The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 20, 1904, Page 5

7 to one's funds at the swinter resorts.” The girl laughed *For a man goeney about broadcast, as ) to me you're growing &t once,” she sald. for you, Tod!” she cried “It's really time t waste any more mone: y, “tor the simple reason fe seriously be- said quickly, What has hap- he said quietly, night you will be To-morrow I rid a clean slate. aste of earning my daily the began little hands to- e to-morrow ?” one men who have chance to jump his rubber r oing there to- It was 2 strong, y after I came here,” he said. We went to ternoon, and you 18 in her blue as you please, But if I had month and had in my house that [ I know what I'd do.” eidon le itient 1 Of « do. It may be only < 1 s or souvenirs that with, Do you a dear, ar a locksmith, al stood * she admitted. cigar into the water it float lazily away or I o tell you some other things 1 brought you out quiet. First, will you vy slip off that ring and give it her she k I am that s Do you think I prom- ised to marry you to desert you at a ort gued, “that is very t remember what this means—years and years of wait- probably. A man can lose in a what it takes a lifetime to replace —what can sometimes never be I can't subject you to ons. You are young doors of the world are open su and t to you It may be hard now, but you'll forget me presently. It is better that you should.” “Tod!” 'There was a world of re- proach in her voice. “Better give it back to me,” he ad- vised. She covered her face with her hands and began to sob. He watched her with all a man’s helplessness at such a moment. “I—1 thought you cared more than that,” she sald chokingly. “Cared?” he sald wildly, “cared? Good God! Have you any idea how much I care? Let me tell you, then. I have cared so much I have stayed here until I am well nigh penniless. Come what might, I was bound to be with you until the last cent was gone. I have stayed until there is nothing until it becomes necessary for me to go over to the town to-morrow to pawn my evening clothes and watch to get my passage money down there. I have cared like the desperate gambler who plays the game to his last farth- ing. That's the way I care,” he ended hoarsely. The man and girl faced each other in silence; he with tense, drawn face; she with a wonderful light in her eyes. She drew the ring from her finger and laid it in his big. brown hand. “You are wise,” he said heartily. She looked at him searchingly. “I give it back on one condition,” she ‘You must pawn it.” “Pawn it?” he gasped. can’ ‘You must,” she said. “Will you tell me why I must?” he said, watching it flash in the dim light. “To—to pay my passage down there with you, Tod,” she said with burning cheels, “Not this. I THE 1ation champ inHopkinsville she let dow k and be- sought f; r, dear fa to come home with her now, haif the men in the ence would look around has- tily as though they thought they heard some one calling them. As was only natural undér the cir- cumstances Florence Maude soon be- gan to have visions of herself pushing out of h way tween solid and glid- by most approved -style of Johnnies to ge door, where her automobile aiting. > had heard great tales of the s: ries that leading ladies received for do- perfectly simple things, as much as 2 hundred dollars a week for walking about on a stage and talking in a nat- ural tone of voice, without a single thrill in it, for two or three hours every night. When they were not doing this they were giving delightful little suppers. At last Florence Maude reached the point where she could no longer re- strain her vaulting ambition. She must act or she must perish. She was dead sure that the world was standing on tiptoe for her to come out and show just how it should be done. Accord- ingly she packed her child’s. size Sara- toga and took the nine-forty accommo- dation from Hopkinsville to Jones Cen- ter, where she was to connect with the Accldental Limited. Her cry was, “On to Gotham!” That’s a pretty good kind of a cry, but people who have tried it have found Gotham a mighty hard kind of a place to get on to. After Florence Maude had estab- lished herself in a boarding-house where she wouldn’t be set back more than twenty-five per, at the outside, she started out on the still hunt for the deadly manager in his lair. She had written to two or three that she was coming, but they hadn’t even answered her letters. Probably they were too busy looking for a play for her. Her idea of the way that she would break into the theatrical world was modeled largely on a story that she had read about a young woman from Manayunk, who got her picture into the shop windows the first month out, married a member