The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1896-11-11
A PROFESSIONAL.
By CAROLINE SHELLY.

She stood by the window looking
through the straight hanging lace cur
tans long after the door had opened
and shut on Twyefort's form.
"This is what L have dreamed of"
She sat down at the low writing ta-
BILE in the corner and drew a sheet of
paper and pen toward her. 'Sleep
on it, think it over well, he had said,
"and write me tomorrow. What need
to wait? He should have his answer
now.
But she did not write at once, she
leaned her head on her hand while the
pen idly trniled, quite dry, across the
blotting pad, and her happy eyes
watched its progress. Sue might have
sat just so for her portrait. There
were hundreds of photographs of her
all over London in that position; it
was one she particularly affected; a
new package lay unopened at her ell
bow; taken in the very violet velvet
gown she was wearing, and her name
printed beneath - Maxima Sterling.
She had not changed it when she went
on the stage; she had no great family
escutcheon to stain, nor any formid-
able connection to overshadow by her
profession. Her father had been
circus owner, her mother the prettiest
woman bare back rider in the world,
yet it could scarcely be said that she
inherited her histrionic talent, for
what is there in common between
pirouetting on horses Lnck to a cir
Gus band, and holding n London au-
dience spell bound by the interpreta-
ton OF London heroine?
"Maxima Sterling" she wrote
across the blotting pad in big de-
termined hand, and then. "Maxima-
Lady Twycfort," and laughed aloud
at the oddity of it. The little gilt
clock on the chimney-piece chimed
four, and ray of cold sunlight flew
through the lace curtains over the for
gotten letter sheet. She heavcd a
sigh, the sigh of mortal waking from
fair dreams of Paradise to realiztion
of the world again and began her
task. When the sunlight had left the
writing table, and crept out at the
window again and the hand of the
small clock pointed to five, she sealed
and directed it with her firm strong
touch. There was servant coming
along the landing; he should mail it
directly. She stood there waiting -
tall, expectant - when the door
opened.
'Mr. Heathcote.
"Ah! admit him." and she smil-
ingly laid the letter face downward on
the writing table.
'It is good to see you this bitter
day, Teddy" she said, holding out her
hand. Her voice was soft and low and
resonant; it had been half her sue
cess in her professional career; it
brought clear light now into the
mans eyes as he came forward and
took chair opposite to her at her
hearthstone.
always hospitable," he said, CRATE
fully, "but you knewI would be here,
Massie. Has ever more than day
gone by that l have not managed to
see you, since we first started uphill
together?"
"Not so very uphill, dear boy;
we've shared success, haven't we?"
Next season we must star together, ="
he said, 'I've a splendid plan; when
you have given me some tea I'll un-
fold it.
Miss Sterling lay back in her chair,
with hands clasped behind her head,
staring ut the shadows chasing one
another across the tinted ceiling.
"Ah! but lam tired of it all, Ted dy,
tired-tired; / thought / was am bi j.
tious; am not. l don't care n far
thing for fame or footlights or-or
applause; it is all so hollow. What
am but "a puppet." She arose
and walked the length of the room
once or twice, and came back to lean
her elbow on the chimney-piece, tow
ering above him.
"I've heard itall before, you know, >
he said quietly, good-humoredly,
''you're bit tagged from the excite
ment Of last evening. ! fancy. A frs
J night is terribly trying. and then th