The Birmingham age-herald., 1916-01-16
1915, by Mcclure Publications
CHAPTER 1. The New Star.

ne New Star.
 "HE voice of the stage director,
 shrill with exasperation, be-
 came suddenly distinct as
 Mary opened the door of her dressing room. "Old Gex," as they called him, was on his usual "dress rehearsal rampage" and she smiled.
 The raucous voice, now vituperative now satiric in assumed pleading, came in tonal waves as the director stormed up and down the centre aisle amid the shadows, while on the stage the players themselves strove, with unconsciously comic grimaces, to shield their eyes sufficiently to see over the faring footlights as they listened to his tirade.
 'Take that scene over!" he shouted at last. Craig, begin your entrance cue. Now And NORA-where's Is NORA?"
 Mary drew back with little tremu- lous sigh of content, and, laying a caressing hand on the canvas battle ments of a towering castle, drew in a deep breath of the conglomerate odors.
 It was all so familiar; so much a part of her life! And yet it seemed only yesterday that she had stood in much the same fashion in the wings, ' shabby and unknown, her lips dry and her hands like ice, waiting for her re- hearsal.
 It had not, after all, been so very many years since that day, but they had been long ones full of disillusion- nent and hard work. Yet to Mary, looking back at them through the glamour of their fruition, they seemed very happy years leading up to the happier present; for tonight the great flaring letters of the electric sign would proclaim to all the world that Mary Page was-a start Not the star of a second rate road troupe or a stock company, but a Broadway star in the exclusive Covington Theatre, that ultima thule of the young actress.
 For a moment the players blurred before her eyes, and her lips quivered with an emotion deeper than tears, but the sound of familiar phrase brought her sharply to herself. Her cue had sounded, and she gave a last little feminine twitch to her costume and tripped lightly out upon the stage.
 She had forgotten that she had been in the theatre since nine o'clock that morning.; the endless repetition of scene and act that had set every nerve dangling slipped from her like a dream, and she remembered only that she was NORA, playing the last splendid act of the drama she loved. And at the first sound of her voice, so bravely gay, the tired players were suddenly galvan- ized into action. Some part of her radiant joy seemed to filter into their own souls, and dropping shoulders were lifted and dull eyes frightened. new note crept into the witty badinage of the lines, and with sigh of relief the director took out his huge silk hand kerchief and mopped his brow.
 They've got it! he muttered to the two other men who stood, indistin- guishable shadows among shadows. "She puts the punch into 1t all right"
 "Gex is right mumbled the shorter of the two. We're going to make a few trust managers look sick with this play. You wait-if you're from Mis- souri,"
 "Oh, the play!" sneered his com panion. "The play is rot. It's Mary Page that gets it over.'
 well, I'll grant you that too," ac- quiesced Daniels in some haste, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. "She can sure deliver the goods every time. You didn't think I was trying to hand HER anything, did you?"
 But David Pollock didn't answer He was leaning over the seat in front staring at that gay little figure in its quaint costume his eyes full of brood ing tenderness, his ears alert not to miss a single tone in that clear young voice.
 For to Pollock, Mary stood as the epitome of all that was lovely and desirable. Her youth, her vivacity and perhaps most of all the flower-like innocence of her filled him with a tumultuous desire to win her; to give her the world for a plaything if she wanted it; to fill her little hands with riches and jewels if they pleased her but to have her-for himself.
 Young though she was, there was al ways little wistfulness in her ex- pression that added to her beauty Il was as if some far-off sorrow ha6 never been forgotten. David wondered if she was really happy today. Ostensibly a wine merchant, Pollock's financial interests thrust their steely tentacles into hundred different en- deavors, not the smallest of which was the theatrical world. It was a say. ing that what Dave Pollock wanted he got, and heaven help the man tha stood between; but back of his wan of Mary lowered an intangible doub and-When ho was sober-the bigger question of his own worthiness; ant now as he stood watching her the harsl lines of his mouth and chin softenet and there was an unfamiliar note il his voice as he said musingly: T wonder what she'll say when sh, hears I've backed her to the limit that I bought her stardom for her Has she asked about that side of it? 'No," said Daniels, little nervously She's such little kid about som' things she sort of takes it all fo granted. But see here, Dave, don you go tellin' her today. Stars. tn, best of 'em. are temperamental as th