of the Stock Exchange inside of a year, was di- vorced in six months and was now drawing a hundred and fifty per- (haps). All that this young lady had done was to walk into the office and smile at the manager. Florence Maude S AN FRANCISCO SUNDAY .CALL. acticing on her smile for was sure that she could the toughest managereon had been pr a year and s bring down the Rialto. & naturally Maude poor manager 1 kind-hearted girl, idn't want to keep 1iting for her. She th didn't knrow that a theatrical man- age principal occupation is waiting for good actresses to come along; most of them are still w ng. The firs office that she floated into w presided over by a small bey with a Zangwill cast of to a strect car tor look like the original Lord Chester- features and a desire would have made oblige that conduc- field. This accommodating young gen- tleman assured Florence Maude that the manager had been called suddenly to Albany to fight a bill in the Legisla- ture making a working knowledge of the English language indispensable for singers in ccmic opera. He also in- formed her that budding acfresses were so thick in New York that winter that business traffic had been ordered off Broadway from Twenty-sixth street to the Hotel Metropole. Florence Maude's ambition was pulling back on the leading strap as she dragged it out into the street again. The automobile and the mid- night. suppers didn’t seem so immi- nent as they had the night before, but she still had hope. The rest of that day and of seyeral days might have been represented by ditto marks as far as Florence Maude was concerned. Tiere seemed to be an overproduction of expert actresses and an underpro- duction of acceptable places. It promised to be a long, cold win- ter for Florence Maude when chance and the necessity of finding a place to lay her weary head that didn't guite so much per lay threw her int the company of a young lady who ¢ ried a bunch of paper roses in rear row of the chorus in From Nowhere in ardent worshiver of the dramatic muse told her ihat another girl was wanted in the same row to hold up one end of a banner and wave her left foot above her head when the Prince comes on in the last act with the disguised manicurist, who con- descended to accept his hand in mar- riage. It was an opening and that was what Florence Maude was look- ing for. She was sure that if the manager would once give her a chance to tell him about the last will and testament of the soldier who lay the “The Girl Particular. This —_— - . CASE OF FLORENCE MAUDE - | | Fable fow the | dying in Algiers he would turn the | | i C I Foolish | gl;:;ic;‘uarf; Ehve el h Srosh ae e i 4,_\51 m\?‘iof)‘) a heart full of emotion and reviving ambition she was ushered into the presence of the manager with her smile trained to the minute and her voice ready to break out at a moment'’s warning. She intended to explain to the man that she was going into the chorus only as a temporary relief measure, and that her real forte was the tremolo variety of ma where the heroine comeés on in the first act with her hair hanging down her back, and demands that the villain produce her che-ild ferthwith or tell her the name of his lawyer. She would undoubtedly have made a great hit with the manager if he had given her the chance to tell him about it, but instead of asking her to cpeak a few pieces for him he looked her over as though he was thinking about buying her a couple of new gowns and wanted to get something that would fit her complexion and general make- up. He didn’t even want to know if she could sing, which was very care- less of him; if she had happened to be able to warble a few notes in tune the effect on the rest of the chorus is awful to contemplate. The upshot of the brief interview was that Florence Maude was told to appear for rehearsal the next morning and afternoon and to be at the theater promptly at 7 o'clock, or be set back $2. For this arduous service at fhe shrine of the late Melpomene she was to receive the tremendous stipend of $8 a week, with the possibility of a raise to nine before the end cf the season, if the show didn’t fade away or the treasurer de- part suddenly to keep an important en- gagement in Montreal. She stood it for about two weeks and then drew the $6 75 standing to her credit, over and above the fines levied for being late at rehearsals, having a hole in her slipper, falling on her face in the middle of the last act and.com- mitting other offenses against the dra- matic proprieties. Then she took the back track for Hepkinsville and broke the news to her loving friends that the American stage was in a bad way, and that genius was the last thing wanted in the back row.of the chorus. Six