The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1910-06-01
THE ULTIMATUM.
BY ANNA YORKE.

course l haven't given up hope of ulti-
mately discovering one, but in the
meantime you and your mother have
to live. Now, Paul Grandson, of the
Empire, told me this morning that he
needs another soprano in his chorus,
and I thought perhaps-you-" he
hesitated.
Shirley's eyes opened wide in con-
sternation.
N"Oh, Mr.. Wendall, I could never
do it," she exclaimed with a sharp
intake of breath. "a chorus girl!
Why, mother would die if she thought
I had to support her that way" She
turned her head away to hide the
tears which she felt were imminent.
But. Miss Thomas, there is really
no other way. The salary, SIS a
week, will, I am sure, mean many
comforts for you and your mother
which your small income from the
estate does not at present permit you
to enjoy. And, as I said, it will only
be for a comparatively short time, as
I mean to work hard to place you
where your voice warrants your being
placed. Besides, you will not have
to know any of the others you do not
care to know. Your mother will still
be free, in my estimation, to cherish
her family traditions, and, really,
there is no al why you should
consider yourself a discredit to those
traditions if you consent to sing at
the Empire" He spoke persuasively,
but the tenets of a Puritan ancestry
were too deeply rooted in Shirley's
mind to permit of an unrebelling &C
quiescence. She shook her head.
"No, it is impossible. Even if I
should contemplate it, mother would
never let me do it." She turned to
him impulsively. please do not
think me ungrateful, Mr.. Wendail.
You understand-don't you?"
He took her o~utstretched hand,
smiling whimsically as he noted it's
tininess. my dear little friend" he
said to her. Then-"As a favor I
am going to ask you to give this mat
ter a little thought tonight, and to
come to me tomorrow with your de-
cision. Surely. he went on, "you
know that I would not advise you to
do what I did not consider was best?
Please promise me that you will con-
slider It,"
Shirley met his earnest gaze, then
her own faltered a little and. she tried
hard to choke back the lump which
had risen in her throat. After a
while, 81 promise" she half whis-
pered. and was gone.
When she reached home she went
up to her room feeling that she could
not hear just then her mothers in
evitable. What did Mr.. Wendall
have to say, dear?" and racking her
brains to invent an answer that would
not bring pain to the one she loved
best in the world. Bitterly she
thought of the discomforts her moth
er, who was an invalid, had been
compelled by their poverty to endure.
For herself Shirley cared little, know
ing that she was young and strong
and of a buoyant temperament. Yet
the knowledge of Robert Wendall's
failure, even though he had assured
her it was a temporary one, to Sc
cure a suitable engagement for her,
had come as a crushing ~disappoint-
ment. For years, when their income
had been sufficient to warrant it, she
had trained her voice, one which her
instructors had told her was of ez-
ceptional quality. At first their
praise had meant nothing to her, but
when, two years before, the crash
had come which had left them poor,
she had chung to the thought of her
voice as their only salvation. With
it she. would retrieve their little for
tune, she had told herself happily,
and the dear mother would not have
to suffer hardship for long when she
was so we'll fitted to care for her.
Mrs. Thomas had demurred even
at the idea of Shirley singing in
opera, but she had been finally won
over by Mr.. Wendall's eloquence and
Shirley's coaXing. Shirley remem-
bered with mixed feelings the day the
gentle lady, herself as rigid in her
ideas as her great-grandmother was
reputed to have been, had capitu-
lated, and how, when Shirley had
painted her future so glowingly, she
had at last become almost enthusias-
tic in her shy way. And now came
this other proposition, and a Thomas
was to be a chorus girl. Shirley
shuddered involuntarily at the
thought of the blow it would be tc
her loved one. And yet, as Mr.. Wen
dali had told her, it Vas the only way
the one courageous thing to do.
A cough disturbed her reflections
and running ownstairs, Shirley en-
tered the darkened parior, where hel
mother lay on a oSuch. kneelinS be
side her, she took one OF the n
white hands n her own shaply ones
In the dimness her mother seemed
more frail than usual to the girl, AMI
the delicately chiselled features hat
a pinched look which had never beef
apparent to her before.
At cnce came the question, aske'
in the softest and most musical o
voices. and Shirley was not prepare'
with her answer. In that momen