Part 9 (1/2)
”Get to work under your hat, Pops, get to work! The 'Purple Slipper' has got to go on Broadway and go big. I followed that purple hunch for pure cussedness against Violet, and now watch it lead me by the nose. You get Gerald Height on the wire as soon as you can, while I talk to Rooney.”
”But, Mr. Vandeford, sir, it is not a Hawtry play, and--”
”Get busy, get busy, Pops! Put a copy of that ma.n.u.script on my desk where I can lay hands on it the minute I get a chance. Get everything going for a week later than I first called the show and--”
”Here we are!” exclaimed Mr. Dennis Farraday, as he burst into the outer office, ushering as a wedge before him Miss Patricia Adair and Miss Mildred Lindsey. ”Got that hat-check, Pops? Money, I mean, for Miss Lindsey, not a pasteboard for your own lid from some hotel.”
For a minute Mr. Vandeford lost himself in the depths of the wors.h.i.+ping, gray eyes that seemed to have been lifted to his for all eternity in that terrible faith and grat.i.tude. Then he went into action as captain of the s.h.i.+p 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 I discuss a few details with Miss Lindsey, in the office,” he commanded coolly, ushered Miss Lindsey into the sanctum and softly closed the door.
”Mr. Vandeford,” Miss Lindsey began rapidly, ”I knew it wasn't fair to make any definite arrangements with Mr. Farraday, and of course I will take whatever salary you--”
”Where do you live, Miss Lindsey?” Mr. Vandeford interrupted to ask with a totally unwarranted interest on the part of a manager in the affairs of 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 the Y. W. C. A., though I give Mrs. Parkham's as my address for letters and telephone calls. It's cheap and--and I have done dining-room work there for 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 this situation, don't you?” he demanded with a quick recovery.
”I think I do,” answered Miss Lindsey. Then she lifted her big black eyes, in which shone the psychic hunger, though that of the body had been appeased. ”I've got to make good, Mr. Vandeford, and I'll do anything 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 trust me.”
”I believe I can,” Mr. Vandeford answered, after looking at her keenly for a few seconds with the glance with which he had picked his winners or failures in the human comedy for many experienced years. ”Stop your dining-room work at the nunnery and see that she has a good time, just you and she together. I'll send you matinee tickets to shows I want her to see, and Mr. Farraday and I'll look after the other amus.e.m.e.nt. I want her to meet only the people I introduce her to, and the Y. W. C. A. is the 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 October first, and a hundred dollars to last until--until the royalties come in from the play. Those royalties have got to come in, too, or her grandfather--” Miss Lindsey's voice was positively belligerent as she began to put the situation up to Mr. Vandeford, whose heart, as that of a theatrical manager, she felt, must be hard by tradition.
”Yes, I know all about that. You get what money you want from Mr. Meyers out there, and fool her about what things cost as much as you can--until the royalties come in. Let me know when things don't run smoothly for the 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 hundred and 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 on Broadway 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.”