldn't, Denny, " he added, with a sudden glow ofaffection in his eyes. Then he was restrained from further remonstrancewith Mr. Farraday by the thought of the author of "The Purple Slipper"and her plucky sticking by the play through the thick and thin of herdisapproval of it. Again he offered up his big Jonathan as a sacrificein hopes of improving the prospects of "The Purple Slipper. "

Mr. Farraday took Miss Hawtry into his confidence about the predicamentof finding a New York theater for his play, "The Purple Slipper, " thatvery evening, out on the veranda of the Beach Inn, where he had motoredher by request for dinner after her fatiguing rehearsals, which she hadmade still more fatiguing for Mr. William Rooney. 

"And Van sent you to ask me if I was going to stick by?" she asked, withan effective quaver in her voice. 

"He felt that we had no right to--to tie you up for indefinite weeks, "said Mr. Farraday, constructing and temporizing at the same time. 

"Did you think as little of me as he did?"

"No, by George, I knew you'd stick by us, and I said so!" Mr. Farradayexploded with genuine emotion. 

"Thank you. You know me after these few weeks better than he does afterall these years of--" And the Violet bent her head on Mr. Farraday'snearest arm and began to weep softly. They were in a secluded corner ofthe veranda of the Inn, and the Violet raged at herself for havingclosed the complete seclusion of Highcliff for herself and her purposesby renting it to the Trevors when she had gone to town to the rehearsalsof "The Purple Slipper. "

And as good Dennis Farraday had no valid reason, either within orwithout the law for not doing so, he put consoling and comforting armsabout her, and exposed his wide, silk-garbed shoulder to the rain of hertears, which were not really raining. In his big heart there was thesame comforting for this conspirator as there would have been for Mr. Vandeford's lawful widow, and he administered it with the sameaffectionate respect that he would have used to the relict. 

"You're a dear, wonderful little woman!" he was saying, when the voiceof the Clyde Trevors was heard calling to them from around the veranda, and an oath rose in the Violet with such force that she almost allowedit to explode. Still she felt sure of her ultimate results. 

"You can count on me to stand by you and the play forever, " shepromised, and the hurried pressure of their lips in the soft, dark, sea-perfumed air was biologically inevitable. 

Mr. Godfrey Vandeford had woven a tangled web when he had let fall thepurple letter on the purple manuscript and gone out recklessly to followthe hunch their juxtaposition implied. 

CHAPTER VII

The first two weeks of September spent in torrid New York were a strangeperiod of time to have projected itself into the calm life of MissPatricia Adair of Adairville, Kentucky. Suddenly she found herself a cogscrewed tight into a rapid-fire piece of machinery that was running attop speed night and day, by name, "The Purple Slipper. "

For long hours she sat in the coolness of that stage-box and held herbreath while she threw her whole self into the building of the play, which so fascinatingly was and was not hers. And through all thosehours, close at her side, between her and the big dim theater, sat Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, with his arm across the back of her chair and hiseager face close to hers and tilted at the same angle. Her slightestmurmur or his lowest whisper caught and was answered, and they almostseemed to be breathing one breath, so absorbed were they in the destinyof their mutual adventure. Like all women of her kind, Patricia Adairhad known men only through a cloud, which sex traditions had firmly heldbetween her and them, and Godfrey Vandeford was the first man she hadencountered since she had slipped outside of its deadening density intoa world where men and women endeavored together first, and left theirsentinel undertakings to a fitting secondary time and place. In allsincerity she accepted him as a co-worker and was as happy working withhim as it was possible for a woman to be. She specially liked beingbeside him in the office, and watched him settle the details of therunning the big machine smoothly, from the hiring of the property-man tothe firing of three successive stage-carpenters. 

"Real eats, Mr. Vandeford?" the former had inquired one morning. 

"Brown-bread turkey, nice and tasty, good crackers, but soda-pop and soforth for booze. Remember, they've got to face it, we hope, many weeks;don't turn their stomachs so they'll all gag. "

"I see, sir, I see. I fed 'Maple Leaves' for two years, and they all etevery night and gimme a purse when it closed to go to London. "

"Goes!"

"Brown-bread turkey sounds nice. I'm hungry, " said Miss Adair, as thegood-providing property-man departed. 

"Pop is going to bring us a piece of pie and a bottle of milk from theautomat, " answered Mr. Vandeford, as he began putting busy stabs withthe press pencil on a pile of papers. "I ought to send him to get Dennyto motor you for a real feed in the cool somewhere, but I want youhere. " With perfect unconcern, he went on checking the list theproperty-man had left him. He had ceased trying to decide the meaning ofthe flutter which he was not sure Miss Adair really gave when she waspleased. He was too busy to think about anything but the rush and roarof the machinery of "The Purple Slipper, " so he just kept Miss Adair sonear him for all the waking hours of the day that he could have nooccasion to have his thoughts distracted by worrying over just whatmight be befalling her. Day after day he extracted her from the Y. W. C. A. At ten o'clock A. M. , fed her and Miss Lindsey coffee and rolls andberries just any place that they happened to see (often he even ate withthe two girls in the big empty cafeteria at the institution), lunchedwith her in the same haphazard fashion, sought a cool and quiet spot togive her dinner, and a ride on a country road, turned her into the bigsafety at about eleven o'clock, and went to bed to sleep the sleep ofthe interestedly absorbed. 

The few evenings that Miss Adair spent with Mr. Gerald Height Mr. Vandeford did not find repose so early or with such ease. Also, hisawakening on those mornings after was not so joyous, and he arrived atthe Y. W. C. A. Fifteen and twenty minutes too early upon each occasion. 

However, his time was well spent in chatting with the brisk youngsecretary, and his anxiety was entirely relieved each time by findingthe look intact in the gray eyes raised to his in eager greeting afterthe prolonged absence of fourteen hours, when the usual separation wasabout ten. 

"We went out to a place called the Beach Inn last night, and whom do yousuppose we saw there?" she demanded on one of the mornings after, overher bowl of halved peaches. 

"Mr. And Mrs. Devil?" he asked, with a sparkle breaking through thefrown with which he had instantly greeted her mention of that gay beachresort. 

"No; Miss Hawtry and Mr. Farraday. She wasn't nice to us at all, but Mr. Height says she always treats him badly when they are rehearsingtogether. I think Mr. Height is perfectly wonderful to her on thestage. He's so gentle and kind; but then he's that in real life, isn'the?"

"Is he?" growled Mr. Vandeford over his corn-flakes. 

"Yes, and he's so just and fine in the way he speaks about everybody. Hetold me how poor Miss Hawtry used to be and how you pushed her alonguntil she could buy that lovely house we passed, in which the Trevorsare staying while she is in town. It is hard on you, too, not to be outthere boarding with them and her instead of in this heat. "

"Did Height say that I--I boarded--out there?" demanded Mr. Vandeford, pushing his coffee-cup away from him with a sudden snap. 

"Yes, he said you stayed out there in the summer always, and--"

"We're late, " interrupted Mr. Vandeford, snapping his watch with thesame temper he had used on his coffee-cup. "Bring that saucer of peachesalong and eat it in the car. "

"I'll take an orange instead, " assented Miss Adair, as with allgood-nature and in all naturalness she deserted the last half of therosy peach, took an orange from the bowl before her and stood up to goout to the car, which Valentine had parked in the shadow of the buildingopposite. 

"You kid, you!" scoffed Mr. Vandeford, with an ache in his heart, butthanksgiving for that same youthful unsophistication. "Height orsomebody will get it all across to her, and then what'll I do?" hegrowled to himself as he followed her into the car. 

"And I saw that Mazie--Mazie woman there, too, with a terrible-lookingman that has written ever so many plays that are successful. " Mr. Vandeford was devoutly thankful that Mr. Grant Howard's name had notstuck in the consciousness of the author of "The Purple Slipper. " "I--Iwas introduced to them too--because you know you said that I must--mustaccept broad standards, and I did--last night. " Miss Adair looked away, but Mr. Vandeford could see that her little ears, set close against hersmall head, with their tips covered by a smooth band of hair, grew rosy. 

"What?" he gasped, uncertain as to what she meant. 

"Talked to that--that playwright and--and drank some champagne. I likecider better, but Mr. Height ordered it, and I thought--"

Here the car stopped, and Valentine was at the door. Valentine neverfailed to be at the door instantly when Miss Adair was in Mr. Vandeford's car, because his French soul rejoiced within him for thusserving a grand dame. 

"Rooney is on the last lap of the last act, and then he'll begin topolish the whole for dress rehearsals, " Mr. Vandeford said as he heldthe curtains of their box aside for her to enter. 

"And Mr. Height told me, too, that the Trevors had--"

"Hush!" commanded Mr. Vandeford, becoming the stern producer, because hefelt that he could stand no more of Mr. Height at the Beach Inn, thoughhe began to listen intently to that same gentleman and Bébé Herne in thebeginning of the great scene of the now authorless play. The anxietiespassed from him, and in a moment he was in harness again with his authorand running in perfect unison. 

"Cut it off, Height, cut it off!" commanded Mr. Rooney, and he ran hishands into his shock of black hair, which stood up all over his headlike a black, sooty mop. "That scene needs something. It isn't big andsimple enough. What did she say to him in your first layout, miss?" hedemanded of Miss Adair, for the first time acknowledging to the companythe presence of the author of their play at the rehearsals. "Can youremember?"

"Yes, " answered Miss Adair, with the home-made color blazing in hercheeks and fires in her gray eyes as she rose in the box, and gave thesix lines as she had written them. Her lovely, slurring, Blue-grassvoice made the whole company smile with pleasure. 

"That's it! That's it! That's real people jawing and not a lot of smartyguff. Put that in, Fido, and write it in, Miss Herne, " commanded Mr. Rooney, without any form of thanks to the accommodating and forgivingauthor. 

