The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1914-09-24
CHAPTER XII.
The N0Ika.

The VoIks.
A citys electric lights were begin
ming to blaze through the twilight
when Wentworth knocked at the door
of Merry's dressing room.
Comet" cried the actor sharply.
AS Enoch entered he felt throb oil
longing for the old warm friendship
Andrews face paled for moment as
he looked up at his visitor. He nodded
but did not speak. Kelly, who acted
as Merry's valet during his prosperous
seasons, lifted a heap of garments
from a chair and set it before Enoch
who took It In silence. Andrew sat
staring into a mirror while he ex-
perimented with a makeup for the
broken-down convict In the third act
He dashed line after line into his face
blending each lightly into the grease
paint. Nobody spoke-even Kelly
seemed to have fallen under the spell
of quiet. He knelt on the floor polish
ing shoes with stolid industry. Enoch
wondered curiously what the keen old
Irishman was thinking. He had known
nothing between them but most fra
ternal friendship. The silence became
oppressive. At last Wentworth spoke
"Are you going to be alone soon
Merry? want to have talk with you
about business"
Andrew did not look up while he an.
swered carelessly, I'LL be alone in a
few minutes. Kelly has an errand tC
do at the tailor's. You may go now
he added, nodding to the valet; there's
no hurry about the shoes"
When the old man shut the door be.
hind him Andrew did not turn his
gaze from the mirror The reflection
of Wentworth's face was close beside
his own. He could see that his visitor
was i'll at ease.
"Well?" he said interrogatively.
Cant you turn round and face me
while we talk?" asked the elder man
impatiently.
Andrew wheeled about and his eyes
met Wentworth's calmly. Certainly
I can face you"
The red surged into Enoch's face
then hard lines wrinkled about his
mouth. His mood had changed. He
spoke with brutal consciseness.
Oswald and ! have decided that
there ought to be few changes made
in the text of-the play"
"Of your play" corrected Merry.
There is one weak point in IT,
Enoch went on deliberately. MRS.
Esterbrook' draws on the sympathy
of the audience for a few moments
when 'Cordelia' leaves her. A woman
of that caliber could have no such feel.
ing"
MOI"
NO" Wentworth repeated the word
almost furiously. He began to twist
his hands.
"I suppose that act ought to be re-
written"
mot rewritten. simply elaborated
Strike out some lines, put in others. y
why don't you do it?"
why don't 1 do it?" Enoch jumped
to his feet shaken by a sudden impulse
of rage. That's nice question to ask
me-"
1T has never seemed to me there
was anything particularly nice in the
whole situation" Andrews tones
were on calm level.
Well leave that out Of the question
altogether" growled Wentworth. 81
should never have intruded upon you
but for this reason. You can see the
exigencies Of the case. You've got to
retouch the play"
Il will not lay pen to the play
Andrew turned as II the conversation
were at an end and began to pencil
careworn wrinkles on his cheeks.
Enoch tipped his chair back against
the wall, put his feet on the rungs, and
began to think. Nobody knew so well
as he that one faced barricade with
Merry in a doggedly obstinate mood
Inwardly he was at white heat; the
blind cropping hope for reconciliation
was at an end; still he knew il he
ever needed diplomacy it was now II
he were to precipitate a storm, Mer
~ was capable of finging over his
engagement at the last moment.
Let me explain" began Wentworth
laboriously. A tap at the door inter
rupted him. It was opened and Os
wald stepped in. He seated himself
on the edge of trunk.
Have you mentioned to Mr.. Merry
the suggestion / made about the sec
ond act?" he asked, turning to Went
worth.
1--WE were discussing it when you
came in"
What do you think Of it, Merry?"
Il really have not had time to give
it thought" Andrew looked unin
terested. Besides, you know I do moi
come into that act and have scarce
ly seen it rehearsed." He picked up
towel and began to wipe the makeup
off his face.
s'It is simply this. Mrs. Esterbrook
is an utterly heartless woman. Deat
to conscience as she is at the begin
ming. she comes out Of her life's trag
edy calloused beyond all redemption
1t strikes a false note to have her re
pent for even second. She does moi
know what mother-love or love Of any
sort means. With her last exit shC
ought to leave an audience hating ant
despising her. Now one feels sud
den touch of sympathy. She must be
irredeemably bad. Then, too, 1t is MOI
only true to the woman's character
but 'Cordelia' shines whittier against it.
Merry nodded. you're right, fancy