The Washington herald., 1920-11-29

stage wouid see her no more.
Seventeen minuts after Miss Lyn-
nette D'Armande had expressed her
wish to know the whereabouts of
her old chum. there were sharp raps
at her door.
Doubt not that II was Rosaiis
Ray. At the shriil command to en-
ter she did 30. with something Of Q
tired hutter. and dropped q heavy
hand bag on the floor. Upon my
word. IL was Rosalie. In a loose,
travei-stained autornobIiekess coat,
closely tied brown veil with yard
long, dying ends, gray walking suit
and tan oxfords with lavender over
gaiters.
When she threw of her veil and
hat. you saw a pretty enough face,
now flushed and disturbed by some
unusual emotion. and restless. large
eyes with discomfort marring their
brightness. A heavy pile OF dull.
auburn hair. hastily put up. was es-
Gaping In crinkly. waving strands.
and curling. small locks from the
confning combs and pins.
The meeting of the two was not
marked by the effusion vocal, gym
nastical, osculatory and catechet!cai
that distinguishes the greetings of
their unprofessional sisters in socie-
ty. There was q brief clinch, two
Simultaneous labial dabs and they
stood on the same footing of the
old days. Very much like the short
salutations of soldiers or Of travel
ers in foreign wllds are the well
comes between the strollers at the
corners of their criss-cross roads.
I've got the ballroom two flights
-
I same straight to see you before
going UP. l didn't know you were
here till they told me-"
"Tve been in since the last of
April" said Lynnette. "And I'm
going on the road with a Fatal In
heritance' company. We open next
week in Elizabeth. thought you'd
quit the stage. Lee. Tell me about
yourself"
Rosalie settled herself with a skill
full wriggle on the top OF Miss D'Ar-
mande's wardrobe trunk and leaned
her head against the papered wall.
From lonS habit. thus can peripa-
tetic leading ladies and their sis
ters make Themselves as comforta-
HE as though the deepest armchairs
embraced them.
I'm going to tell you. Lynn" she
said. with strangely sardonic and
yet carelessly resigned look on her
youthful face. And then tomorrow
I'll strike the old Broadway trail
again. and wear some more paint
off the chairs in the agents offices.
If anybody had told me any time
in the last three months up to
o'clock this afternoon that I'd ever
listen to that Leave-your-nane
nd ~ he
again, I'd have given 'em the real
Mrs. Fiske laugh. Loan me a hand
kerchief, Lynn. Gee, but those
Long Island trains are-Iierce. I've
got enough soft-coal cinders on my
face to go on and play Topsy with
out using the cork. And. speaking
of corks-Sot anything to drink,
Lynn
Miss D'Armande opened a door of
the washstand and took out a bottle.
There's nearly a pint Of Manhat-
tan. There's a cluster of carnations
In the drinking glass. but fsI
oh. pass the bottle. Save the
glass for company. Thanks That
hits the spot. The same to you. Ny
first drink in three months.
Yes. Lynn, ] quit the stage at the
end OF last season. / quit IL because
| was sick of the life. And especial
ly because my heart and soul were
sick OF men-of the kind Of men We
stage people have to be up against.
You know what the game is to us
its fight against 'em all the way
down the line from the manager
who wants us to try his new motor
car to the bnl-posters, who want to
call us by our front names.
And the men we have to meet
after the show are the worst OF all.
The stage-door kind. and the man
ayers friends who take us to SUD-
per and show their diamonds and
talk about seeing Dan and Dave
and Charlie for us. They're beasts,
and I hate 'em.
Il tell you, Lynn, it's the girls
like us on the stage that ought to
be pitied. It's girls from good
homes that are honestly ambitious
and work hard to rise in the profess
sion, but never do get there. You
hear lot of sympathy sloshed
teen dollars a week. Piffe! There
amt sorrow in the chorus that a
lobster cannot heal.
IF there's any tears to shed. let
em fall for the actress that gets a
salary Of from thirty to forty-five
dollars q week for taking a leading
part in bum show. She knows
she'll never do any better: but she
hangs on for years. hoping for the
chance that never comes.
And the fool plays we have to
work in! Having another girl roll
you around the stage by the hind
legs in a 'wheelbarrow chorus
in musical comedy is digni-
fied drama compared with the idiotic
things I've had to do in the thirty
centers.
But what hated most was the
men-the men leering and blather-
ing at you across tables, trying to
buy you with wurzburger or Extra
Dry. according to their estimate Of
your price. And the men in the
audiences. clapping. yelling. snarl-
ing. crowding. writhing, gloating-
like lot OF wild beasts. with their
eyes fixed on you. ready to eat you
UP IL you come in reach of their
claws. Oh. how hate 'emi
We'll. I'm not telling you much
about myself. am ], Lynn?
Il had two hundred dollars saved
up, and I cut the stage the first of
the summer. went over on Long
Island and found the sweetest lit
tie village that ever was, called
Southport. right on the water. 1