And truth to say the author of "The Purple Slipper" did not notice hisomission. She was in such joy at having something of the "big scene"express what she had intended that she was clasping one of Mr. Vandeford's hands in both hers and holding on tight to keep fromshedding tears of joy. 

"What did I tell you?" he asked, taking the two nervously clutchedlittle hands into his warm, strong ones, unseen in the shadow of thebox. "You keep getting things across to Bill by letting him ask you forwhat he wants. See?"

"Yes, and I'm always glad when I do as you tell me, " she whispered, withher lips almost against his ear as they both turned back to the stageand watched their machine begin to run on greased wheels. Mr. Vandefordthought of the Beach Inn, Mazie, the bottle of champagne, and Mr. GeraldHeight, and groaned inwardly. 

The last week of the rehearsals of "The Purple Slipper" was a hecticrush, the like of which Miss Adair had never imagined. She had gone outagain for the week-end to Mrs. Farraday's, up in Westchester, and thistime Mr. Vandeford drove out on Sunday for tea and crape myrtle with Mr. Dennis Farraday, and, he was surprised to note again, Miss MildredLindsey. The day passed like an oasis in the midst of a desert storm, and Mr. Vandeford had the pleasure of making all arrangements for Mrs. Farraday, Mr. And Mrs. Van Tyne, and several other old Manhattaners, whohad fallen under the spell of the young Kentuckian who had in an offmoment perpetrated "The Purple Slipper, " to go to Atlantic City thefollowing week to be upon the spot for the opening of the play. Suitesin the great new hotel were engaged by long-distance telephone, time-tables discussed, and trains settled upon by the time tea was overand the golden sun had let the twilight purple the rosy plumes of thehuge myrtle hedges. In the dusk Valentine brought Mr. Vandeford's carfrom the garage and Mrs. Farraday's chauffeur drove out Mr. DennisFarraday's beloved Surreness. Miss Lindsey said her farewell, and itagain surprised Mr. Vandeford to see the gracious kiss Mrs. Farraday putupon the dusky red of the beautiful Western girl's cheek, while goodDennis stood smilingly by in the friendliest delight. Then a wistfulsigh from the talented young author by his side claimed his instantattention. 

"What is it?" he asked, with no attempt to control the tenderness in hisvoice, though the dusk hid that in his eyes. 

"I want to go back to town with you, " she answered him, with a littlecatch in her voice. "I feel so far away from you and--and IT, up here. "

"You shall, " he answered, and turned toward Mrs. Farraday, who wascoming across the grass towards them with a huge sheaf of myrtles forhis car flower-baskets in her arms. "I wonder if you'll let me take myauthor back to town in a hurry to-night, Mater Farraday, " he pleaded, with the affectionate smile in both his voice and eyes that he hadlearned to use in coaxing her since the days ten years ago when she hadbegun to mother him along with big Dennis. "I--I sorter--sorter needher. "

Mrs. Farraday looked at them both with a keenness under the affection inher glance, and then laughed merrily. 

"Yes, go with him, Patricia, " she commanded. "I have lived through theweek before the presentation of five plays for Van, and I think that itis only just that you should share that ordeal with me. He's impossible, and demands--everything. I gave him a perfectly new and wonderful hatthat cost a hundred and ten dollars for the second scene of 'DearGeraldine' right off my head at the dress rehearsal, and 'Miss Cut-up'did her dances on one of my most choice Chinese rugs. Now he's takingyou from me. But go!"

"Here's your wrap, still in the car, so hop in, " commanded Mr. Vandefordhurriedly, as though he feared that Mrs. Farraday would withdraw hersympathetic permission. "Good-night, and thank you!"

"Good-night, you two--two dear children, " returned Mrs. Farraday, as shesaw them off, after tenderly embracing Miss Adair and making plans fortheir future meeting. "How _lovely_ it would be!" she murmured toherself, with a lack of definition, as she went back to the statelyhouse behind the tree, where windows were beginning to glow. 

For a long time the producer and his author were silent. 

"I hate it--and I love it, " Miss Adair finally said, with her soft, slurring voice lowered almost to a whisper as Valentine sped them alongthe country road perfumed and dusky with the early night, though asilvery radiance proclaimed a chaperoning moon as imminent. 

"That is the proper way for an author to feel about a play one weekbefore the opening, " Mr. Vandeford assured her, with a laugh keyed tomatch her declaration. "It shows an entire sympathy with the poorproducer. "

"Suppose, just suppose, that the producer had been anybody but you and Ihad had to stand all--" Words failed Miss Adair in imaging her plight asauthor to another producer than Mr. Vandeford. 

"Any other producer might have done better than I have done for you, "Mr. Vandeford answered her, with a sadness in his voice that he himselfhad never heard before. And as he spoke he resolved to tell her thewhole Hawtry situation, which was haunting him day and night; to beginwith the purple, letter-manuscript hunch, which he had lightly taken upto spank Miss Hawtry for trying to double-cross him with Weiner about"The Rosie Posie Girl, " and end up with the hopeless state of hisfeelings about herself. Miss Adair herself stemmed the confession whichmight have altered the fate of that good machine "The Purple Slipper. "

"You've made the whole horrible experience worth while to me, and I'mgoing to be a great playwright yet, just to make you--you proud of me, "she assured his sadness in the purple dusk, and this time Mr. Vandefordwas so sure of the flutter that he reached out his hand and captured apart of it, a white, slim little hand that nestled into his as though itwere not in any way aware of doing so. "I'm going to dinner with MissHerne to-morrow night, so Mr. Kent can show me what is the matter withpart of his costume for the third act, and then I'm going to coax Mr. Corbett to fix it over for him, " she continued, speaking of the businessof learning to be the great playwright she had promised him to become. 

"Er--er, did you say dinner with Bébé and--and Kent?" Mr. Vandefordstammered as a desperate opening for letting his author know just whatshe was doing in visiting that establishment without-the-law. 

"Yes, I know about them; Mildred told me, but I told her that I wasgoing to accept the 'broad standard' that prevailed in my profession. Ilike both of those people a lot. What business is it of mine if theydon't want to get married?" Miss Adair's voice was coolly unconcernedand professional. 

"Help!" ejaculated Mr. Vandeford, holding the slim little hand as ifdrowning. And indeed he did have a sinking sensation, which, strange tosay, was relieved by a quick mental vision of the capable young woman atthe desk of the great international safety. 

"And I know about Mr. Height's three divorces, and I think he is to bepitied instead of criticized for being so unfortunate and lonely. Mildred says she doesn't believe he is as lonely as he tells me he is, but I know he is. I asked Miss Herne to ask him to dinner, too, and shedid, " Miss Adair continued, thus making little stabs into Mr. Vandeford's vitals. 

And right there Mr. Vandeford paid the entire penalty for all his tiltsagainst organized morality by feeling unworthy to take a beautiful, fragrant, adoring, confiding girl in his arms and telling her all he hadlearned of the tragic results of such tilts. His predicament was tragic, though unique. If he summed up these others, he sized up himself to her, and by what judgment he taught her to judge them she would judge himwhen the time came. If he taught her to turn from Kent or Height shewould turn from him, when she knew him entirely, as she surely wouldsoon. And, forsooth, how would he prove to her that he was a better manthan the copper-headed tango lizard, Height, though he knew himself tobe? And who was this girl, anyway, to come out of a little back-woodstown where the standards of life were so narrow that all who could livedout of them in degrading secrecy, and make him feel himself unworthywhen he had lived openly in a way about which his own conscience had nottroubled him? Why did he hesitate to tell her about his affair with theViolet and his anxiety about her contract, and why should his face burnat the thought of telling her how he had coolly let his best friend infor the prospect of an affair with the star for the purpose ofprotecting her and her play? And why should the sex and businessstandards of his world be entirely different from those of hers or anyother world! On the other hand why shouldn't they all double-cross andprey on and defame and applaud each other to their heart's content? Whyshould they care if they were judged by--? At this part Mr. Vandeford'sbitter reflections were suddenly invaded by a perceptible collapse ofMiss Adair's soft and proud young body against his, and a round, warmcheek fell against his silk-clad sleeve, as he perceived that hiseminent author had plunged suddenly into the depths of healthy andinnocent slumber, while he had been moralizing about her and the restof the universe. He slipped his arm about her with cautious tendernessand made her comfortable, while he muttered to himself:

"She's a white flame and, God willing, I'm going to keep her that!"

During the next week the "white flame" burned high and bright while theauthor of "The Purple Slipper" threw herself into her place in thegrinding of the machine that was to turn out a perfected play on thefollowing Tuesday night at Atlantic City. Everywhere Mr. Rooney wastightening bolts and polishing surfaces until they glistened while hesnapped and tried out all bands. 

Miss Lindsey was pale and quiet, but she acted her part to Mr. Rooney'sentire satisfaction, though he never said so. Mr. Leigh's feet werestill a target, and the glowering girl, Miss Grayson, was alwaystearful, but constantly improving. When the company was not being groundand polished, Mr. Corbett's tailors and dressmakers were fittingcostumes, and the property man was checking over and over each demand ofeach and every person, from the fresh rose Mr. Kent was to give to DameCarrington to the mud that was to be splashed every day upon Mr. GeraldHeight's riding-boots for his last and triumphant entry. Miss Adair hadlost all sense of the play as a whole and only thought of it asdistracting and distracted bits. She had, of course, never witnessed thescenes between Miss Hawtry and Mr. Height, as they were still rehearsedin private and would be until the night of the dress rehearsal on Mondayat Atlantic City. This was well. 

But one thing she kept with her through the whole strain; the sense ofbeing one with Mr. Godfrey Vandeford and that one working for pure joy. 

As for Mr. Vandeford, his eyes sank back under his brows, and Mr. AdolphMeyers was with him far into every night. 

"How does the booking stand now, Pops?" Mr. Vandeford demanded on theThursday night before the opening Tuesday. 

