The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1901-12-12


hat"
But Alice, don't you ever get tired
of 1t" Don't you wnnt--it's Il mighty
hard life for q girl knocking about the
country"
I Get tired of It, or course do. be-
ing human. Don't you get tired of
writing editorials sitnetmes?"
30 yes Lots of other people get tired
of them. too.
~ think there are times when all of
US. even the best hate the very sight
or the goose that lays the golden eggs
for US. But this is my profession. I'm
beginning to know it and I'm proud of
it--yes. proud Of it. Why shouldn't +
be? And will you please tell me what
else am to do" VIII you give me u
place on your newspaper? VIII you
teach me to write editorials? Or per-
haps you would like me to draw the
fashion plates. I'm sure il wouldn't
matter how ! drew them for no wo-
man ever looked or dressed like those
creatures. even on the stuge"
They We're very near the hotel and
Austin felt that he must have appeared
anything but impressive to this tan.
talizns Bit of feminty at his side. He
spoke quickly lest she should escape
him before he had said what was in
his heart. "There is q place | have to
offer YOU. Alice. but it isn't in my Of
flee. It's in my home. You must know.
surely you know how feel.
The girl stopped and drew back from
him IL step. 500, That is why you
have spoken so disparagingly of liy
work. You thought to make it seem
small in my eyes: to show me how lit
tie 1t was worth to myself or to anyone
else" Austin lifted his hand appeal
ingly and stepped forward She drew
| back Il pace.
| NO. Don't speak to me. Don't look
at me. She laughed in Il quick. angry
| FASHION. How You must have been
praising yourself as we came along for
your adroitneSs and. above all, for
your charity and your sublime self-sac-
| rifice. Well. you have failed. love
| my work ana shall keep at it in spite
of your thoughtful pity. If / ever mar
| ~ amy man. Mr. james Austin. it will
be because he comes to me in some
other guise than as II home for incon,-
petent ana discouraged actresses"
She ran UP the hotel steps leaving
| him disnayed and almos, cowed by her
contempt and bitter scorr. When he
recovered his power of speech he cursed
| the stage in all the terms of objurgation
at his command and went back to his
Office.
Inc audience at the theater that night
included all the town who were not
bankrupt or hedridden. but ii did not
contain Mr.. James Austin. That gem
tleman sat glOomily at his desk pre-
tending to work.
The play was in the fun swing Of the
third act. The villain had been re-
pulsed by the heroine and was prepar-
ing 10 carry her away to his mountain
iaStnesS. There are no mountain fast
nesses i'm real America. but the exi-
gencies Of the legitimate drama de
nland them for the third act and the
eXigencies must have their way. Miss
Martin stood in the wings near the
stage door. waiting for her cue to 90
on 1t was Il warm night in early fall
and the door was wide Open A knot
or stage hands stood about, some with
III and some without the door. The
sound of hulryng feet outside caught
he! ear. and she turned her head as Il
boy came canning up the street and
stopped Ut ti." door.
whats NJ. buh?" II man inul,ireu
casually. Seem to be in Il hurry"
"Gtt tim" 10 roll Il peanut round the
block for me?" asked a scene shifter.
'Mr. AustinS been shot, The girl |
inside started forward with II low cry |
that no one in the startled group heard |
Austin shot" "When"" who did |
it?"
Don't know. Nobody knows. He |
was settn' at his desk n somebody |
shot i'm through the window n he fell |
over dead quick as that" The boy de-
scribed the editors fall in Il realistic
pantomine. Alice felt the solid earth
reel beneath ter feet. Here eyes were
wide and staring and her heart was
clutched in Il cold grasp. Jim dead. Her
cousin whom she nar known ever since
she had known an ling. The boy who
had carried hsr books and brought he
birds eggs and might Iebbles from the
beach and III the l:Lcr tokens of a
boys affection. Jim. The man who
had been her hero wien he had thrown
up his position on Il great newspaper.
because he held his own convictions
higher than his salary. and buried him
self in this sleepy country town where
he ut least had freedom TO speak OUT
Whit he thought without the fear of Of
Tending some rich advertiser choking
the words in his throat. Jim, Who
had offered her tha, night the love of q
heart that had always hungered for
her. And then at last she knew what
had before been only Il vague m-
spoken possibility, Il shadowy dream of
the future-thal 1t was Jim she had
loved. more than her pride, more than
her profession, more than her life. 1t
was strange that in the midst Of the
pain ana the grief thu, shut her in, the
ealization that she knew her own heart
was very sweet to her.
A touch on her soulder aroused her.
II was the manager. What is the mat
ter? Why don't YOU go on? Hughes
has given you your cue three times
and the house will begin to think there's
wrong"
Yes, she must go ON. Jim WAS dead
and her heart WAS broken. but she must
play her part, The stage is not so
different from real life, after all The
audience never knew that night that
every fibre in the BODY of The actress
whose grace and charm they applaud
ed vociferously, throbbed with keenest
pain for the cousin and lover lying
lead. She said her lines, how she never
inew. The stage was a dim blur i'm her
ayes and the audience Was far beyond
he range of her consciousness The
'urtain Tell arl she found herself in the
my corner pnrtilioned off for the stars
As she changed her
costume for thr street gown her mind
VAS made UP She would see Jim that
hight, at once. His dead body, at least,