The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1914-06-04

| Win some one
knew what was coming before h;
said 1t. I clasped my hands tight to
gether to keep me from crying, ant
my feet felt numb and cold. I was
horribly, awfully afraid Of him, ant
yet / had the most dreadful inclina
ton to pat down his hair where he
had rumpled 1t up in the back
Now. Miss Eleanor" he said. turn
ing round and facing me, "Ill tell you
why | want to talk to you. You are
looking Ill and tired; what would the
little mother say to me?"
That was the worst thing he could
nave said. l choked up In minute
and put my head down on the back OF
my chair.
'I-k-know | can't act!" 5obbed
But It's mean to put 1t off on moth
er!"
You can act" he said very gently
That's the trouble. In fairness to
you, I'll have to tell you that. But
It's hard life and-I want you TO
give 1t up. You're too young, and
you've been too much sheltered to
I'm twenty-one, Mr.. Cunningham,
broke in defiantly. Even grown
people get the humps I'm not a
child: I'm as old as-the girl in that
picture"
| rushed out then, and in the first
act, where l have the scene with my
guardians wife, burst into real tears
at the end and got curtain-call. |
was very unhappy; there were num-
Der of things-but it doesn't matter.
One thing was certain-I hated Mr..
Cunningham,
| was quite i'll for a day or two at
home. Then, nothing terrible occur.
ring, | tried to put the whole thing
out of my mind and to forget that
my theatrical career had died Of the
mumps. But the day before the New
York opening heard Ella admit some
one. | had just time to slip picture
| had been looking at, under some of
ing when he came in. 1t was Mr.,
Cunningham
| shook hands with him and tried
10 hide the basket with his picture
and the stockings Mr.. Cunningham
did rot sit down. He stood by the
fire and looked down at me severely.
You're a bad child" he said at
last, "a runaway. What made you
do it, Eleanor"
Il had to-" l pleaded. 1T was too
dreadful-every one getting sick and
blaming it on me, Won't you take off
your overcoat and-and have some
tea?"
/ was quite breathless with excite
ment and reaction, and was still ter
ribly afraid of him. My hands shook
so that l could hardly pour the tea.
He dropped into chair and looked
around.
"Jove, what thing 1t is to be in a
real home again!" he said. looking
very human indeed with his feet out
before him. Il always pictured you
doing something like this-tea and
mending-instead of roaming around
the country with a theatrical COM
pany."
| gave him his tea. squeezing a bit
of lemon in. and then-suddenly-
clapped his hand to his left ear, and
| knew it had come. He waited until
he could speak, and then all he said
was Good Lord"
He looked at me helplessly. There
were only two things | could do
laugh or cry. l had cried so much
that now | aughed-laughed while |
knew that there would be no New
York opening; laughed while the
great Mr. Cunningham glared at me;
laughed until he looked injured and
then got over it and laughed himself
Welt" he said, when we both
dried our eyes and got our breath.
81 never expected to laugh over a
tragedy like this. You make me do
anything you want, Eleanor"
"Oh, | hope you won't be very ill.,"
I said quickly.
But / shall be; I'm sure to. l al
ways have things hard" he replied.
getting up and coming over to me.
Il took you very hard indeed, Eleanor
| don't care anything about The Pill
| lars of Society | only know | want
my little ward again. Eleanor, the
day you left was wild. | cant act
| cant live without you, dear Why,
see-you've put your mark on me-"
| When he said that, what could do?
Anyhow, | forgot completely that this
was the greatest tragedian of his time.
All | knew was that he was lonely
and that well, that | didn't hate
him. He crushed me to him-I'll ad-
NIT that, but Anne told it as a great
| Joke, when the engagement was an,
nounced, that as she came into the
| hall she heard me say:
"Of course you may. I'm not afraid
I've had them!"
| Copyright. by the Frank A. Munsey Coz