Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, October 3, 1914, Page 2

PAGE TWO CRY FROM AUDIENCE| By BEATRICE YORK HOUGHTON. ENPTOTOINTOTOTOTOTOIOZOTOZTOIZO T rright The womun‘cgfi{l"ug wistful eyes looked round the theater, then turned to her companion witn a sigh. He, however, was intently studying the program, and his frowning brow did not invite interruption, so she turned once more to the stage. She felt distinctly aggrieved that on this, one of the rare nights when they afforded a trip to the vaudeville, there should be anything dull in any of the performances. The wistfulness of her eyes showed how she.longed for any- thing that might break the monoton- ous routine of her life. The man, who was Willlam Trail and her husband, whispered impa- tiently: “Do stop fidgeting, Evelyn.” “It's such a poor show,” she whis- pered back. “The next stunt's sure to be good,” he replied. “You can’'t expect every- thing to be first-class, especially in a stock performance.” ‘ Bvelyn looked up at the singer im- patiently, wondering how much longer the song would be. Then she was caught and held by the actress’ ut- ter lack of verve, by her listlessness and evident distaste for her employ- ment. Evelyn watched the singer with a oew interest. She was Mlle. de Bray on the program, danseuse and racon- teuse. 8he had walked deliberately onto the stage, had told a scarcely funny story in a lifeless voice, and had then begun, withcut further preliminaries on the equally lifeless song. She seemed to be entirely without makeup. Her dress was carelessly put on, her hair brushed anyhow, and her hollow eyes and white cheeks showed ghastly in the limelight. As she droned on, Evelyn found herself wondering what place this tragic face and figure could have on the lively vaudeville stage. Why should a reputable house have en- gaged her? Mlle. de Bray began on the chorus of her song and on the half-hearted gyrations which evidently established her claims to a danseuse. Evelyn yawned behind her p-ogram and glanced at her husband. His frown made her feel lfke a very small, very naughty girl. The singer began on the second verse of her song. “Oh, goodness gracious!” thought Evelyn. “Will she never get through?” A momentary bustle caused by gome late comers digtracted the gudl- < 1 20 IO O35 \ o $eeiss i3 S i L 3 OO E 0 OISO R0 &1 s i ) D i i o e o HOBHOHO THE EVENING TELEGRAM LAKELAND, FLA, OCT. 3, 19i4. .’ ‘@nce for a space, but the lifeless voice droned on. Then there happened somethi g which stirred the entire house, brought Willlam Trail from his frown- ing displeasure with a start, and | roused Evelyn to the eagerest inter- est. For a little girl, one of the late com- ers, had jumped to her feet with a tense cry of joy. “My mamma!” she shrieked excit- edly. “Oh, it is—Iit is my mamma!’ The woman upon the stage stopped singing as though shot. She looked llke an automaton suddenly galvan- 1zed into life. Her fate expressed rapidly the gamut of emotions from the daze of non-comprehension, to the dawning of a joy almost too great. She stood quite still, stralning toward the part of the theater from whence the cry of the little child had come, listening leth parted lips and panting breast [ for a repetition of it. In the dead silence the elderly woman with the child could be heard hushing her to silence, while the little thing, half-agbashed, began to ory. “Helen,” breathed Mlle. de Bray at last. ““Oh, Helen, can it be you? The lights blind me, but surely, surely that was ycur voice. Speak to me again, my darling—my darling—" The agonized tones rose to a scream of supplication. The audience sat breathless. The elderly woman, embarrassed past en- durance, rose and began to push the unwilling child down the aisle. The little girl made a desperate struggle and succeeded In wrenching herself free. Sobbing loudly, she ran toward the stage. Mlle. de Bray leaned far out over the footlights, and the child reached up her tiny arms. The first violinist lifted her high, and in another mo- ment she and the singer were clasped in a close embrace. There was nothing left of droning lifelessnees about the singer now. All woman and all mother, in utter self- forgetfulness she sobbed and cooed over the little girl. The elderly woman spoke in troubled tones. “I s’'pose you must be her mother,” she said doubttully. “Oh, 1 am:—1 am,” cried Mlle. de Bray, lifting a radiant face to the eager crowd. Then a realization of her position seemed to dawn upon her. “I ask your pardon,” she cried, springing to her feet, and still retain- ing her hold upon the child as though afraid to let her go. She laughed a | delicious little laugh. | “1 owe you all the explanation,” she began, and her voice and her face were allve and glowing, and her charm was unmistakable. “I lost my little Helen six months ago. There was an accident, you remember? A street car collided with a taxi. You eurely remember.” in the atsle SN o DB GGG m: She paused as though for answer, and then resumed. “I was hurt. They carried me up to the hospital and all that I know is, that | & H when I woke up from my long illness no one could tell me anything at ulll about my lttle girl. They thought that I had dreamed her.” Suddenly her manner changed from the joyous to the accusing. She ad- dressed herself to the elderly woman still standing uncertainly in the aisle. “And you kept my baby,” she cried. “You kept her from me when my heart was breaking. What right had you? What right?” The elderly woman stiffened, a- 1 in her turn lost consciousness of the audience. She was the gullty before her judge, and she began her justifi- cation. “I had every right,” she said indig- nantly. “I took the child home with me. 1 seen she was all alone, and they sald you were dead. She was 80 pretty I wanted her real bad, and I done my best for her. You can see that. “Then when they printed all that about your coming to and wanting her, I just couldn’t give her up. Amd I feel I did right. An actress isn't no sort of a mother for a little girl to have. | “I just couldn’t give her up,” ro-l peated the elderly woman. “And I'm awfully sorry I