The Liberal democrat. [volume] (Liberal, Kan.) 1911-1924, 1914-04-24
PINK LINEN FROCK
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ex DOROTHY ok.


Isles," Lorraine Torrance going to
leave the stage m the midst of the big
gest Broadway success in years? Is
she crazy, or what?"
"She is a woman" replied the man.
ager, succinctly, as If that explained
everything. He glanced around the
little office whose walls were literally
covered with the photographs OF
actresses-prima donnas, tragedy
queens, eccentric old women in COM.
edy parts, dashlng soubrettes, wistful-
eyed engelues-and sighed. He had
had much experience OF the ways of
women.
Such voice., went on the Angel.
goomily reminiscent, always made
me think of birds singing in golden
dawn, or-er-ersomething like that, you
know, 1t was so full of the Joy of
living Then her gaiety and humor-
so spontaneous, so fresh, and that lit
tie way she had, so demurely wicked,
by George, 1t was about the most
fetching thing l ever saw"
1T takes a saint to play the devil"
commented the manager. grimly.
"And to think of her being fool
enough to throw everything up right
now" continued the Angel, why, she's
got success-it's in her very hand"
WELL" observed the manager, IF,
when Heaven gives woman tempera-
ment 1t would also endow her with
little reason, it would have saved me
from becoming bald so early In life,
and would have made the show busi-
ness a safer and more agreeable occu-
patton"
what does she say?" inquired the
Angel.
The manager fished a letter out
from under pile on his desk, and be-
gun to read aloud: Sorry she can't
renew her contract with us, but she Is
going to leave the stage. Hopes 1t
won't disappoint us, and that we will
have no trouble in finding substitute
for her in The Queen but she's
| found out that there's something bet
ter than the tinsel of the stage, and
more worth striving for than fame and
money"
wish she'd tip me of to what 1t
is," put in the Angel, parenthetically.
''In short" continued the manager,
summarizing the lengthy letter, 'she
has determined to leave the stage,
and stay at home with hubby-you
know that in real life she is Mrs.
James Benton-and darn his socks
and cook his dinners"
where Is she?" asked the Angel.
"Oh," responded the manager, at
some little iron mine down in Ala
bama, where her husband is manager
for a company. It's gay metropolis
that consists Of a company store,
with the post Office in one corner,
and an interesting population Of
thousand negro and italian laborers,
with perhaps two other men beside
her husband who wear collars and
speaks English, and where the excit-
ing event of the day Is the change of
shifts, when the day laborers go off
and the night hands come on. At
least that is the alluring description
that Miss torrance gave me Of the
place when she explained how she
came to leave her happy home for
New York and comic opera"
"She won't stay there" exclaimed
the Angel, bringing his fist down on
the desk with a thump. Good God,
think of a woman like that being
buried alive in such a hole She'll
be back in two months begging for
her old part, and we will make her
pay for giving US this attack Of heart
failure"
Don't count on her too much"
warned the manager, she's a woman,
you know"
While the two men in the little
Broadway office were settling her fate,
the woman Of whom they spoke was
standing on great pile Of Stag, send
Ing her voice out in roulade of song
that silenced, for very shame, the
mocking birds in the nearby clean
ders At last, wearied. she stopped,
and turning to the great ugly bulldog
that crouched at her feet she cried
whimsically:
What, Tige, not round Of APP
plause? Don't you know. sir, that
was my big Broadway hit, and was
good for three curtain calls every
night?" But the faithful dumb anil
NAL only licked her hand by way Of
reply, and with something like sob
she caught her fingers in his collar
and started homeward. 1t was all SO
typical OF her fate, she told herself.
She had wanted fame and glitter and
glare, and she had gotten only dumb
devotion.
Five years before she had married
Jim Benton, who had taken her from
an uncongenial home, where a shrew-
ish and vulgar stepmother had made
life well-nigh unbearable for the girl,
whose nature was as highly strung
and sensitive as a violin. She had
loved, as we'll as her .unawakened
heart could, the big, silent, strong
man, who yearned over her with
ceaseless tenderness, and for awhile
she had been happy enough In the lit