"Atlantic City next week, Wilmington and New Haven the next if need be, and--it is to Syracuse or Toronto we must jump, Mr. Vandeford, sir, "answered Mr. Meyers, with beads of perspiration on his high brow. 

"Violet will never make that jump, Pops. Her contract closes the day weopen in Atlantic City, and there we'll close, too, if we haven't NewYork right in sight. What'll we do?"

"It is many a show closed before it opened, " Mr. Meyers said, with awary look at Mr. Vandeford. 

"This show is going to open and never close--until it's had a thoroughBroadway try-out, Pops, " said Mr. Vandeford, quietly. "Anything from Mr. Breit?"

"Nothing to hope for a Broadway opening before November first. "

"I'll pass the question up Friday, and then see what I'll do, " Mr. Vandeford said slowly as if turning his back for the moment tosomething that stared him in the face. 

All Friday morning he worked with "The Purple Slipper" machine with abitter defiance in his eyes that made Miss Adair keep close to his side, though she didn't understand her reason for doing so. 

"Is anything the matter?" she questioned, with her gray eyes strickenwith alarm. The fear for her play in those gray eyes sent Mr. Vandefordinto desperate measures. He asked Miss Hawtry to go to luncheon withhim, and she graciously accepted. 

"Where do we get in on Broadway after Atlantic City, Van?" she asked assoon as she was served with her iced melon. 

"We get in all right, " he parried, putting his spoon into hiscantaloupe. 

"That's fine. I don't mind that Atlantic City week, but I'm glad I'mpast ever doing the road again except to the Coast. They'll eat up 'TheRosie Posie Girl' in Chicago and San Francisco. " Miss Hawtry wasdeliberately declaring her intentions to Mr. Vandeford without saying aword about them. 

"I'm going to take 'The Purple Slipper' over to London before I take itWest. " Mr. Vandeford answered her declaration with another not put inwords, but so well did he know the workings of her shrewd, small mindthat he saw that the game was up unless he did what he must do. Duringthe rest of their luncheon they talked about the Trevors. 

Straight from the Astor Mr. Vandeford walked into the office of Mr. Weiner. 

"Weiner, " he asked, without any sort of preamble, "will you give amonth's try-out of my play, 'The Purple Slipper, ' in your New CarnivalTheater from October first to November first, with a proper guarantee, and then an option on an unlimited run there if it makes good, for ahalf-interest in 'The Rosie Posie Girl' _without_ Hawtry?" Mr. Vandefordknew that he was offering Mr. Weiner a good thing, for the rights of"The Rosie Posie Girl" had been hotly contested by all the bigtheatrical managers on Broadway the winter before, and Mr. Vandeford hadgot them from Hilliard because of his success with "Dear Geraldine" bythe same author. They had all coveted it because it was one of thosecombinations about the success of which there could be no doubt. Inoffering Weiner a half-interest Mr. Vandeford was aware that he wasoffering him at least a hundred thousand dollars, but Mr. Vandeford'shunch about the purple on purple was beginning to cost him dear, thoughat least a hundred thousand dollars did not seem too much to pay to keepthe agony of failure out of a pair of sea-gray eyes that had trusted himthe first time they had looked into his. 

"With Hawtry it goes; without Hawtry, no, Mr. Vandeford, " was the promptanswer. 

"With Hawtry six months from now?" questioned Mr. Vandeford. 

"It is that I have a weak heart, Mr. Vandeford, and I do not trade infutures, " answered Mr. Weiner, with a spark in his black eyes. 

"You know my fix, Weiner; now what will you take for the New CarnivalOctober first for my Hawtry show?"

"I will trade that entire 'Rosie Posie Girl' manuscript, with all rightsfor that New Carnival Theater on October first, with option for theentire season, Mr. Vandeford, " said Mr. Weiner, rolling his big cigarfrom one side of his mouth to the other. 

"Without Hawtry?"

"I have a new Hawtry right now--in pickle, " Mr. Weiner answered. 

"Will the New Carnival certainly be finished October first?"

"Yes, to a certainty of a large guarantee. "

"How long will you give me to answer?" asked Mr. Vandeford. 

"I have made an appointment with S. & K. To talk that New CarnivalTheater for a show at five o'clock to-day, Mr. Vandeford. I will call itsix o'clock for you, " answered Weiner, as he turned the screw with allshow of consideration for his fellow producer. 

"I'll be back at four-forty-five, " Mr. Vandeford answered him, and withno further good-by took his departure. 

Arriving at his office, Mr. Vandeford directed Mr. Meyers that he was tohave half an hour entirely undisturbed, entered his own office, andafter a second's pause went into the little office that had beenassigned to Miss Adair, the author, and sat down in the chair she veryseldom occupied, but which was hers by tenancy. On the desk were a pairof silk gloves she had left there the day before, and in a blue vasewere several roses in a good state of preservation, which he recognizedas having come from a bunch Miss Adair had been wearing after having hadluncheon with Mr. Gerald Height on Monday. These objects disturbed Mr. Vandeford vaguely. He put them out of his mind roughly and went intoconference with himself sternly. Literally he was weighing thequestion. 

On one side of the balance he laid "The Rosie Posie Girl, " which, withHawtry, was sure to run on Broadway for at least two seasons and makefor him a fortune that was indefinitely large and sure. Beside this, itsproduction would insure him a position among the country's really greatproducers. The show was big enough in conception to admit of aspectacularly artistic treatment, which he had intended to give it sothat it would place musical comedy on a plane upon which it had neverstood before. He knew himself well enough to know that a real triumph ofthat kind once accomplished, he would want to turn to other fields ofendeavor, and he could see his greater self standing patiently waitingfor his lesser to be liberated by the process of climbing out of thevery top of the theatrical profession. 

Sternly he turned from himself to the filling of the other pan of thescales in which he was weighing the question. He looked for something toput in to over-balance the certainty of "The Rosie Posie Girl, " andfound nothing but a vast uncertainty with many potentialities. "ThePurple Slipper" was a play of no known classification, and with Hawtryin it was still less fish, flesh, fowl, or good red herring. And therewas added the uncertainty of that week from the twenty-third to thefirst during which he had no legal hold on the fair Violet. He feltreasonably sure that the announcement that "The Purple Slipper" wouldopen the big new Weiner theater, with all the clash of publicity whichhe could give to it, would hold her steady on her job, but as he laid itdown on the scales, it had to be classed as an uncertainty. The fifteenper cent. Seat sales based on Mr. Gerald Height's appearance in silktights, velvet, and lace was about the only positive he had to lay inthe scales, and that, of course, failed to tip them to any degree. Forabout fifteen minutes he sat perfectly rigid. Then he gently laid on theuncertain side of the scales the positive and concrete faith in a pairof sea-gray eyes, jeweled with tears, and watched "The Rosie PosieGirl" rise high as "The Purple Slipper" sank down heavily. 

After this he took a rose from the green vase, stuck it in hisbuttonhole, and went forth--into his own office. He there rang hisbuzzer for Mr. Meyers, and seated himself with the air of a man who hashad a burden lifted off his shoulders rather than with the air of oneabout to give away half a million dollars. 

"Pops, 'The Rosie Posie Girl' is sold, lock, stock, and barrel, toWeiner for a month's try-out of 'The Purple Slipper' at the New CarnivalTheater, good guarantee for that month, and an option on a run to thelimit for eight-thousand-a-week houses. Get Lusky over the 'phone, andyou and he have the contracts drawn as tight as wax by four-thirty. "

"But, Mr. Vandeford, sir, I must have a say that--"

"No, Pops, don't say anything. "

"With a pardon it is that I think that Miss Adair is a very fine lady, and so also 'The Purple Slipper. '" With this incoherent pronouncementof sympathy and encouragement, though devastated at the loss of "TheRosie Posie Girl, " upon which he had already spent many creative days, Mr. Meyers departed into the outer office. 

For a long minute Mr. Vandeford glared at the unoffending rose in hisbuttonhole, then smiled, ran his hands through his hair, turned to thetelephone, and plunged into the last lap of the race of "The PurpleSlipper. " Until four o'clock he was closeted with the most brillianttheatrical publicity man in New York City; then he took his contractsand went over to Weiner's office and sacrificed "The Rosie Posie Girl"to--

An hour later he had told his partner, Mr. Dennis Farraday, all aboutit, and showed him the deeds of execution. 

"You ought not to have done it, Van. It was too big a price to pay, " Mr. Farraday declared, with his mane rumpled on high. 

"No, " answered Mr. Vandeford, in happy calmness. "'The Purple Slipper'will pay it all out--one way or another. "

"It must, " declared Mr. Farraday, with helpless energy. "What can I do?"

"Oh, be the usual ray of sunshine around the place and--and keep theViolet happy and busy until we land on Broadway. " Mr. Vandeford saidthis with a coldness in tone and voice that he had to force hard. Hisattitude was that he had had to sacrifice himself so why not sacrificeMr. Farraday also? And he hated himself for that attitude. 

"I understand, and you can count on me, " answered Mr. Farraday, withsuch an innocently happy face that Mr. Vandeford groaned inwardly at thefact that he did not understand, and would surely be made to soon if hiscalculations on the intentions of Miss Hawtry were correct. 

"I've arranged for a chair-car to take the whole company down toAtlantic City Sunday morning, so the whole bunch can have a plunge and agood rest-up before the Monday dress rehearsal. " Mr. Farraday producedthat piece of business with great pride. 

