Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-03-13

cal venture, he had tried to see her
But her flight was from him, as well
as from the rest of what to her seem
ed leering world.
Wherever the English tongue. in
one guiSe or another, was spoken,
Edna Ridgeway had played. Yet she
drifted back to the one city where
the theater holds sway, the one street
where a jargon all it's own feeds the
starved longing of any who have ever
been bubbles in it's endless stream.
Once there she lacked the courage to
look up former associates. Not that
she realized the full extent of the
changes I'm herself. Her sole ac-
Acknowledgement was that the distance
from 1909 to 1925 counted Is years.
She dropped on the bed and shut
her eyes, but without any thought of
sleep. To be so neaS those clustering,
brilliant, thrilling lights that flashed
their signs against the heavens, yet
her name no part. She-Edna Ridge
way!
The trill of the telephone at the
foot of the stairs failed to register
until she heard her name called from
below. She battered down and took
up the receiver. 1t was woman s
voice. For a blind instant she could
not make out the WoroS:
rs this Miss Ridgeway? Can you
come right over to Mr.. Cleeburg's
Officer"
Cleeburg was sending for her!
Cleeburg-little 'Dolph!
She hurried to her room. On her
bureau was bewildering display of
pomades, lotions, powders, rouges.
perfumes. Replenished or augment
ed, frequently at the cost of dinners
for a week, that mass of cosmetics
constituted the one prop of Edna
Ridgeway's hope.
When she left the house 20 minutes
later she looked as though she had
used them all. Paint lay thick on
her lips: powder caked over the dabs
of rouge on her cheeks; mascara
framed her eyes. Poor, pathetic at
tempt at youth that made sign
post of her age.
Yet, as she entered Cleeburg's office
the manager, who knew his people of
the theater, greeted her as If there
had been no change since the yester-
day of 16 years ago.
well, well, Edna! He reached out
both hands. when did you blow in?"
The middle of July. Didn't you know
/ was here?"
She chung to the grasp of old friend
ship.
Hadn't an idea, until Freddie Lane
told me an hour ago that you'd be
just the woman L, want for a play
I'm casting"
He gave no hint of the agents exact
words: "Say-I've got just the woman
for that part. Edna Ridgeway! She's
back, you know-a burlesque of what
she used to be---looks a thousand, and
gets herself up like chicken. Down
and out, too-needs the work"
Cleeburg, smiling into her eyes, gave
not the least sign of the shock in his
soul.
Edna tried to make her answering
smile light and careless.
IT'S good of you to send for me
straight off. Plenty of new ones in
the field since l left it,"
But the old ones are still in the
heart, Edna. Couldn't wait to give
you the glad hand, once 1 knew you'd
come back"
And about that part" she prompted,
still smiling as If quite casually.
"Oh, yes" He took a script from
his desk and held 1t out to her.
She glanced at the title, Knee
Deep" Then down the typewriter
page of characters. 1t was a small
cast.
II suppose I play Mrs. Webster
Mo" He turned his eyes from
hers. That's not much-no oppor-
tunities. I'm casting you for Grand
ma Webster. It's a WOW, girl-a
laugh a minute"
She started up from her chair. A
grandmother! How dared he! Her
first inclination was to repeat the
performance of 16 years ago in this
same room. A grandmother! The
mere offer was an insult.
h Then bit by bit, furious indignation
gave way to necessity. She must come
back. She must have work. Not so
much that it meant three square
meals day and decent surroundings.
but, more insistent still. for the urge
that calls to the actors heart from
the heart of Broadway. To feel her
feet on the boards of a New York
theater once more.
And so she folded her trembling
hands over the manuscript.
Tell me about it," she said.
1.-The f1apper- grandmother, short
dress, bob, high heels. See? She
has the mites of the play-all the
snappy lines. Steals her granddaugh-
ter's beau. Great stuff-youll love
itw Still he did not meet her gaze.
"You honestly think / could play
grandmother, 'Dolph?"
This kind, yes! OF course. /
wouldn't offer you an ordinary old
lady part, you understand"
"Of course"
Her own gaze strayed then. Delhi
erately, awkwardly, the man and the
woman avoided facing each other.
Come in tomorrow morning. I'll
have the contract ready. Two hun
drad that q ~
"Of course, it's not what I've been
used to-" Her pride spoke the stereo-
typed phrase she had used at each
signing of contract these past years.
as her salary went down. Fifty dol
lars a week would have seemed a
fortune.
81 know that" he said hastily. ''If
the plays a go, we'll jump 1t. But
we've got such an expensive cast
"Oh, that's all right. 'Dolph." Fear
made her voice eager. you and l
won't talk terms. Do you mind if l
take the play with me? l want to
look it over"
They exchanged a few words about
old friends-gay, laughing questions
on her part, as If time had merely
passed an instant. But Jim Ridge
ways name was not mentioned. Then
she held out her hand.
"Well, 'Dolph, nightie-night! Imagine
me playing grandma. 1t will be
great experience"
And she went out, swinging her
bag, a gay little song on her lips.
X X y
UK NEE DEEP" played Stamford
~ and Atlantic City. The weeks
of rehearsal were joy to Edna Ridge
way, glimpse of heaven. She was
in harness again.
She studied, worked, worried,
struggled over every shade of intona-
ton. The third day she was letter
perfect, not realizing the up-to-date
method of learning the sense of the
tines before they are themselves