The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1893-11-17

The world had Wldened and grown so
fair. Tho years teemed with rosy pos
sibilities, mystic, reckoning. His heart
was full with a rush of joy.
1t seemed to him there never was n
fairer night than this, which marked the
first important ascent in his life. Frost
glittered on the pavements like pale
dust. The rays Of the moon blanched
window panes into squares of pearl and
sketched the outlines of chimneys and
doorposts in fanciful black angles.
AS he strobe along his blood tingled
in the seductive confusion OF q dream
where passion and triumph walked hand
in hand. Virginia-he loved her sol She
was so necessary to him. He would make
up for all she suffered now. All, would
he not? 1t would be sweet to lavish
upon her the dainties and elegancies that
all women love. She should have done
with pinching and worry in that happy
time.
Wonderful visions these, which Tom
saw revealed in the moonlight. Stain
less, they buoyed his spirit and beckoned
him on.
When he reached the theater, the Sec
ond act was over. He felt a little tired,
and his breath came fast, yet in his ex-
altation he was scarcely conscious of
having walked.
At the box Office the manager stood
chatting with some friends. A low,
thick laugh gurgled from his lips; his
face was radiant. Everything about
him told of crowded house and big box
office receipts. He saw Tom and beck
oned to him.
"Shy, are your" he asked, with roll
licking wag of his head, an expanding
wave of his white hands.
He was large man, red faced, pale
haired, one who had always a genuine
welcome for himself, and whose every
action was climatic. If he were only
Offering cigarette, he plunged into his
pocket with an air of mystery and
brought forth triumphant surprise.
"You stole away from us all after
making the biggest hit I've seen in -
years. Come, come. that will never do.
You want to pull yourself together,
youngster, and get cheeky, for you'll
have to face the crowd by and by"
"Face the crowd? You Gol't mean"-
Eyes, do. They'll call H. you. aca
you'll go out with pretty speech, and
all the girls will fall in love with you.
The last is most important, by the way.
1t will bring crowded matinees. The
women keep the theaters going, just as
they elect the presidents. They're the
ones you want to please. You'll please
'em, my boy; you'll please EN-"
He laughed knowingly, his friends
joining. Then his face grew suddenly
sharp and serious, something hawklike
chasing the lazy good humor from his
expression.
"Here's Delatole. Be nice to him,
and he'll make your fortune doubly
sure. 1 heard him asking for you min
ute ago."
''Delatole? The critic on The Chal-
lenge?'
"The same. See here, Murray. A lit
tie fattery goes q long way with him.
If he likes you personally, the dictionary
doesn't hold words strong enough for
his praise. If he doesn't, he can do the
wet blanket business in the most ex-
quisite diction you ever read. Ask him
to supper. Cultivate him. He's q bit
of schemer, two faced as they make
'em, and | wouldn't trust him around
the colner-no, not around the corner.
All, Delatole, how are you? You're the
very man we want to see," he cried as
the newcomer strolled up to them.
"What do you think Of the play? Some
of you fellows would rather roast us
than do the other thing any day. But
you'll do US justice. AS l was just say
ing to Murray, he can rely on you for
fair play"
The lie was spoken with impressive
earnesthess, suggesting a deeply rooted,
long tried confidence, but was accom-
panied by thumb thrust that left an
aching memory in the region Of Toms
ribs.
He moved from the thumbs vicinity
and found Delatole critically examining
him.
SO this was Delatole, the feared, the
brilliant, the applauded. The very chill
dren were familiar with his name. Es-
says, poems, reviews, had trickled from
his untiring pen in crystalline phrases,
the pattering music of a mandolin in their
light swing. He had been pioneer in re-
forms in the political, social and ethical
centers of the country. But he was best
known as dramatic critic, mechanic
of verbal eccentricities that surprised
and dazzled. His paragraphs fingered in
the memory and could not be forgotten.
With his pen he let out the blood in the
veins of the plays he condemned, and for
those that won him wove in one magical
sentence verbal crown of flowers Ian
guidly sweet and penetrating as fall of
happy tears. This was Delatole, the au-
thor, the poet realist of theater lobbies.
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r? ~ ~ 90 80
1914 6gSNN