Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-09-11


eyes rolling tragically. He had re-
hearsed his new song and now he tried
| it out at the close of his act. 1t was
one of those new coon songs and was
called II Guess I'll Have to Telegraph
My Baby" 1t was the type of plain
tive comic that preceded the jazz
blues Of today He had no more of a
! singing voice than Sally. But he had
a plaintive tonal quality and a melo-
dious resonance that caught and held
! you. He got two extra curtains on it,
| thus cutting in on Sallys time. She
| did not resent this. though. When
he came off he apologized.
| why, say. / didn't go for to crab
your act, Miss Sally. Why, say
wouldn't have done that for the world
| Why, say He was incoherent,
| agonized.
! Sally, set to go on, looked up at him.
| No girl of experience would have
1 shown unconsciously the look that
| Sally turned upon him. Certainly her
mother had never seen that look in
her eyes. Her face was sparkling, ami
mated, glowing. Dimples flashed
| where dimples had not been. In that
| look you saw pride in the achievement
| of some one else-some one for whom
she cared. She even said it.
Don't be silly! I'm proud of you
| Glad you stopped the show" And
went on.
If Ma Quail had been there, it would
| have taken the house manager, the
stage hands, firemen. ushers and door
man to hold her.
Ma Quail in her bedroom had impa.
tiently endured five days away from
! the theater. The nurse left always al
/ Or
| lay there Tuning she was racked by a
| feeling of unrest of danger to Sally.
| She had had that feeling before and
| nothing had come Of it. 1t was due.
| of course, to her unwholesome absorb
| ton in the girl, though she would not
| have admitted this even if she had
recognized it as being true.
| The feeling grew, took complete pos
session of her. She could endure it no
| longer. Trembling and dizzy, she
! dressed shakily, catching at chairs and
| tables for support. She took a car.
riage to the theater. Sick as she was
she seemed to take on new strength as
! she shifted the theater smell. For
years it had been incense in her nos
| trils. Sally would be almost ready to
go on. now that her act had been
| shifted to a spot down on the BILL She
turned the knob of Sally's dressing
room door. She opened the door softly,
softly. so as to surprise her Sally.
Sally Quail, with her head thrown
back, was looking into the eyes of
Jimmy Nixon of the Dancing Nixons.
Nixon's arms were close about her.
Sally's mouth was tremulous-the lips
| of q woman who knows that she is
about to be kissed. 1t was kiss she
never received.
81 love you, Sally" said Nixon.
And "Oh, love you. too" said Sally
Quail. Her voice was a breath, a
whisper.
There was something terrible, some
thing indecent about Ma Quails ruth
less tearing apart of these two young
things.
Get out of here" She slammed the
| door, advanced menacingly. She actu-
ally seemed about to strike him. Get
| out of here, you--you cheap hoofer,
you. Get out, or I'll have you thrown
outr' She turned to the girl. You
TOOL You little fool"'
| NIXON unclasped the girl. but he
still held her hand in his. AS al
ways, under emotion, he spoke the
slow and drawing tongue Of the born
Kansan.
You can't talk thataway to us,
ma am"
| Sally said nothing. Her face was
| white and drawn and old. The sight of
| it whipped Ma Quail into fresh fury.
Cant" she spat out in a whisper
. that had all the vehemence of a
scream. "I'll can't you! Get out of
| here, you bum. you! I'll have you
thrown out of the circuit. I'll fix it
so you'll never show in any decent
| house again. TIL Unconsciously
| she used term she had heard some
where in cheap melodrama - ''I'll
break you!"
|. He grinned at that. He took step
toward her, drawing the frightened
girl with him. Come on, Sally" he
said quietly. Come on out of here. !"
I'm afraid" whispered Sally. I'm
afraid. Where?"
"You know" he said. What we
were talking about. Nixon and
Quail"
But at that, of course, Ma Quail
tainted for the first time in her life.
And, when she had been revived. she
insisted that she was dying. Nixon
had been sent out of the room, and
they took off her stays, and rubbed
her hands. and gave her whisky. and
she rolled her eyes, and groaned, and
made Sally promise. over and over,
that she would never see Nixon again.
1t was her dying wish. She was dy.
ing. Sally had killed her. And, of
course. Sally promised, racked by self
reproach. And that was the end of
that, and, every one will admit, good
thing for Sally.
Sally probably forgot all about it
in later years. Curiously enough, she
never would talk about it, even TO her
mother. And, though the prince her
mother was expecting never came,
practically everything else did. Fame,
and fortune, and popularity. and
friendship. A house in London.
house in New York. an apartment in
Paris. Private trains. Under her in.
domitable mothers shrewd manage
ment, she became polished, finished
exquisite in her art. though she man.
aged. somehow, miraculously. to re-
tain something of her girlishness and
simplicity and lovableness to the end.
Still, sometimes if you glimpsed the
two driving on Fifth Avenue, or in
the Bots you wondered about Sally.
You saw them in one of those foreign
cars that are almost all engine One