months later she married the dentist, and is now the leading light of the Hopkinsville Hawthorne Club. The only trouble with Florence Maude» was that she hadn’t discovered that the only thing which is begun at the top is a hole in the ground. Most of the people who are engaged in con- structing those are doing it for the purpose of crawling into them after- ward. ner for a bride, she went upstairs, her first New Year's eve. Perhaps by the time the m night bells rang out she might be thought, as she making a few strange resolutions for ear. on the garret stairs. Bob's dress- the coming y It was d She stopped at the door ing-room and took a the mantel. It w Japanese bronze grif wings and spiral, sinuo tail. As she heid it the gas jet to light the candle something fell on the rug at her feet and she picked it up It was a small, old-fashioned ordinary brass key. She looked at it hesitat- ingly. It had never been on Bob's ring, she knew. The space between the wings of the bronze grifin was a clever idea for concealment. She set her lips closely and went up the garret stairs with the candle- stick in one hand and the key in the other. Half way there was a turn at a small landing, and it was at the angle made by this that she had found the little low door leading to the “catch all.” She opened it now and entered, half clesing the door after her. The desk was pushed to one side with some trunks and boxes. It was a quaint, antique affair of mahogany, severely colonial in style. The main body was crescent shaped, supported on hand-carved legs. There were four vith outspread to drawers, two on each side, and a small, low cabinet of pigeon-holes on top. Suzanne stood motionless before it for several minutes, trying to make up her mind to insert the key. When she did so, in the lock of the nearest top drawer, her hand trembled slight- 1y, and she held her breath. The key turned easily and the drawer was ready for inspection, but she did not open it Thoughts whirled like the fluttering® snowflakes through her mind, and she stood again irresolute. told Bess that she belleved in Bob. Higher than her him had been her unfalter- She ¥ absolutel love fo ing belief and confidence in him. It was the very keystone of her marriage faith, and yet, at the first blow of suspicion, it gave way. a child, with the impulsive judgment of a child. She had been wrong to even tell her of the desk, Wror to discuss Bob or his motives with her at all, or to listen for an instant to any doubt of him, even In > must have faith and walt. jest He had probably locked the desk against the curiosity of the servants and had forgotten it in th excitement of the wedding. S believe in him. The mere fact tha: they were married did not give oner's right to hold a post-mortem er his dead dast. There was the sound of a footstep on the stairs, and relocked ths drawer ickisr. ‘I'll be down in a she oment, Norah, * serve dinner.” at answered was £ and mascul She y let the ean- dle fall in her 1 recognition of it. only I, Sue. 1 doing in there She stood mute he bent his head and entered »r. It was Bob, and he w happy, his clear eyes seeking the glad welcs ex “I only ran tor t added. “I couldn’t let y first new year alone, sweetheart.” but His arms reached for her, shook her head and handed him the k “I haven't used it,” she said, broksu- 1y , oh, Bob, me go near it You don’t have to e wh n the old th 1 he de ow what?’ nded He drew her to him tender- “IVhat's up, anyway?” she sobbed. “it's des n He stared at the desk g the key was »u found it all ? Couldn't you un- but—but I don't wish to She tried took her her tear- vate affairs.” t away, but he them from wet face so t see her eyes. “Bue, daril * he said. “You bless- ed little N Bluebeard, that desk is a wedding present to you from er Hadleigh. It's been in year one, I guess, gle thing in those v It came the last minute the day we married, and was so heavy and unwieldy I told father to send it along with my things and have it put away somewhere until we came home. And I laid the key in the grif- fin for safe keeping. What did you think was in it But e sllenced further ques- ng in her own effectual v The stone of her happiness was firm and immovable. But as they went downstai to dinner she registered one Year's vow in her heart. In re she would let love laugh at — o | . A GASOLINE CUPID By Crittenden Marriott EUF! Teuf! Teuf! Teut! Hrrr! Wough!” The automobile ceased its monoton- j ous chant, coughed once or twice and subsided Into a state 4 . of silence, and, alas! immobility. In a moment the chauffeur was off his seat, and poking about In the machinery. Then he went to the door of the carriage and touched his hat. “Beg pardon, miss,” he said, “but