The Jersey City news., 1901-03-09
The personal
Representative. "
A THEATRICAL. STORY.
BY Eaith Sessions Tupper

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81 am certainly growing thin," said Mr..
Alfred Whitman, contemplating himself
ruefully in his mirror; thin and hag-
gard. And, by George! there are crows
feet coming around my eyes,"
He shaved himself vigorously for a
moment, then paused, with razor deli
cately poised in air. "Well, do you won
derY' said be, addressing an invisible
audience. "Do you wonder when you know
what dogs life / lead? The only mar
vel to me is that am not blind and
deaf and dumb and halt and MANNED and
a gibbering idiot and driveling inn
becile."
Having delivered himself Of this state
ment, Mr.. Whitman appeared to grow
a trife less despairing and finished his
toilet without any further outbursts Of
emotion.
He seemed even cheerful as he descend
ed the hotel stairs to his breakfast, but
when his mail was handed to him once
more look of gloom veiled his freshly
shaven ruddy checks.
Now the trouble begins" he mutter-
ed as he hastily tore open a note on
thick blue paper, heavily perfumed and
addressed in big, scrawling fashionable
feminine hand.
LET me see you by 10 o'clock sharp"
it ran. Something must be done to end
these outrages or l shall go mad. II the
systematic arrogance and insufferable
insolence with which am treated are not
stopped at once, | shall break my con-
tract"
Mr.. Whitman sighed.
Next he opened business envelope
with the stamp of a well known theater
in its upper left hand corner and read:
s'Come in tomorrow about II and let
us talk over matters. Your star grows
more diabolic every hour. Something's
got to be done." 1t was signed by the
manager.
Mr.. Whitman groaned.
Mice. pleasant. quiet morning I'm 60
ing to have he murmured as he slipped
his coffee. tsWhRt any sane man ever
goes into the theatrical business for
can't imagine. If could, would go out
now and buy cotton umbrella and then
go and camp out in a country graveyard
for the rest of my life. 1t would be so
much more agreeable and comfortable"
But Mr.. Whitman finished his break
fast and his cigar. enjoying both as long
as possible. Now to face the music"
he said as he set forth to walk up Broad
way to the hotel where the star whose
personal representative he was lived.
On the way he met a prominent man
ager who stopped to greet him. How
are you, Whitman? How's businessT
oI h.
sentative giibly. "House packed last
night. Standing room only"
SIS there any truth in these rumols of
a lively fight between you and the man
agement?"
'sNot the slightest" replied Whitman
unblushingly. "All prompted by envy,
malice and all uncharitableness. Why,
man. who couldn't get on with Miss Law
Sance? She's the sweetest natured, most
amiable woman
ssThat's all right" interrupted the 9TH
er. And then he cooked his eye sIyly and
wickfdly at Whitman. adding: = man
aged her a season. my boy. and I've got a
memory. Ia, ta."
Mr.. Whitman continued his walk, chew
ing the bitter cud of reflection. $50 he's
on" be muttered. sIt won't be long be-
fore all Broadway knows it. She's as
likely to take the bit in her teeth any
minute and bolt as she is to breathe.
Well ! don't much care. She's wearing
me OUT
Mr. Whitman waited in his stars par
lor. From her bedroom he could hear her
voice-that voice of liquid gold" as one
OF the best known of the dramatic critics
had dubbed it--rased in petulant accents.
"She's in bad humor," he said and stared
gloomily into his hat.
Presently the door few open with a
bang, and out rushed cyclone Of pink
silk draperics. gilded hair, kohled eyes
and sulky lips.
.'You were long enough coming" she
snapped ''It's ten minutes past 10 now.
Oh. don't say anything! I'm in no mood
TO be thwarted or contradioaed. You have
got to do something to put an end to these
petty insults of Rutherford's. Ny artis.
tie temperament cannot endure them.
am going to pieces. / tell you. Why
don't you say somcthing?"
"How can I?' he asked. "You told
me to keep still.'
.That was half an hour ego." she re-
torted. .sNow talk, talk"
well, what's the matter nowY' the
personal representative asked.
"ThcrQ you go. talking as if were al
ways complaining. Matter now? Mat.
ter enough. should say. had friend.
in front last evening and sent my maid
out with note. and Rutherford sent in
word must stop it. He-that brute
that beast-am | slave to Rutherford
Ibis prisoner? Or am Estella Law
renee. the finest emotional actress in tht
| country. condescending to play at hi.
miserable gingerbread theater, where h
never before had FIRST class attrac
tion?" A burst of hysteric tears and I
iace edged handkerchief here came intt
play.
well, wen," said whitman soothingly
Now don't, my dear girl. You'll make
yourself i'll. I'll see Rutherford at onct
and have a talk with him and FIX it al
up. But you know no manager allow.
notes back and forth.
II cannot be allowed to communicatt
with my friends, : sobbed the lady. =
might as well SO to 10 to-. jail b
| done with It. 2