"Good!" was all the commendation that he got, and he betook himself offfor other good-natured efforts on the affairs of "The Purple Slipper. "

Though at times Mr. Godfrey Vandeford approached the heroic in action, he was very human in reflexes and, having paid a price for the happinessof Miss Patricia Adair, he proceeded to partake of as much of thathappiness as he could get hold of. He captured the author of "The PurpleSlipper" after the rehearsals on Friday, which were the last before thedress rehearsal in Atlantic City on Monday night, because the cast of aplay are, after all, so many human beings, who have to be given at leasta day for such animal functions as packing trunks, closing apartments, dodging creditors, and severing home ties, and he carried her off to thecountry with the intention of having her all to himself for dinner at alittle inn up Westchester way. After they had started in that directionand were flying behind Valentine along sun-gilded country lanes, hechanged his mind, changed the road slightly, and had them landed underthe wing of Mrs. Farraday for dinner. He did this with direct intention. He judged himself, and decided that it would be safest to announce toMiss Adair that her play was to have the honor of opening the great NewCarnival Theatre on Broadway somewhere within two hundred yards of Mrs. Farraday. This program he carried out with efficient directness and thenfound a strange lacking in himself. 

"Oh, how wonderful you are!" was Miss Adair's exclamation when he hadimparted his news just as a young moon was silvering the poplar underwhich they sat on an old stone bench at the bottom of the sunken garden. "Everybody has said that you couldn't do it, but I didn't worry at alllike the rest of them. I knew that you could. "

"How did you know that I could do it?" he asked, and he rejoiced withpride that his author did not yet know of either the existence or hissacrifice of "The Rosie Posie Girl. "

"Why, I don't know--I knew just because I--I--" For the first time Mr. Vandeford was absolutely certain of the flutter towards him, and at thesame time felt certain that he was the first man who ever had beencertain of it; and just as his breast and arms were hollowing themselvesto nest it he--denied it and himself. He didn't want it at a purchaseprice, and he took Miss Adair home and locked her in the Y. W. C. A. Before midnight. 

The journey down to Atlantic City on Sunday morning was accomplishedwith much joy and hilarity. The entire cast of "The Purple Slipper"acted like boys and girls let out of school, and mischievous children atthat. Miss Adair enjoyed it all immensely, and at times she very timidlyjoined in the fun, which was centering itself upon putting Mr. Leigh ofthe uncertain feet, and Miss Grayson, the glowerer, into white ribbonbonds, which bonds were supplied from a large box of bonbons, theidentity of the donor of which she refused to reveal, though Mr. Kentdeclared he had brought her to the station in a gold limousine withdiamond wheels, and bore the name of Billy Astorbilt. 

Only Miss Hawtry held aloof, as she and her maid and various pieces ofultra luggage occupied the four seats at the end of the car. The seatnext her was kept vacant, and at various times during the several hours'run Mr. Vandeford, Mr. Height, and Miss Adair occupied it withrespectful tribute, but most of the time Mr. Farraday sat consideratelybeside her, and smiled upon the fun. Mr. William Rooney and Fido rode inthe day-coach and worked the entire way on duplicate prompt copies. 

Also Mr. Rooney and Fido were absent that evening from the dinner-partygiven by Mr. Farraday in the great new hotel to the entire cast of "ThePurple Slipper"--in honor of Miss Hawtry. They were working with thestage-carpenter, the property-man, and the electrician until a latehour, when they met the members of the dinner-party in pairs inwheel-chairs being trundled along the board-walk for sea air beforeretiring. 

"Hope the angel gave the bunch enough drink to keep 'em asleep untiltwo-thirty to-morrow, " Mr. Rooney remarked to Fido as he spat out intothe Atlantic Ocean. "I'm going to put the gaff to 'em to-morrow night, and I want to start with 'em unstrung and string 'em to suit myself. That little author is some girl, but I wonder why Vandeford wanted toshunt that white devil onto a nice boob like Farraday, and him hisfriend, too, " he further remarked as he watched the star and the angelbeing trundled by in one of the big wicker perambulators that infest theboard walk. 

In the other direction were being trundled the author and the producerof "The Purple Slipper, " and at that moment they were in the mood offellow-workmen at the machine of "The Purple Slipper. "

"Rooney sent me word that the lighting is doubtful. This rotten littletheater is hard to count on for any kind of unusual lighting, and wemust have that diffusion for the dinner scene so as to make the candleeffect seem real, " Mr. Vandeford was saying with great animation to MissAdair and with a total lack of sentiment under the same young moon thathad baffled him Friday night out in Westchester. 

"The whole thing seems a confused jumble to me, " admitted Miss Adair. "Ifeel as if I couldn't wait until to-morrow night to really see the playwith the costumes and scenery and love scenes and all in the rightplace. And yet I'm so tired I feel as if I could sleep a week. "

"I'll shake you if you go dead on me here as you did the other night inthe car, " threatened Mr. Vandeford, with a laugh, but he adjusted hisshoulder back of hers as if he considered the danger entirely real. 

"I'll certainly do it if you don't take me back where I belong, whereverit is, " threatened Miss Adair. "I hope Mildred isn't as--as tired as Iam and--and can help me. I'll go to bed with my clothes on if shedoesn't, " Miss Adair gasped between yawns, and fluttered to Mr. Vandeford with a frank intention of gaining support. 

"Back to the hotel, boy, and go a good pace. Double tip, " commanded Mr. Vandeford to their propelling Italian youth, with an alarm which puzzledhim as much as it would have puzzled many of his friends, while heaccorded his exhausted author the amount of support needed for theoccasion--and no more. 

And as Mr. Rooney had hoped, the entire cast of "The Purple Slipper"slept into the afternoon of the dress-rehearsal day in the completecollapse which the sea air induced, and they were in a good conditionfor restringing. In fact, some of them began that process for themselvesby an afternoon plunge in the ocean. 

One of those plunges had an after-effect on the fate of "The PurpleSlipper" further than keying up Mr. Gerald Height for his dressrehearsals. When he discovered, while detaining Miss Adair for a chatafter his late luncheon, that the author had never beheld the sea beforein all her inland existence, and had never been in it, he insisted onprocuring a bathing-suit and initiating her into that sport. Sheassented to the proposition with the greatest eagerness, and in lessthan half an hour she had trusted herself to the arms of Mr. GeraldHeight and the Atlantic Ocean. They were both rough in their handling, and finally she came to resent the boldness of the former as much as sheenjoyed that of the latter. With crimson in her cheeks and lightning inher eyes, she first attempted to drown them both, then waded to shore, sat down on the sand, and said things to Mr. Gerald Height, which hadthe magic effect of making him unburden himself and his lizard-likecareer to her in its entirety. 

"You see, I didn't know what a girl who--who wrote your play was likeexactly, and because I couldn't find out I have kept on trying. Now--now, by George, I know, " he said, with a boyishness coming into hismurky eyes. "Say, you know my mother was a Kentucky girl, and I guessthat is one reason I have stuck by this fool--this 'Purple Slipper. 'That and wanting to chase you down. "

"Well, now that you've 'chased me down' and found that I'm not--notthere, you'll stay by me and 'The Purple Slipper, ' won't you?" MissAdair asked, and then like two merry children they both laughed at herjumble. 

"I will, " answered Mr. Height, with the queer attachment in his heartthat a man feels for a perfectly good woman who is jolly and friendlywith him after she has allowed him to tell her just how wicked he is orthinks he is. "I thought the whole thing was a flivver, but whenVandeford got the opening of the New Carnival for it, I sat up and tooknotice. Just you watch the stuff between Hawtry and me put a line a milelong from the box office. "

"I'm wild to see you and Miss Hawtry in your scenes, and we must go todress for early dinner. The rehearsals are called for six-thirty. Thankyou for--for being my friend. " As she rose from the sand Miss Adair heldout her hand to Mr. Height, with the friendliness and confidence in hereyes that had smoothed over other rough, though not so rough, places ofthe same character in her young life. 

"That's some kid and there are lots like her. I've got to halt sooner orlater, " Mr. Height muttered to himself as he dressed for his earlydinner. "I'm going to put this fool play across for her, too. " There area few women who distill loyalty out of declined passion; but not many. They make their mark on their generation. 

The dress rehearsals of a play are varied in finish and intensity, butthe variety which Mr. William Rooney conducted was of the mostbrilliant, and he expected them to go as well as the opening night. Hemade small allowance for the strangeness of lights, scenery, andcostuming, and that allowance was only for time, not in smoothness. Ashe willed, his cast generally performed. The cast of "The PurpleSlipper" was of experienced actors, and he felt certain that they wouldmeet his expectations. At six-thirty o'clock he seated himself in themiddle seat of the sixth row center, looked around to see that theelectrician and the costumer were at hand to catch any criticism hewished to make, and in a crisp hard voice that exploded like a cannon hecalled up the curtain. 

The author was at her post in the left stage box, and bulwarked andbuttressed by the producer as usual, while Mr. Dennis Farraday, theangel, sat alone in the box opposite, with a delighted smile on hisbroad face. 

The curtain went up, and "The Purple Slipper" glided on the stage withnever a creak or a careen. The lights scintillated and glared on thewonderful costumes and scenery, and the sparkling dialogue began tounwind itself into the startling plot. For the first ten minutes theauthor glowed with such joyous excitement that the producer felt theactual radiations; then little by little he felt her begin to cool, anda chill ran up and down his own spine as Hawtry and Height held thestage alone in the first dash of Howard-"pepped" dalliance near the lastof the first act. He held his breath, frozen within him, until thecurtain went down, and then he refused to turn to the author at hisside. He was in a panic and undecided what to do until Mr. Rooneyrelieved him of the need of action. 

"Mr. Vandeford, " he commanded from the middle of the theater, "get NewYork on the wire and have Lindenberg start a good scenery man out on theearly morning train. That back-drop must have a toning wash: it jumpsout at the costumes. Lindenberg is in his office until seven to get amessage from you. It's ten to now. You gotter jump. "

Without a look at Miss Adair, Mr. Vandeford "jumped, " and thus she wasleft alone to watch the second act grind along to its climax, withHawtry acting the high-bred virago with an extremity of brilliantsensuality, with Mr. Height supporting her in broad lines that could bewell-read between. Once the author looked at Mr. Dennis Farraday in thebox opposite, and then looked away from his blazing enjoyment of thestartling climax, which the lovers acted in such beauty of body, andsuch beauty of execution that, without knowing why, she was thrilledfrom her head to her feet. 

