Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1925-09-27

1
New York"
Much as it annoyed Mabel to be pur-
sued by this reputation, she had in
vited pursuit. The cold lash Of rain
| struck her cheek as she stepped Off
| the bus on her return from her fifth
half hour with Pietro Cenci. She was
| healthily hungry and yet out Of the
mood for the porcelain glitter of an
| automat or Childs or the decaying
candle light of those garrets, cellars,
Red Horses, tea shoppes and grottoes
| in which the three of them had
| snatched food out of the mouths of
the battling pack since she became the
millionaire boarder. Her own need for
something clean and fresh and savory,
| eaten In quiet room. was the inspira-
ton OF the purchases with which she
was laden as she struggled with her
bundles and her umbrella.
Let me help" said Lorillard Nor.
CAMS voice. In her six weeks In New
York she realized that few voices had
made this request. She smiled at her
rescuer.
II suppose must tip you" she said.
Wont you ask me to dinner?" he
begged. do my eyes deceive me, or
is that eggplant"
TT was a homelike scene on which
Margie made her entrance an hour
| later. Tho kitchen table before the
blazing hearth stood ready for the food
whose odors came FROM the three
burner gas plate. Lorillard Morgan
was beating potatoes, adding cream
and butter at Mabel's direction. She
was attending to something in cas-
serole and the proper seasoning Of a
thick little steak. By the time Pinky
had come everything was ready. The
something in the casserole turned out
| to be the eggplant that Lorillard Nor
gan had indeed seen.
Real meat" gasped Margie over
| the steak later. And what did you
put in that casserole
Just pinch of something" said
Mabel. Everything was exactly right.
The eggplant was not merely egg
plant. The potatoes were not, Loril-
lard Morgan told her. pommes de
terre. but pommes de ciel. The little
rolls were hot clear through. The
dish Of Autumn fruits in the center of
the table and the clear amber of Ma
bells afterdinner coffee made the per-
feet dessert. In deep content the four
gorged and relaxed. grew warm and
happy
Outside the wind drove spiteful fur
ries OF rain against the windows. and
the loud drip sounded from the caves
Of the brick building that was their
! rear view.
Sing TO u.s." begged Margie Ma
bel sat down at the rented piano.
First she gave them one or two of the
new French group on which Pietro
Cenci had launched her. Then. with a
sense of homecoming, she sang the
aria from Butterfly" then The Ro.
sary," followed by The Land of the
Laughing Water"
You didn't close your eyes" she
reproached Lorillard Morgan.
How could II" he asked.
His eyes persisted in obtruding
| themselves between her and the let
ter she wrote TO Herbie the next morn
ing. 1t was letter telling him that,
instead OF a Metropolitan debut this
year. Ptetro Cenci advised a concert
debut in Lorelei Hall. She would
the critics. Musical New York would
be present instead Of the society rab-
BILE.
His reply came just after Pietro
Cenci had more fully outlined the de-
tails of the Lorelei Hall debut. It
could be managed. he had said. for
about twelve hundred dollars. Mabel
had heard him. appalled,. And yet that
night at the dinner to which LorilIard
Morgan had asked her he told her
that it was not too much.
Fame" he said. pushing aside the
pink-shaded candlestick that they
might talk more directly across their
little table, is a calculating Jade. OF
course. In the end. all the money in
the world doesn't accomplish anything
II the essential ingredient isn't there"
What Is that" she asked.
Excellence" he said briefly. Nerve
gets you a long way. Money gets you
a long way. But If you arrive. you
can be pretty sure you're good"
The waiter brought them something
steaming and savory.
This SOUP he told her. Is more
or less famous for that very reason
she said, that it needs just a pinch
of something
There are thousands of tragedies
In this town." he went on. Young
people come on here with an infinite
belief in themselves-and an infinite
ignorance. They think they will make
their flight to the stars In about Is
minutes. Thousands Of them go un-
der. Some of them starve. They don't
all have a bank account behind them.
as you have. You can afford to wait"
She thought that the eyes search
ing her had in them something Of
warning. But she was to learn much
before the waiter brought back the
silver remaining from the $40 bill that
Lorillard Morgan laid upon his plate.
She learned, for instance, that he had
written few plays.
when will they be put on?" she
asked, breathless almost as Margie
herself.
Probably never" was his reply.
She told him she couldn't believe that,
when he knew SO many people-F1gli-
one, for instance Editors. Amazingly
he asserted that knowing people
helped very little. Managers did not
produce plays out Of friendship. All
their friends had little plays. like dag
! gers. ready to pull out of their boots
! any time the lights went off. A play,
he told her. like a prima donna, had
/ to be good.
Excellence" he said again. That's
| the magic"
| K X X x
HER own hour made it's winged
| approach. Then, at the end of
March, she saw a line In the musical
announcements for the ensuing week
to the effect that Mabel Innis would
be heard In recital at Lorelei Hall at
3 o'clock on Friday afternoon. Four
! teen other recitals were scheduled for
that week. She had tickets for all
of them. Margie. gasping over the
| wonder and splendor of the event, had
| accepted her package. Pietro Cenci's
| pupils and their friends would have
a representation. The critics would
tiptoe in and out. Herbie and Isabel
| Allison. scheduled to arrive on
Wednesday, would be her guests. The
right costume, the sympathetic &C.
companist, were provided. The groups
OF songs, Italian and French and
| German the aria the English bal.