The Press., 1911-01-11

 be said to have forgotten her. He had been told that he would get certain royalty, that the play would have a most adequate production, that he would have his choice of actors, etc. When, however, he got down to details with his manager, or, as he learned to call him afterward, his producer, he found that his wings were clipped at almost every point Not only once, but half a dozen times, he almost felt that the game was not worth the can dle, that he would throw it up and that all the allurement that there was in producing a play was in the after math. It was very splendid, as he f1g- ured out one night in his lonely cham Der, to be a successful dramatist, but how many can frankly tell of the deg radations that they have gone through to have some low browed financial per son step in and say, You must change this'' or "You must change that;" to have a stage manager who had grown callous handling electrical and super numerary effects tell him that his great scene was surely a failure because he did not do things according to the rulesi
 In the midst of this he received little blue note from Miss Fullerton. 1t was very formal and simply asked him if he would not do them the honor of spending a week end at Lenox. It referred in no way to their previous conversations, and in it was this state ment: My father and my Aunt Corne- lia are particularly anxious that you accept this invitation"
 It came as a great relief in more ways than one. He had grown tired of the sordid. lying atmosphere in which he was; he was particularly anx- ious to see the girl that he loved, and he was not a little elated at the idea that he would get out of the sphere in which he felt perfectly at home, but for which he had not thoroughly, un- diluted admiration.
 He dropped in to see Markham, the manager. the afternoon that he re- ceived the message.
 Some friends of mine," he said, have invited me to spend week end at Lenox. I am going up this after noon.''
 Markham, who had underestimated him most of the time, raised his high brow and sighed.
 '"Then you have friends somewhere" he said, smiling.
 And in Lenox," replied Holcomb.
 If you want this play produced" said Markham, you will have to give mn 1vorr fdaa fha4 v0u aop pfob tho east. I am the greatest picker of casrs .rau ever saw" And the man became reahy- sincere or apparently so. II have been picking casts for twenty years, and I have made my great success in that direction. I will pay you the royalties that you want, and will let you have your own way about the production. but won't sign any contract that enables you to say who will be in the cast and who won't"
 It was the first time that Markham had been as sincere and as genuine as he was now. The mere fact that he had got him to that point gave Hol- comb new strength.
 'I tell you. MT. Markham, that the royalty proposition and the production aroposition are not as important in my play as is the cast. We both agree that Ludlow is to star, but if he can't have the woman that I have picked for the leading feminine role the play does not go on. My address will be Lenox." And he stood up and walk ed out of the office, leaving the aston ished manager wondering what had come over him.
 As he stepped off the train at Lenox he was met by Professor Fullerton's footman and was handed a telegram, which read:
 Willard Rolcomb Care Fullerton, Lenox,
 Mass:
 If you feel you must have Miss Fuller ton sign her up immediately. Ludlow has convinced me. MARKHAM.
 In the phaeton was Dora herself, but there was a little uneasiness in Holcomb's mind as he shook hands with her. He would rather that he had not received that telegram. He would rather that the fact that she was to appear as the star in his play should be purely on account of his in- sistence and not owing to the fact that Ludlow had approved of her.
 On her side the greeting was none the less cordial, and when she told him that Vavin was at the house he cheered up considerably, for it seemed to him that if he had struck the snag that he scented this always more or less Mephistophelean character, with his kindly, protective attitude over Dora. would be able to clear it up.
 While he had known that Professor Fullerton was a man of some means, | 1t was rather a surprise to Holcomb | to find that he lived in luxury It was l unostentatious luxury at that, purely l The room into which he was ushered | had the colors and the decorations | which he would have picked himself | He felt little sense of fiattery when | he found that in the bookshelf in his | room there were the collected works | of Vavin. both in French and English, | the latter part of which he resented. | On the dressing table was a volume | of Jules le Mattress early poetry and | alongside 1t a pocket edition of Elmer sons Essay on Compensation" Had | he dressed the room himself he could | not have done better.
 Coming from this atmosphere of | ease and hospitality, it was a distinct | shock as he sat down to dinner to find | a social atmosphere so frigid. Three | or four times Vavin introduced the f subject of the thcater. Dora and Hol- comb always vivid listeners. But never would the conversation get a start but Aunt Cornelia would interrupt for the purpose of in- jecting some ethical and always chill Ing proposition to the effect that T don't like the theater," or, apropos of acting, "I never met an actress and don't want to meet one," or How do Tho rNonxs oro, h1Vr.es live