Part 20 (2/2)
”Just rushed in to tell you how perfectly grand you were last night, and what perfectly lovely things the papers said about me,” she cried. ”Of course, that smart critic on the _American_ might have said I had improved a little, but then he said I was just as artistic when playing lines as when I was only in the s.e.xtette. Nice, wasn't it?”
Martha smiled. ”What did the _Journal_ say?” she asked.
”Oh, something nice--I don't quite remember,” evaded Pinkie.
”And the _Herald_?”
”Success!” cried Pinkie. ”But I think it's a shame what some of them said about you, Martha. It isn't so at all.”
”Never mind, dear,” said Martha, somewhat wearily. ”We did the best we could.”
”The trouble was the play was bad,” continued Pinkie. ”Don't know what that author meant by putting me only in one act, and then letting Flossie come on twice to interrupt my scenes. But come along, Martha--you must put some powder on that nose if you expect to live through another day. I'll help you dress.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”THIS IS INFAMOUS, INFAMOUS! I WON'T READ ANOTHER LINE.”]
Half an hour later, as Martha had almost completed her toilette, Lizzie interrupted to say that the hotel clerk wanted to send some one up to look at the apartment--a newly married couple. Would it disturb Miss Farnum? If so, they would make the couple call again.
”Certainly not,” replied Martha. ”Show them around yourself. I'll be ready to leave in a few minutes.”
Some three minutes later, Mr. ”Marky” Zinsheimer and his bride, formerly Miss Flossie Forsythe, were ushered into the white and gold apartment, entirely ignorant of the fact that it was occupied by Miss Farnum. Mr.
and Mrs. Zinsheimer having been married a little more than one hour, were already looking for a dove-cote for their honeymoon.
”This might suit us all right--” began Zinsheimer, when Flossie interrupted him with a shriek.
”Bless my soul, if it ain't Lizzie,” shrieked Flossie.
”Lizzie?” repeated Zinsheimer. ”What are you doing here?”
”Why, this is Miss Farnum's apartment,” explained the maid. ”I'll tell her you're here, Miss Forsythe--”
”Mrs. Zinsheimer, if you please,” responded that young lady, haughtily.
”We were married this morning.”
”Fact,” admitted Zinsheimer. ”I always liked you best, Flossie, until you got mad at me because I helped Pinkie, but when I saw you playing the demure little maid last night, with Pinkie lording it all over you, and you never answering back, I said: 'There's the girl for me.' So I waited at the stage door, and when you came out I grabbed you and we sat up so late at Jack's that it was morning before we finished talking things over. So then there was only one thing to do--get married.”
”Sure, you both look happy,” said Lizzie.
”And we are happy, aren't we, Marky?” cried Flossie. ”I'm going to give up the stage for good and all.”
”You can have this apartment in an hour,” said Lizzie. ”Miss Farnum is giving it up because it's too expensive.”
”Too expensive for her, eh?” smiled Zinsheimer; then he added confidentially: ”I know lots of people who would consider it an honor to be allowed to pay her rent.”
”Marky,” cried Flossie, warningly. ”Remember you are a married man now.”
”Marky,” to conciliate his bride, took her in his arms and kissed her.
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