"Broad standards, " she whispered to encourage herself, as her eyes shoneand her cheeks glowed as she lowered her head and re-read the proof ofthe program to be used on Tuesday night, which Mr. Vandeford had givenher and upon which she observed the name Patricia Adair in type onlyslightly smaller than that of Violet Hawtry. In a few minutes thecurtain was again called up; Mr. Vandeford was still absent, and againher attention was riveted to the stage. 

Almost the entire first half of the last act was hers, and the tensionin her glowing young body had relaxed and she gave Mr. Vandeford asemblance of a smile as he seated himself beside her just before Hawtrycame on the scene to lay with Height the foundation of the great dinnerscene. This hurdle was held firmly in front of the young author. 

Miss Hawtry entered in a blaze of eighteenth century glory, only withher authentic costume cunningly contrived to reveal more of herwonderful white body than any woman of that period would have done, andbeautiful in his velvet and ruffles, Gerald Height followed her tothereupon enact a scene which was a slow and marvellous distilling ofthe very wine of emotion intended to go through human blood like astinging poison. It had reached its climax, and even the emptiness ofthe theater was breathless when, like a whip, Mr. Rooney's cold voicebrought Miss Hawtry out of Mr. Height's arms. 

"Cut it, cut it!" he commanded. "You couldn't get that across even onBroadway. The censor will close the show. Play it fifty per cent. Andthen all the subway will quit you. "

"I'll play it as I choose, you black monkey, you, with your Irish name. "Maggie Murphy sprang out from the body of the beautiful Hawtry to answerback gutter with gutter. 

"Wait a minute, Miss Hawtry. " Mr. Vandeford rose in his box from besidethe author of the violent scene that was becoming a basis of a scene ofviolence. "Rooney, it can be played with--"

"You sit down and help your bread-and-butter baby hide her face forwriting such rot instead of trying to tell me how to act. " Maggie wasnow commanding the Violet, and she was wild with nervous rage. "She'swelcome to you; five years of your living off me and my work is enough, and I don't intend to--"

"Back to your lines on which Miss Hawtry enters, Miss Lindsey, "commanded Mr. Rooney, in his machine-gun manner. "Get ready for yourcue, Height. "

Completely ignoring Miss Hawtry, who was standing down center, MildredLindsey calmly entered and began the beautiful little bit of persiflagewith Miss Herne, who had gone on before her with an agility unlike herusual slow gait. There was nothing for Miss Hawtry to do but retire tothe wings, which she did, and with the nervous bomb exploded, shecontinued the rehearsals to a finish with the greatest brilliancy, playing the interrupted scene at fifty per cent. Of its fire, asdirected by Mr. Rooney. 

But the author of "The Purple Slipper" was not there to see the endingin calm after the storm, for she had fled at the Violet's attack uponMr. Vandeford, and while he stood his ground to see the matter settledin the face of the insult, she had vanished. 

CHAPTER VIII

At twelve-thirty Mr. Rooney was still in the theater with hisproperty-man and his electrician, but just before one he left throughthe stage-door. 

"All over, old man, you can put out your lights, lock up, and beat it, "he said to the old gentleman who had sat year after year and kept thegates of his Inferno. 

"Star still in her dressing-room, gent with her, " the old keeperanswered, as he leered at Mr. Rooney, and accepted the big black cigaroffered him. 

"Big, red-headed chap with the show?" Mr. Rooney questioned carelessly. 

"Same, " admitted the old keeper. 

"Cuss her, " Mr. Rooney remarked, without either special interest ormalice, and took his leisurely way to his hotel. 

The star dressing-room at the little Atlantic City theater, in whichhalf the plays produced on Broadway first try out their charm, is largerthan the dressing-rooms in most of the modern theaters, and daintySusette always made any dressing-room which happened to serve MissHawtry look more like a boudoir than seemed possible, by taking thoughtto have silky rose curtains to adjust over costume-racks and windows, with covers to match to be slipped over the couple of rough chairsusually supplied dressing-rooms. A fillet covering large enough for anydressing-table, the silver and ivory of the make-up outfit, and lightsshaded with the fillet over rose were about all the equipment that theFrench girl carried in the top of one of Miss Hawtry's costume trunks, but she managed an effect with them that many a Fifth Avenue decoratormight envy. Following instructions, she had put all in exquisite orderand left the theater before Miss Hawtry was off the stage. The Violethad been obliged to send her summons to Mr. Dennis Farraday by the olddoor-keeper; hence his knowledge of her manoeuvers. 

Miss Hawtry was still encased in the magnificence of the costume for thefinal scene of "The Purple Slipper, " and in the rose light of the littledressing-room she glowed like a fire-hearted opal as Mr. Dennis Farradayentered with the great hesitation of a first appearance in a stagedressing-room. His face was pale and serious. Miss Hawtry had seen thather Maggie Murphy insult to Mr. Vandeford had apparently cut more deeplyinto the big Jonathan than into Mr. Vandeford himself, and she hadrealized that she must set her scene well and act quickly and withdaring if she accomplished her purposes. 

"Forgive me--and comfort me. I have hurt myself more than I have hurthim, " she cried out as she turned to him and expelled two sparklingtears from her great blue eyes, and held out bare, white, glorious armsto him, with the sob of a repentant child caught in her throat. 

Now, Mr. Dennis Farraday, great gentleman and the son of a line ofgentlemen, was in the same state that many another good man and truewould be in after witnessing "The Purple Slipper" as played by MissHawtry in her compelling animality, and his angry eyes suddenly blazedwith another light than anger, as with a hard breath he admitted thebig, beautiful, treacherous cat into his arms and allowed her bare armsto coil around his neck and her body to cling to his. 

"How could you--how can you?" he asked, and the question on his lipsmade them cold, and kept them from hers--long enough. 

Mr. Vandeford stood in the dressing-room door without so much as rappingfor permission to enter, and his face was dead white while his eyesblazed in a great terror. He seemed not to notice the purport of thescene he had interrupted, but his voice cut into the situation like coldsteel. 

"Denny, we can't find Miss Adair anywhere, and here's a note she leftMiss Lindsey. What do you make of it?" He handed Mr. Farraday a sheet ofhotel note-paper, which he took with a trembling hand while Miss Hawtryshrank back against her lace-covered dressing-table and gathered herforces to annihilate Mr. Vandeford. This was the note, which Mr. Farraday read with one glance, but failed to read to Miss Hawtry, because its few lines struck all consciousness of her existence entirelyfrom his mind. 

 _Dear Mildred_:

 Dishonor has never smirched the name of Adair until I put it on that theater program. I have branded the annals of my family, and I never want to look into a human face again. Good-by. You've been good to me. 

 PATRICIA. 

"My God! What do you suppose she means?" Mr. Farraday gasped, as helooked in abject terror at Mr. Vandeford, who returned his glance inkind. 

"And I promised Roger to take care of her, " Mr. Farraday gasped, andwithout so much as a glance at Miss Hawtry, both men departed with allthe rapidity possible. There must be some reason that all bondswithout-the-law are so brittle, and those of friendship and honor andlove so strong within the code. 

Miss Hawtry did some rapid thinking, as unaided, she slipped from thecostume of the star of "The Purple Slipper" into her normal raiment andcharacter. Then she called a wheel-chair and had herself trundled to thehotel. While she was propelled, many other wheels were turning andturning fast. 

"What does Miss Lindsey think is the matter, and where she is?" Mr. Farraday questioned Mr. Vandeford as they strode along together down theboard-walk towards the hotel. 

"She says it's that rotten scene between Hawtry and Height that's killedher, and she is right. I felt her die right there by my side, " Mr. Vandeford answered. 

"You two don't think she would really put an end to--to herself about aplay, do you?" demanded Mr. Farraday, and he fairly staggered as heasked the question. Then not waiting for an answer, he began to runtoward the entrance of the hotel half a block ahead. Just as he wasturning into the doors with Mr. Vandeford closely following, an Italianwheel-chair boy darted out of the dusk of his stand, and plucked thelatter by the sleeve; then together they went racing back the way Mr. Vandeford had come. 

Half way down the long arbor, dusky under its vines, Mr. Farraday metMiss Lindsey, and in the subdued light they paused and looked into eachother's faces; then entirely to the surprise of them both, they wentinto each other's arms and clung together like two frightened children. Miss Lindsey was smothering sobs which made her tender breast stormagainst Mr. Farraday's, in whose own a heart was racing with terror. 

"I don't blame her; it was loathsome, and it was about her owngrandmother, " Miss Lindsey managed to say in a fierce, beautiful voice. 

"You don't think, do you, that--" Mr. Farraday was gasping as he heldMiss Lindsey still tighter against the racing heart, which was beginningto slow down and pound against hers with a slightly different speed. However, the terror in his voice made Miss Lindsey press him to her withsustaining closeness. 

"She's Southern and different, and I don't know what to think, " she wassaying, and in the absorption of their terror they failed to notice thatMiss Hawtry passed them not six feet away in her wicker chair. 

And while they clung to each other and enjoyed their fright and anxietytogether, Miss Hawtry went into the telephone-booth and got along-distance connection with Mr. Weiner in New York in an incrediblyshort time. Their conversation was almost as incredibly short in view ofits portentousness, but while it lasted, Mr. Gerald Height and Mr. William Rooney had been added to the group of anxiety under the arbor, and they were all in close conclave, though not in embrace, when MissHawtry returned to them, walking with cool determination in every step. 

