Part 2 (2/2)
Miss Challoner--I beg to state that I have neither the time nor the inclination to bother with amateur actresses. Richard Warrington.
”It was scarcely polite, was it?” she asked, with a tinge of irony.
”It was scarcely diplomatic, either, you will admit. I simply asked you for work. Surely, an honest effort to obtain employment ought not to be met with insolence.”
He stared dumbly at the evidence in his hand. He recalled distinctly the rage that was in his heart when he penned this note. The stage manager had lost some valuable ma.n.u.script that had to be rewritten from memory, the notes having been destroyed.
”For weeks,” said the girl, ”I have tried to get a hearing. Manager after manager I sought; all refused to see me. I have suffered a hundred affronts, all in silence. Your manager I saw, but he referred me to you, knowing that probably I should never find you. But I was determined. So I wrote; that was your answer. I confess that at the time I was terribly angry, for courtesy is a simple thing and within reach of every one.”
To receive a lesson in manners from a young woman, when that young woman is handsome and talented, is not a very pleasant experience. But Warrington was, a thorough gentleman, and he submitted with grace.
”I know that you are a busy man, that you are besieged with applications. You ought, at least, to have formal slips, such as editors have. I have confidence in my ability to act, the confidence which talent gives to all persons. After receiving your letter I was more than ever determined to see you. So I resorted to this subterfuge. It was all very distasteful to me; but I possess a vein of wilfulness. This is not my home. It is the home of a friend who was kind enough to turn it over to me this night, relying upon my wit to bring about this meeting.”
”It was neatly done,” was Warrington's comment. He was not angry now at all. In fact, the girl interested him tremendously. ”I am rather curious to learn how you went about it.”
”You are not angry?”
”I was.”
This seemed to satisfy her.
”Well, first I learned where you were in the habit of dining. All day long a messenger has been following you. A telephone brought me to the restaurant. The rest you know. It was simple.”
”Very simple,” laconically.
”You listened and believed. I have been watching you. You believed everything I have told you. You have even been calculating how this scene might go in a play. Have I convinced you that I have the ability to act?”
Warrington folded the letter and balanced it on his palm.
”You have fooled me completely; that ought to be sufficient recommendation.”
”Thank you.” But her eyes were eager with anxiety.
”Miss Challoner, I apologize for this letter. I do more than that. I promise not to leave this house till you agree to call at the theater at ten to-morrow morning.” He was smiling, and Warrington had a pleasant smile. He had an idea besides. ”Good fortune put it into my head to follow you here. I see it all now, quite plainly. I am in a peculiar difficulty, and I honestly believe that you can help me out of it. How long would it take you to learn a leading part? In fact, the princ.i.p.al part?”
”A week.”
”Have you had any experience?”
”A short season out west in a stock company.”
”Good!”
”And I love work.”
”Do not build any great hopes,” he warned, ”for your chance depends upon the whim of another woman. But you have my word and my good offices that something shall be put in your way. You will come at ten?” drawing on his gloves.
”Promptly.”
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