come in here tonight. She begged 80, and I eaw there were trained animals on the program—" Mlle. de Bray still stood silent, caressing with one hand the child who nestled against her skirts. The audience still sat in its trance of in- terest. The elderly woman'’s troubled eyes roved over the faces about her, over the faces farther off, settling at last on the happy mother and child. | “T s'pose I did wrong,” she sald at last in a stifled sort of voice. “But I never did approve of actors. It'll just about break my heart to give Helen up. Will you let me see her some- timea ?” A “You kept her from me,” said the actress simply, but in the one short sentence lay all the agony she had en-, dured. | The elderly woman seemed to ac- cept it as her answer, and she walked slowly down the aisle and through the door into the lobby. The actress stood quite still until the door had shut. Then she breathed a long sigh, of rellef and spoke again with the | winsome joyousness of a happy wom- ' an In her voice. “With your permission we will 80 now,” she said. “Tomorrow night; Helen and I will dance together for you. But not now—" . The silence which followed her withdrawal testified to the apprecia- tion of the audience for her new- ! found joy. P —————e g > g & & LR R ebinl el BadLulud Ll SO0 CHD CHIHEHDE DT R LR L0 Bt : : band’s eyes, and he forgot to frown. Perhaps they could enter more deep- ly into the sorrow and happiness of Mile. de Bray than people who were not childless. Later, as they were walking down the street together, Evelyn dared to speak out some of her thoughts about it all, and her husband was appre- olative, though he grumbled a little as was his wont. “That’s just like & woman,” he com- mented. ‘“Wants to know how people have suffered just for the sake of see- ing them happy at the end.” Bvelyn pouted. “I hate commonplaceness,” she said, then, “Oh, Will, see—" she cried, and stood quite still. For, strolling happily toward them down the street, were Mlle. de Bray, little Helen, and the elderly lady. As they came up Evelyn could not for bear to speak. “TI am s0 glad for you,” she cried to Mile. de Bray, “and I am so very, very glad that you have forgiven her.” She indicated the elderly woman. “That s the loveliest part of it all. 1 wish all the audience could know of it.” Mlle. de Bray stood looking at| Bvelyn with a quizzical smile. But pageiala LR R 2 ] (. We can save you money on Wagons. and 2-horse Wagons is complete, and if you need a Wagon for hauling fruit this fall, see us. “COLUMBUS” make and the name is a guarantee of quality, MODEL HARDWARE Go. Phone No. 340 We Want YOUR Business SHPQIOFTRT O IQPOFAFLIOPO SO PSS BED C. E. say was never said. Helen bad taken the reins. { “Don’t I do it fine? she asked proudly. “Mamms say I'm going to be a great actress when I grow up.” And strangest of all, when Helen : sald mamma she took the hand of the ' elder lady. “I don’t understand,” said Evelyn. Mille. de Bray laughed shortly. “Why, that was our act,” she ex- plained. “I'm not in the regular stock, though I let on that I am. I'm| on the road, and we give this each first night. It's the greatest draw- ing card—" “And was there any accident?” asked Evelyn. “There’s always accidents,” laughed Mlle. de Bray. “Sometimes they're a year back and sometimes a month. Just so I can strike on a dig one, it's all the same for my aot.” “Oh,” breathed Bvelyn. “I'm sorry you're disappointed, ’ said Mlle. de Bray kindly. *I wouldn't have let on if Helen hadn't given it away. This here’s my mother, too, and Helen is my littlest sister. Come and see us dance tomorrow night.” But Evelyn could not answer. In the wistfulness again of her eyes, Evelyn smiled_haopilv into her hus- | ¥hatever she mav hava intended to and in the tired droop of her mouth, Ll SR SRR R R L=t SR AR LA R LR R Accuracy Taste, Style ‘ S0 $r<% POHE Q could be roed all of her dizazaoint. ' FARM WAGONS Qur stock of 1 We sell the o R R R TODD, Mgr. ment and chagrin. AS¥ for once her husband understood. He bade the actress and her peopls | good-night fcr his weary little wite, i and when he had opened thejr own door, he stooped and kissed that i) mouth right where the droop was, And he said not one ward abuyt | Evelyn's disillusicnment. not one sip. | gle word Less Darning Needed. PA To do away with some of the dar. ing, rub the heels of new stockings with parafin. Put the stocking over the darning egg and warm the parafin enough to make it soft in the hand. Then rub well. It will be found that this protects the heel against rubbing and that it will not wear out. The Larger Hats. . Already large hats are seen, adorned | often with huge white wings, so long that they look as if they might have been derived from an albatross, and |} adjusted at eccentric angles. At the % moment, indeed, white 18 conspicuous in millinery. Many hats are entirely white, or with merely a touch of black. Others of black—or the bright dark blue hats which are seen with some otherwise black toilettes—show wings. aigrettes, ribbon mounts, or perhaps roses or camelias all white. Lakeland Evening Telegram The Lakeland News HAT’S what you want in your Printing, no matter whether it be on your visiting card, your little advertising dodger, or +ssss0ee03 your big, expensive booklet. For every kind of printing we mix the above ingredients in just the right proportion. Your printing, when we do it, looks just right. People won’t criticise it, and point out errors in it, . t will make you ashamed of it. The paper will be neatly and squarcly cut—and not look like it was hacked out with a handsaw. The type used will be the latest and most stylish faces; the presswork will be such that every letter will show up just right. Your printing won’t look pale and sickly, nor be daubed with too much ink. Workmen who know how, with thousands of dollars worth of the most modern machinery, enable us to “do it better.” PEIEFEFHIIUEIIIIH AP IIII PP FESPPI P00 000 We invite your next Order Telephone Number 37 A . QEOPFOAPOPOT TR N \ R L Y Evening Telegram Buildi ng First House on Main Street 9 Head of Things R == 080800 ot At the