"Mr. Farraday, " Miss Hawtry said, with a serenity in her rich voice andmanner, "I will have to tell you as Mr. Vandeford's partner in 'ThePurple Slipper' that I am entirely dissatisfied with the way the playproves up at dress rehearsal and refuse to open in it. As I am under nocontract to him since Saturday night, I am motoring back to New Yorkto-night to begin rehearsals to-morrow in 'The Rosie Posie Girl' for Mr. Weiner. Good-night!" With a stately curtsy to the assembled principalsof "The Purple Slipper, " very dramatic in execution, the Violet bowedherself away from them forever. Ten minutes after she was on her wayback to Manhattan in a big touring-car provided by the hotel managementper a telephone order from Mr. Weiner of New York. 

"And Van sold 'The Rosie Posie Girl, ' for her opening on Broadway in theNew Carnival Theater with 'The Purple Slipper, '" Mr. Farraday gasped ashe sat down suddenly on one of the benches in the dim little arbor. 

"Lord, what a lose, both shows and maybe--maybe Miss Adair, too, " Mr. Gerald Height exclaimed, and there were both sympathy and anxiety in hisvoice. 

"Oh, I don't know, " said Mr. Rooney, as he rolled his fat cigar from theleft of his mouth to the right and spat into the vines. "I've made apretty good play out of 'The Purple Slipper. ' It will go all rightwithout her. Actors aren't so much. It's the situation and thestage-managing. "

"That's what you think, " jeered Mr. Gerald Height, gloomily. "I alwayshad a hunch that I would never play wig and ruffles. "

"Can that hunch, " commanded Mr. Rooney. "I'm going to put Miss Lindseyin the part and play it refined for a winner. Been understudying MissHawtry, haven't you, Miss Lindsey?"

"Yes, " answered Miss Lindsey, and a sudden radiance shone from her dark, intellectual face that lit up the whole arbor and lighted a flame in thecreative hearts of both Mr. Gerald Height and Mr. William Rooney. Andwhat it lighted in the hearts of both of those gentlemen was nothing tothe blaze it fanned in the heart of Mr. Dennis Farraday, where it hadbeen smouldering along from a spark touched off the day of the beefsteakand mushrooms. "If you'll help me play it as I have seen it all along, Mr. Rooney, I can go on to-morrow night. "

"Good, " agreed Mr. Rooney. "I'll shove Miss Grayson up into your part, and cut out hers until we get a girl. We'll get the little author busyright now, blotting out the Hawtry smell and putting you in, as I say, refined and--"

"Oh, but where _is_ she?" moaned Mr. Farraday, coming back to his agonyof uneasiness, which had been drugged by hearing and seeing "The PurpleSlipper" and Mr. Vandeford's fortunes rescued and reconstructed rightbefore his ears and eyes. 

"There ain't but two places for a refined lady to run in AtlanticCity, --the railroad station and the ocean, --and I bet Mr. Vandeford islugging her from the railroad station right now, " Mr. Rooney said witheasy conviction. "Course she'd dodge back to the Christian ladies homethe first mud-puddle she stepped into, but we'll set her on her feet andrub the splashes off her white stockings and--"

Mr. Rooney was interrupted in his kindly flow of reassurance by theappearance of a wheel-chair propelled by the shrewd Italian youth, whohad that evening made his individual fortune, in which sat Mr. Vandefordand the author of "The Purple Slipper. " Without command, he stoppedbeside the group of friends, and Mr. Vandeford alighted, but Miss Adairshrank back into the shadow of the perambulator. 

"Oh, darling, listen, " cried Miss Lindsey, as she reached into thatretreat and drew Miss Adair into her arms. "Miss Hawtry has thrown upthe part and gone back to New York, and I am going to act it for youjust as you and I have talked about it all this time. Mr. Rooney isgoing to help us, and we--we are going to make good for you--and Mr. Vandeford--to-morrow night. We are!"

"Just watch us, Miss Adair. I'll do my best, and I'll--I'll be like wetalked the other day, " Mr. Height said as he came to the other side ofthe wicker retreat of the hunted author. Something in his voice made Mr. Dennis Farraday put his arm around the lizard's shoulders, a thing hewould not have thought of doing a week ago. 

"We are all going to stand by, little girl, and it'll be some play thatwe produce at the New Carnival October first, " Mr. Farraday put in byway of his contribution to the wounded young author. 

However, it was the crack of Mr. Rooney's whip that brought her to herfeet again. 

"Miss Adair, you and Lindsey come back with me to the theater now, " hecommanded the shrinking and tragic author. "Somebody get Fido and tellhim to wake up everybody and have 'em all at the theater to rehearse ina hour; that'll be three o'clock. Mr. Vandeford, you'd better get in apress story over long distance before Hawtry beats you to it. You maycatch a morning paper or two. Now, everybody get out and work like funand we'll show Broadway a sure-fire hit October first. "

"Can you do it, Bill?" Mr. Vandeford asked in a quiet voice. It was thefirst time he had spoken since he had coolly and silently picked MissAdair up off a bench in the little railroad station and put her into thesympathetic young Dago's one-man-power conveyance. 

"I can take ten yards of calico, a pot of red wagon paint, and a prettygal and make a show to fill any theater on Broadway for six months--ifI'm let alone, " answered Mr. Rooney, with the assurance that movesmountains. "That Lindsey is one good actor with common horse-sense, andthe little author filly has Blue-grass speed. Watch us!"

"Goes!" answered Mr. Vandeford, and steel sparks struck out in his keeneyes as he turned and went rapidly to one of the long-distance telephonebooths with which all Atlantic City keeps up its intimate relations withNew York. It was also astonishing how quickly he got his connection witha great New York morning paper and was put on the desk wire of one ofthe junior editors, who was a good friend in need. 

 . . . . . . 

"Hello, Curt. Godfrey Vandeford speaking. "

 . . . . . . 

"With my show in Atlantic City. Can you get a note across in the morningissue?"

 . . . . . . 

"Good! Spread it that Hawtry is put out of 'The Purple Slipper' cast togive place to a new Pacific Coast star, Mildred Lindsey. Hawtry handedit to Denny and me rotten, but put that under pretty deep, with Lindseyblazed in top lines. I'll have my publicity man send you a specialLindsey Sunday story. Hot stuff. "

 . . . . . . 

"Thanks, old man! By!"

 * * * * *

Another fifteen minutes was spent in long distance communication withMr. Meyers, and it was ten minutes after three o'clock in the morningwhen Mr. Vandeford slipped into his chair beside his author in thelittle Atlantic City Theater, which Mr. Rooney had induced the old nightwatchman door-keeper to open up at the hour when all teeming AtlanticCity is in the depths of repose. Mr. Rooney had with him the entire castof "The Purple Slipper, " to whom he had just finished explaining thecause of their extraction from their well-earned repose. 

"Most of the Sister Harriet scenes are with me, " Miss Bébé Herne wassaying, with efficient energy fairly radiating from her big body, clothed in a decorous tailor skirt, but with a boudoir jacket servingfor blouse. Also two kid curlers showed at the nape of her neck. "I canfeed Miss Grayson into Miss Lindsey's part enough to get byto-morrow--to-night I mean. And Wallace can do the same when he's onwith her. That ugly white cat Hawtry to double on Godfrey Vandefordafter he pulled her out of Weehawken!"

"Get on, get on, everybody, and use your brains until they lather, "commanded Mr. Rooney as he took his stand beside the left stage box. "Now, Miss, you gimme lines out of your head or your first draft when Icall for 'em, and I'll take 'em or leave 'em as suits me. Then yousmooth the ones I hand you into good talk, and we'll have a show hereby sun-up that you'll be proud to invite your Christian lady friends toattend. And we'll keep all the 'pep' too, Vandeford, that you paidHoward to write into it, only we'll take the Hawtry dirt out of it. On, Betty Carrington, and the curtain's up. "

Then from three o'clock in the morning until almost noon the machineryof "The Purple Slipper" was overhauled and adjusted to the new cog. Mr. Rooney lashed and rubbed and polished and oiled with never a let-up onanybody, and beside him sat the author, with her head up and the bit inher mouth. For every line that rang untrue in the reconstruction she hada true one or she took a crude bit from Mr. Rooney and polished it intoplace. Fido sat crouched in a front seat and transcribed every word intohis prompt copy so as to be a veritable first aid. 

And Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, experienced show man that he was, felt as ifhe was witnessing a miracle as he beheld Miss Adair's original "PurpleSlipper, " with its haphazard amateur charm, again put forth bud andbloom on the branches of Grant Howard's tight-knit, well-constructed, and well-rounded drama. The highly-colored flowers of Hawtry personalityMr. Rooney pruned away and constructed others for Lindsey, and MissAdair lent them color and perfume in passing them to the new star, whowas working steadily, slowly, surely, and with great power. 

"Don't tell him that his eyes 'burn into yours until your soul isseared. ' That's old. We got to get a kind of smile here where Hawtrylooked like she was going to do the ham sandwich act to Height and hissilk tights. " Mr. Rooney stopped the abhorred scene, being acted alongabout six o'clock in the morning, to demand that it be played in theproper key, up to which he had succeeded in wringing lines from MissAdair for the first act and most of the second. "What do hearts do toeach other that's hot and decent and funny all at once?" Mr. Rooneyfired this biological question to the author of "The Purple Slipper, "and looked at her with a demand for an immediate answer in his little, black, driving eyes. 

"She can say 'There's chaff in my heart; guard the fire in yours, '" MissAdair supplied offhand. 

"That hands it to him, and a good double meaning, too, " Mr. Rooneyapproved. "Go ahead, Height, but don't get this lady mixed with theother kind. Remember, she lives at the ladies Christian home. " The laughthat greeted this sally was an uproar that added to the dash and quickfire of the big scene, which Miss Adair and Mr. Rooney had so quicklyexpurgated and reconstructed between them. 

At seven o'clock the play had been entirely run through, and Fido hadthe result in his prompt copy and was beginning to rapidly write it intotheir lines for each of the cast. 