she’s broke down an'll have to go to the shop. I'm sorry, but you'll have to get around the city some other way.” The girl on the back seat—a tall, handsome blonde with the bluest of blue eyes—uttered an exclamation. “If that isn’t too bad! And I've got just two hours to' see Washington before my train goes! Can’t you call another auto for me? The chauffeur glanced around him. “Oh, yes'm,” he sald. “Of course. There -ought be some here on the stand now, only there ain't. But I'll g0 in an’ telephone for one right awa _“Do! Or stay, there's one waiting at the postoffice door now. Maybe it's for hire.” The man looked doubtfully at the machine indicated. “Don’t think so, miss,” he answered. “That's a private machine or I miss my guess; still, I'll ask.” Leaving the girl he walked over to the curb and addressed the young man sitting on the box of a handsome automobile. No one familiar with the new horse- less vehicles would for one moment have supposed that the one in question wasg for hire. “Racer” appeared in ev- ery line of its bulld and costliness in the exquisite nicety of its construction. That anything but an instant nega- tive would be the answer to his query “whether that machine was for hire?” had never passed his brain, so his as- tonishment may be guessed when the young man on the box started, glanced at the girl still sitting in the Injured vehicle a short distance away, flushed deeply, and replied in the affirmative. Then, without waiting for further ex- »n, he promptly ran his machine e of the other, and halted to permit the girl to climb in. The next moment they wer ng down the avenue at a lively gait. The girl leaned forward. “Ahem she said. “Did the other man tell you where T wanted to go?” “Said you wanted to see the city ma’am,” returned the young man, re- spectfully, but in a curiously muffied tone. He had kept his head averted, almost as if he wished to conceal his features—a wish—if it were a wish— in which he had been successful; the girl had looked at the machine but not at the driver. ‘When the chauffeur spoke she started and glanced curiously at him, as though his voice struck some cor- mant chord in her memory. “Yes,” she said. “I do want to see the city, but I want to get to the depot by 3 o’clock. My train goes out then.” “Yes'm. I'll get you there in time. Going East. ma'am?” 3 Again the girl looked at him curi- ously. “Yes, she answered slowly, “I'm on my way to college.” “Oh—er—you believe in the higher education of women, fhen.” The girl's eyes were dancing with fun now. “Under certain circumstances,” she said. “Is that the Capitol?” “Yes'm, that's the Capitol. certain circumstances. stances, for instance?” “Oh, a stepmother at home, for in- stance. How many Senators are there " “Three hundred and eight-six, I be- lleve. A stepmother might be a terror to some girls, of course. but most of them can get away from one home to another without going to college.” “How? By the way, is that the l- Under What circum- Why, of course, most girls have—have—can marry.” The man was speaking eagerly now, but he still kept his face turned aw: and threw the words over sho “Married! Whew! Tt radical re: dy. It might be worse than the other trouble. How many books are there in the library?” wo or three million, I believe. Oh, no! You wouldn't find it so, I'm sure. Think of growing into a spec- led old maid! All college girls do you know. Then think of that yo fellow just longing to make a hom for you—" “What building is that?” a very ko ? Oh, the Patent office or sion Office or something! nk of—" “But suppose the girl has sent him Then let her whistle him back and see whether he won't come.” The girl glanced at the broad back of the man before her, while her shoulders quivered with silent mirth Then she puckered up her lips and deliberately emitted a clear, soft whistle. The effect was magical. the chauffeur swung around seat and faced her. “Bessie!” claimed, “do you mean it?" The girl smiled at him, though her Instantly in his he ex- eyes were dev “Of course 1 do Frank.” she 1. “I never thoug you would go away as you did for a word. No! No! Keep your seat. You an say all that's really S from where you are.” And you knew me all the time?" The minute I But you'll vou 1ke me No train for you! Tl ne ow. Your inter have lapsed, but here's Shall I go in and get or—will you go in nces a marriage lice with me?” He bad sprung stood hold of love pleading i you go in with me, again. For an insts then she took “Yes, Frank,” she g0 with you—now and always.” “Bless that old gasoline rattletrap that broke down with you,” he cried. “It must have been one of Cupid’s up- to-date chariots in disguise” seat and the light Won't * he asked the