The Press., 1920-03-25

ped her.
 GO back and bow and take your ancore." he said. "You've made good; don't you hear them? Go back and pick up your money" Shaking with revulsion, fighting hard to keep down hysteria. she turned again. bowed right and left, and sang again-and again the crash of hand clapping
 "Pick mp your money" called friend ly voices. "Pick it up, take your time, get it all; it's yours; it belongs to you :; don't be bashful." She picked up the money till her hands were full, and, taking a hint from poor Barney, she took off her
 shabby little sailor hat and poured the
 coins into it. Then, smiling and crying together, she bowed again and stum-
 bled off
 A strong hand caught her and she heard, all faint and far, the white hussar saying, "Get a drink of water, somebody. Don't you see she's dying?"
 "No, Pm not" said Clarsie. "I'll- | I'll be all right soon." "Guess you will,' said the other.
 "You're all right; first prize for you. | All you wanted was to be woke up | but you'd be there yet, planted, if l | hadn't fired the quarter at you and | got you going.
 Here" she continued, "let me tie l your dough in your handkerchief" "NOt-nOt-that quarter" stammer- cd thot t0 Well" said the white hussar, "Pm going. Good night"
 She gave her a strong handclasp, i and swaggered off.
 Clarsie turned to boy in the line
 and asked, "Who is that?' "What,' said he "dOn't you know? ] That's Lola Rivers She owns the show | that was playin' here tonight. She's
 bird; makes ten thousand dollars
 year with her shOw." Through the wet streets Clarsie | stumbled hOmeward, in a dream. The 1 hard bundle of coins she held tightly. | First. at a little oySter-hOuSe, she ate, | breaking fourteen hours fast. Then. 1 to her room. where she counted her
 earnings. Seven dollars and sixty-five | cents, and five dollars first prize, not | much to you, perhaps, who read this, ] but to her the gift of life, of shelter and food for a month to come. | Next day, she met the dragon of the | furnished-room-h without shrink
 ing, and paid her. She still felt weak 1 and sick and remained indoors all day | to rest.
 As dusk was falling there came a stately step up the rickety stairs and | knock at her door.
 Gan I come in?" asked a voice that she knew well, though heard for the first time the night before She opened the door, and, all tremu- | lous with timid gratitude, she ushered | Lola Rivers into her room. If Lola had looked tall in her hus- sar dress, she looked taller in the little room Her head seemed almost to 1 touch the ceiling. Her presence seemed l to fill the mean room with light and ! warmth. She was magnificent and ar rayed like the lilies of Solomon. She sat on the edge of the bed. | looked long at Clarsie, and said: "You made good last night You've | got the voice, and know how to use it. l Good singing is always a paying act. | and all you need is to learn acting and dancing, and that I'll teach you 1 myself I'll take chance on you, and l take you out with me, and pay you | yes-I'll pay you twenty-five week | this season, and if you don't get the | swelled head and are willing to learn. | there's no reason why, in two years, you shouldn't be on Broadway. All my | girls get there in time. What do you say?'
 What did Clarse say? If Mansfield | said to a supe: You shall support me | next season." If Kipling said to you My boy, that's a good story of yours will you cOllabOrate with me?" What would be the reply? Well, then, you | know what ClarSie said. That is all, except, that if you doubt | this to be true, when next you go to l see a certain young star who has had I rapid and amazing success, look at | her closely, and you will see that she wears around her neck a fine gold | thread, on which there hangs a silver