"One half hour to get breakfast and Miss Herne's back hair down, " Mr. Rooney said, with the callousness of a slave-driver. "Then if you runthrough again fairly well we'll be done by noon, and everybody can hitthe hay for six hours. "

Mr. Vandeford watched his author's proud little head droop on the boxrail in front of her, and with his face very white he motioned Mr. Farraday to come to her. After his degrading the night before at thehands of Miss Hawtry, he felt that he would be unable to endure the painof the repulsion he felt sure he would find in her eyes if she everlooked at him again. 

But his summons of Mr. Farraday failed in peremptoriness, for that big, bonny gentleman nodded to him, then stood in the wing to catch MissLindsey in his arms and bear her away to immediate nourishment. In theexcitement of the last few hours a domesticity had grown up between Mr. Farraday and Miss Lindsey that it would have taken months to build in aworld less hectic than that in which they were then living. 

Their courtship had been brief, and consisted in one question, asked byMr. Farraday while Miss Lindsey stood in the wings waiting for amoderated, impassioned cue from Mr. Height, and answered by her as sheresponded to him and the call of her stage lover at the same moment. 

"When will you marry me?"

"When 'The Purple Slipper' goes on Broadway. "

In the circumstances it was natural that Mr. Dennis Farraday should takeMiss Lindsey for a reminiscent beefsteak and mushrooms during the onlyfree half hour she would have for either him or food in the ensuing day, and to fail to heed Mr. Vandeford's summon. 

Thus deserted, Mr. Vandeford was about to steal forth and appeal to somemember of the cast of "The Purple Slipper" to come to his rescue inproviding refreshment to restore the author during the precious halfhour respite when "the chaff in his heart" caught fire and began to burnaway forever. Miss Adair raised her eyes to his, with the faith stillin their wounded depths, and smiled a wan little smile. 

"Please get me a glass of milk with an egg in it, and some of thatbrown-bread turkey, " she demanded. "I'm dead, but I'll come alive againif I go to sleep a minute. Shake me when you get back with it, but getsomething for yourself while you are gone. "

"The kiddie, the precious, spunky kiddie, " Mr. Vandeford said in hisheart over and over as he and the young Italian rushed to the hotel andback with a waiter and a tray of the desired refreshment, to which hadbeen added an iced melon and a couple of bedewed roses. 

The shaking had to be literally administered while young Dago Italianaheld the tray, and then had to be repeated several times by Mr. Vandeford, as he almost as literally fed his exhausted author, up untilthe very minute in which Mr. Rooney rang up the curtain and again calledher into action. 

Five hours was more than enough for the smooth running of the three-hour"Purple Slipper" show, and at eleven o'clock Mr. Rooney dismissed hisjaded cast with this strict command delivered in his rich, deep voice, which held a note of genuine solemnity. 

"All of you go to sleep every minute between now and night, and thencome back here and make good--for all of us. "

With the assistance of young Dago Italiana, Mr. Vandeford delivered MissAdair to a hotel maid, who accepted five dollars from him as a fee forputting her to bed, and then he plunged into still greaterstrenuosities. 

He sat for three hours with his skilled young publicity man andadvance-agent, and laid out a discreet, dignified, but very interesting, publicity campaign for the new star of "The Purple Slipper. " Dueimportance was to be given in all the notices that "The Purple Slipper"was to open the New Carnival Theater and in his heart the youngadvertiser put away the intention of making the fact that Mr. Vandefordhad sold Hawtry and "The Rosie Posie Girl" for "The Purple Slipper, " hismost brilliant reserve story to set all of Broadway, at least, agog forthe opening of the expensive new play. 

"It puts 'The Purple Slipper' at the big end of the horn, and it's notyour fault that there is only the little end of the horn left for 'TheRosie Posie Girl' for the time being, " he explained to Mr. Vandeford. "You see, it is a kind of double-cross that acts both ways. If it goes, people will think it was worth your paying a big price for, and if itfails, they'll think the 'Rosie Posie Girl' couldn't have been much ifyou traded a chance on such a poor show for it. "

"Goes!" said Mr. Vandeford, but he was aware that the smart manoeuver, which would once have delighted his soul, made him intensely weary. 

In fact, so fatigued did he feel when he left this young press schemer, that he dropped into his bed for an hour, and had a masseur come andpound him into condition to go to the train with good Dennis Farraday tomeet Mrs. Farraday, Mrs. And Mr. And Miss Van Tyne, who arrived at fiveo'clock from big Manhattan. Mr. Farraday had had a like operationperformed upon himself, and was in such a radiant condition that Mr. Vandeford felt badly eclipsed beside him. 

"What does it all mean about Miss Hawtry and Miss Lindsey and the show, Van?" Mrs. Farraday questioned, with greater anxiety in her face thanshe had had at any other opening night of her favorite's successfulshows. "Are we going to have a terrible time?"

"I'm going to put you in a wheel-chair and let Denny take you up to thenorth end of the board-walk and tell you all about it while I locate andmake comfortable the rest of the folks, " Mr. Vandeford answered with adeep relief at her presence in his eyes. 

"Where are my girls?" she questioned. 

"Both dead--asleep, " he answered, as if deeply happy to be able to sayit of his star and his author. 

His statement was only partly true, for while Miss Adair slept the sleepof the emotionally unanxious, Mildred Lindsey sat crouched by herwindow, with her eyes looking far out over the Atlantic Ocean, waitingfor the result of Mr. Dennis Farraday's talk with his mother at thenorth end of the board-walk. 

There are occasionally mothers who bear sons who can tell them all aboutthings, and Mrs. Farraday really enjoyed the whole story that big, bonnie Dennis poured out to her at the sunset hour by the brink of oldocean, Dago Italiana squatting on his heels out of hearing and baskingin inactivity, from the moment of the beefsteak episode in his and MissLindsey's acquaintance up to the moment in which Miss Hawtry hadestablished herself in his arms on the occasion of his début in a stagedressing-room. And even at that stage of the narration she ratherastonished Mr. Farraday, who was shamefaced enough at the telling, bysaying with soft pity in her motherly voice:

"The poor woman. Of course she couldn't help loving you, and now she'slost both Van and you. Now go on and tell me about Mildred. "

"She--she's the best ever, " was Mr. Farraday's explicit and enlighteninganswer. 

"Of course she is. I saw that the time you brought her to dinner withme, and also that you were in love with her. She's really a ratherwonderful girl, and--and--Dennis, I'll tell you something that I neverexpected to tell you--I've always wanted to be an actress. I simplyadore that Lindsey girl, and I know she'll make a great actress. Why onearth should she want to marry you?" Which goes to show thataristocratic Mrs. Farraday was not the ordinary mother. 

"Let's go ask her, " roared big Dennis, as he embraced her in a way thatmade the sympathetic and now wealthy young Dago Italiana flash his whiteteeth in joy. 

And nobody can say how much the fate of "The Purple Slipper" wasaffected by the fact that Rosalind went upon the stage for her firstappearance as a star, straight from the tender arms of stately, white-haired Mrs. Farraday. 

The opening night of "The Purple Slipper, " by Patricia Adair, producedby Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, and staged by Mr. William Rooney, was atriumph undisputed and acknowledged by a brilliant cosmopolitan audiencesuch as Atlantic City furnishes any play presented to it beforeSeptember the twenty-fifth, for up until that week on the board-walk ofthat resort East meets West and the South joins them. The eminent authorsat in the left stage box with Mrs. Justus Farraday of New York and Mr. And Mrs. Derick Van Tyne, and at her side was a chair into which attimes dropped Mr. Dennis Farraday, but which had been reserved for theproducer. Things had gone brilliantly from the start, from the momentthe curtain went up with polished, interesting Miss Herne manoeuveringthe frightened and substituted Betty Carrington through the openingdialogue. A veritable gasp of joy had greeted the beautiful Mr. GeraldHeight as he entered in his colonial wig, ruffles, and velvet, and hisbig eyes under their bowed brows sought out the author and smiled at herwith a genuine pledge of loyalty which no lizard could ever have givenforth as he glided richly into his archaic banter with Miss Herne. 

"He'll get 'em going, get 'em going the whole dame bunch from Harlem tothe Battery, " muttered Mr. Rooney to Fido, who stood in the wings, withhis eyes glued to the much annotated prompt copy. "Now watch out forLindsey; she's doing forty sides of new stuff in twenty hours. Me forthe stock company to train 'em young. Let her rip, Rosalind!" And with anod Mr. Rooney sent his "bet" out upon the stage to make the audienceforget that they had paid their money to see Violet Hawtry and make themglad to have paid it to see her. 

As Mildred Lindsey stepped out on the stage in all the glory of analmost unbelievable beauty, Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, who sat with hisshoulder back of that of the author of his play, seemed to behold avision with his trained theatrical foresight. This slender, powerfulyoung woman, with the rose dusk of the prairie sun on her cheeks, thedepths of the great cañons in her dark eyes, and the breadth of the farhorizons across her broad brow seemed to him to typify the rise of orderin her profession, over which so long had ruled chaos. And as her richvoice led the intrigued audience from one brilliant scene to another, inwhich she reincarnated before their eyes a very flower of the oldSouthern chivalry with dash, finish, and lucidity, he felt as if he haddone his best and now had a right to be allowed to depart in peace fromthe world of tinsel and illusion. As Lindsey and Height held theaudience spell-bound while the tempted wife dueled with her mightagainst the tender and desperate lover, placing, with a combined artthat was as great as any he had ever witnessed, the "big scene" of "ThePurple Slipper" among the "big scenes" of the modern stage instead of inthe class of lascivious masterpieces where the night before Hawtry hadlaid it, Mr. Vandeford looked down into the gray eyes of the girl whohad had it all in her blood for generations, and who had so brilliantlygiven it birth, and felt a prophecy rise within him that soon theAmerican drama would begin to draw on the wealth of tradition which hadbeen piling up in a vast storage for it, and that when it did, dramatists and actors, men and women, would rise to interpret it to awondering world. 

