Part 40 (2/2)
”It'll be a swell blow, Del. The hundredth night he gave when Perfecta was starring was town talk. He don't stop at nothin'.”
”No, he don't stop at nothin'.”
”He gimme a look to-night when I came off from the prance. He'd gimme notice in a minute if he didn't need me. He knows that ballet would fall like a bride's biscuit without me.”
”Sure it would! He likes your work, hon'. I never pulled any strings for you, neither. He just seen your try-out and liked it swell.”
”Sure he did, but he's that jealous of you! He was dead sore when you brought me down here to dress with you. Gee, you're tired, ain't you, dearie?”
”Dog-tired! That staircase waltz always does me up.”
”Lay your head down here a minute. Ain't that just life, though? Here we are kicking just like a year ago in Fallows's 'Neatly Furnished.'”
”I ain't kickin', Ysobel. I wake up every morning pinchin' myself.”
”Gawd, if you gotta long face, what ought the rest of us to have? You're the luckiest girl any of us knows. Did you see what the new _Yellow Book_ says about you? 'The t.i.tian-headed Venus de Meelo'--how's that--huh?”
”Just the same, you wouldn't change places with me, Ysobel! Don't wriggle out of answering me! Now, would you?”
”Watch out, you're mussing up your beauty curls. Here, lemme pin that diamond heart on the left shoulder of your dress. Hurry up, honey, Myers will be here any minute, and you know how sore he gets if you keep him waitin'.”
”Do I?”
”Say, but that silver's swell on you!”
”Say, Ysobel, wait till they see my little sister. We could do a twin act that would take 'em off their feet. That new 'Heavenly Twin' show that Al read us the first act of, with Cottie and me featured, and you doin' the Columbine--gee--”
”'Sh-h-h-h! There--he--is--knockin'.”
”It can't be Hy already. I--I ain't dressed yet, Hy--just a minute! Oh, it's a telegram, Ysobel; take it, like a good girl.”
”Say, it ain't another from Third Row Bobbie, is it? You ought to tip him off that he's wastin' his pin-money on you, hon'.”
Della ripped the flap, read, and very suddenly sat down on the silver-fox coat. The color drained out of her face, and her breath came irregularly as if her heart had missed a beat.
”Della--Del--darlin'--what's the matter?”
”Oh, Gawd!”
”What, darlin'--what?”
”Read!”
Ysobel peered across the bare shoulder, her slim silk legs tiptoed and her neck arched.
Maw buried yesterday. Money you sent for her birthday paid funeral. Am ready. Wire directions.
COTTIE.
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