Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1898-03-31
BaRBaUD'S VEuGEGuCE.

Take my advice, Morris. Leave
pretty faces alone or you'll get into
scrape-as l once did, he added re-
f1ectively.
1t was Max Deuchars, the well-known
baritone, who had spoken, and the
room instantly OWNED that an adven-
ture lay beneath.
1.-THE story! Let's have the story!
we cried, with one accord, ard some
one, with delicate forethought, filled
up his glass.
"Well, / suppose there is one, If you
care to call it such" he said, so here
goes. Most of you remember my en-
tering the profession was only
one profession in Deuchars's eyes
but you probably did not know that 1t
was pure accident that gave me my
first chance. But so it was. l was
cast for very minor part, indeed, but
i was always ambitious, and even then
had understudied Barraud, the prin-
cipal baritone, so thoroughly that l
was practically word-perfect in his
lines.
crest l have ever known at makeup,
but careless and Indifferent and en-
dowed with a temper the reverse Of
serene, which caused him to fly off
at tangent on the slightest provoca-
ton. One night he failed to show up
at the proper time. Dickinson, the
manager, was at his wits end. The
regular understudy was taking holt
day. The audience could not be paci-
fed much longer, and he was at loss
what to do. Then l stepped in and
volunteered to play the part. He eyed
me obviously for second or two, but
suppose l looked pretty confident,
for he said:
All right; try-and for goodness
sake be quick
II tried, and-well, / made a hit.
A few weeks later, when Barraud's
engagement required renewing, Dick
enson offered me the part as a per-
manency. Naturally, l accepted. This
turned the chagrined baritones resent
ment against me, though his dismissal
was entirely the result of his own nes-
ligence, and he went away uttering
vows of vengeance against what lie
termed my sneaking ways.
$50 much for Barraud. l did not see
him again for nearly two years, during
which / played the hero nightly with
-modesty forbids me to say more than
a fair amount of success. And now,
having got rid of what novelist would
call the prologue, let me commence in
earnest with the story.
Il had been asked to sing at morn
ing concert somewhere in the suburbs
cended the platform / became COLI
scious of the surprising beauty of one
face among the row after row in front
of me. The girl did not look more
than 10 or 20. The exquisite contour
of her cheeks, the shapely mouth and
nose, and above all, her eyes, fringad
with lashes that seemed to droop in-
stinctively to conceal their depths OF
hazel, ali went to make up face that
was well night perfect in it's lowell
ness.
Il had hazy idea of having seen
her before somewhere, but could not
resolve it into anything definite. Each
time few bars rest gave me the op-
portunity l looked down upon her.
Strange to say she was generally gaz-
ing at me at the same moment, and
our glances met Once l could swear
that she even smiled at the circum-
stance and lowered her eyes purposely
1t was the same during my second
song. subtle kind of magnetism
seemed to play between us.
Il was encored, and this time / re-
sponded, going no further from the
platform than just out of sight of the
audience. When l reascended it, the
seat she had occupied was empty. 1
was disappointed, and racked my brain
again to think where had seen her.
when / returned to the artists
room a surprise awaited me. A tiny
note lay on my bundle of songs. with
my name on the envelope: Instantly 7
jumped to the conclusion that It was
connected with the owner of the lovely
face, and tore ii open In a little fiuttcr
of excitement. Inside was just plain
card, and traced in pencil, in dainty
feminine hand, this:
Come and see me. / have some
thing to tell you
Il was at once e1ated and disappoint-
ed. Elated because / felt that NY
guess was correct; disappointed that
she had given no name, nothing where
by could identify her. She gave an
arddress, 10 Osborne Terrace.
II looked at my watch and hesitat-
ed. could spare half an hour and
still be In time for the theatre. MY
mind was soon made up.
Taking card out of my pocket,
scrubbed few lines on the back has
tily. Dear Jack wrote. 'Awfully
sorry / cannot meet you as promised.
Pressing engagement-Ma They
were to Jack Albery, our tenor. / had
promised to meet him at the club and
go down to the theatre together after
ward. That much accomplished, I
proceeded to the address given by my
fair correspondent.
a. - Il