"Is it really mine?" she asked him, in proud surprise and wonder. 

"Yes, it's yours--filtered through Howard and Rooney and all the rest, but--it--is--you, " he answered. "You lost it a dozen times, but--hisown comes back to a man or a woman. "

His eyes blazed so that the long lashes lowered over the stars in hers, and she saw the curtain fall on the last scene in a mist of tears. Theonrush of applause that raised the curtain half a dozen times wasconfused in her by the pounding of Mr. Vandeford's heart back of hershoulder and the echo in her own. 

"Fifty weeks and then some, Van, " she heard the young press-agentdeclare, in business-like congratulation. 

"Sure-fire hit, " Mr. Rooney pronounced, as he spat on the stage floorbehind the curtain. "Rehearsals at ten to-morrow to tighten up, Fido. Mefor the hay. " Miss Adair had gone back of the footlights to cast hergratitude into his arms, and he had failed to notice her appearance inany way at all, but had spat and gone on his autocratic way. Perhaps inthe New World of the Theater, stage-managers may be able to afford to behuman, perhaps not. 

Mr. Vandeford's supper-party to the cast of "The Purple Slipper" and thefriends from New York who had come down to see its try-out, lasted untiltwo o'clock in the morning, but when it was over neither the moon, whichwas as full that night as Mr. Kent had become by coffee and cigars, norDago Italiana had retired, and both stayed on their jobs out at thesouth end of the board walk, where boards melt off into sand and oceanand sky. 

Mr. Godfrey Vandeford had got about two thirds of the way along thepainful stretch of autobiography, with which he was inflicting agony onhimself by recounting to Miss Adair, when she raised her gray eyes tohis with the faith and reverence still at their average level, evenslightly higher, and stopped his punishment. 

"I understand exactly why people like you and Miss Hawtry don't marryeach other, " she astonished him by saying in all calmness. "Mr. Heightexplained it all to me the other day. Actors and actresses havepeculiar temperaments that fly together when they ought not to, and flyapart when they ought to stay together. I know just how that is becauseI feel--"

"Hush!" commanded Mr. Vandeford, as he laid his hands on the shouldersof his author, who was standing close to him, with the moonlight full onher clear-cut, high-bred face, and he gave her a savage shake. "Thewhole crazy bunch will have to have law and order shot into 'em or thetheatrical profession will follow horse-racing to the devil. If theydon't give up unfaith and the double-cross Broadway will open some nightand swallow them all. And here you come out of a real world and say tome--"

"What did you think I was going to say?" demanded Miss Adair, pressingso close to him that it was impossible for him to administer anothershake. 

"I don't know and I don't want to hear it. I'm afraid to have you sayanything to me. "

"It was this: I was going to ask you what I would have done if you hadbeen married to Miss Hawtry when I got to you and we had begun toproduce our play together. It's different when men and women worktogether! Standards have to be broader. How do I know that I would haverun away to--"

"Don't, don't!" pleaded Mr. Vandeford as she crept still nearer to himand forcibly tried to open his arms for herself. "I'm punished. I'vetaught you myself! When I leave you how'll I ever know if I'm going tofind you there when I come back?"

"Well, how'd you expect to find me--me--there if you don't take methere?" Miss Adair pleaded as she tugged at his folded arms, with suchenergy that her polished thumb-nail slightly marked his iron wrists. 

"I'm not worthy, child, I'm not worthy, " Mr. Vandeford answered withgrim words, and his arms still taut against his breast. 

"You have to judge yourself with the same--same 'broad standards' Ijudge you by, like you told me to use. Please open your arms!"

"I take those broad standards away from you. "

"Jesus Christ gave them to me, only I didn't understand in Adairville. "

"God, I wish you had never left Adairville. "

"I know what there is for us to do. "

"What?"

"I'll go back and marry you by Adairville narrow standards for betterand for worse, and then we'll have to keep 'em for ourselves when wecome back, because we did it knowing what we know, but let other peoplebe broad wherever they are without judging them. I'm going to dropasleep right here on the sand if you don't open your arms. "

"Oh, good Lord, what did You make women out of?" Mr. Vandeford said inall reverence and bewilderment, as he took the "white flame" to hisbreast and drew it past her lips until it burned away all the chaff inhis soul and established itself upon its altar. 

After Mr. Vandeford had again delivered his author to the hopeful maid, waiting up for another greenback, he met Mr. Rooney at the desk of thehotel still on his way to "the hay. "

"Closed up with Weiner to begin rehearsing 'The Rosie Posie Girl' onTuesday, after we open 'The Purple Slipper' in the New Carnival. SaidHawtry wouldn't sign up until I had signed too. She's got a hunch forme. If you fail, their show goes in in your place; if you win, Weinershunts John Drew or Arliss out to one of his other theaters on the road, and puts in 'The Rosie Posie Girl. ' Good business, eh?" And Mr. Rooneyrolled his cigar from east to west and questioned Mr. Vandeford, with anew fire for a new undertaking beginning to burn in his little blackeyes. 

"Fine, " answered Mr. Vandeford, with all cordiality, and not eventhinking of his lost thousands. "It will go big, Rooney, and I'll beglad--none gladder. "

"Sure, " answered Mr. Rooney. "It's all in the business. Everybody onBroadway is out to stab everybody else--but mostly it's paper daggers ifyou take it right. "

"A tissue-paper world sewed together with tinsel thread, " Mr. Vandefordmurmured, as he fell asleep with his cheek pillowed on the wrist thatMiss Adair had marked in the struggle for her own. 

A week from that night "The Purple Slipper" had its first night onBroadway, and opened the New Carnival Theater in a blaze of glory, publicity, and electric lights. The talented young press-agent had donehis work well, and the audience assembled was the most brilliantpossible, made up of the usual blasé critics, eager theatrical peoplewho were not on the boards themselves, and interested and distinguishedmen and women from many outer worlds. In the box facing the one occupiedby Mrs. Justus Farraday, in a blaze of both the Farraday and Justusjewels and prestige, and the beautiful young author of the play, withher son Mr. Dennis Farraday, and the producer, Mr. Godfrey Vandeford, sat Miss Violet Hawtry with Mr. Weiner, the owner of the beautiful newtheater which was opening its doors for the first time on Broadway. Whenthe curtain fell upon the new Lindsey star after its eighth elevation, the Violet rushed behind the scenes and took that astonished young womanin her arms, with the real tears of emotion, with which one genuineartist greets another, in her great blue eyes. 

"You were wonderful, my dear, perfectly wonderful, " she exclaimed. "Yousee, Van, I never could have done it like that. Good luck to both ofyou, and the little author--oh, there you are, my dear! All of you shakehands with Mr. Weiner. He's so pleased that he is speechless, but he'sgoing to give you a big banquet on your fiftieth performance. He'spromised me. "

Which demonstration was perfectly in keeping with Miss Hawtry andMaggie Murphy's character, and emanated from that quality within herthat a month later put "The Rosie Posie Girl" up as high and asbrilliant in electric lights as "The Purple Slipper, " and kept it therean entire year. Which goes to prove that the "tissue paper world" is yetof heroic fibre. 

When Mr. Vandeford went to insert his author into the internationalsafety that evening at about the hour of midnight, he saw that hisfriend the secretary was shooing a chattering party of Christian ladies, who, as his guests, had sat in a group, fifth row center, in the NewCarnival Theater that evening, off up-stairs. With his talisman key, which had never left his pocket since it had been presented to him, inhis hand, he paused to speak in a friendly shadow to his successful andnow truly eminent playwright. 

"You'll have to go South Thursday, and I'll follow Sunday to get thatlittle marriage business over in Adairville before we leave for theKlondike. My commission has arrived from Washington, and the Secretaryof the Navy wants quick reports of the copper before the big freeze. Doyou suppose I can keep you warm in Eskimo furs and--and my heart?"

"Yes, " answered Miss Adair, with the flutter which Mr. Vandeford nowanswered, without any conscious volition. "There ought to be a greatplay out of the Klondike. Jack London could have done it, but--but--"the faithful gray eyes were raised to his with the flame in theirdepths. 

With a groan, but an answering flame, Mr. Vandeford replied:

"It's a fatal drag--. Yes. Some day we'll come back and try to putacross another one!"

 THE END

 * * * * *

Transcriber's note

The following changes have been made to the text:

Page 12: "marischino" changed to "maraschino". 

Page 14: "plenty ruffles" changed to "plenty of ruffles". 

Page 14: "nee" changed to "née". 

Page 29: "heatrical" changed to "theatrical". 

Page 37: "mocking bird" changed to "mockingbird". 

Page 40: "Highcliffe" changed to "Highcliff". 

Page 42: "Vanderford" changed to "Vandeford". 

Page 57: "Madamoiselle" changed to "Mademoiselle". 

Page 58: "Madamoiselle" changed to "Mademoiselle". 

Page 61: "atinkle" changed to "atwinkle". 

Page 67: "Highcliffe" changed to "Highcliff". 

Page 90: "coemployer's" changed to "co-employer's". 

Page 114: "Fou get Gerald" changed to "You get Gerald". 

Pages 118-119: "ear of his coproducer" changed to "ear of hisco-producer". 

Page 125: "Lindenberger" changed to "Lindenberg". 

Page 145: "I'd going to" changed to "I'm going to". 

Page 193: "She's geting along" changed to "She's getting along". 

Page 220: "the he Christian" changed to "the Christian". 

Page 236: "touseled" changed to "tousled"

Page 237: "manila envelop" changed to "manila envelope". 

Page 245: "Vanderford" changed to "Vandeford". 

Page 307: "tryout" changed to "try-out". 

Page 373: "Esquimo" changed to "Eskimo".