Bambi felt the renewed vigour with which Jarvis attacked the final problems of their task. He was working toward the goal of his affections, a meeting with his lady. She, too, felt the strain of the situation, and keyed herself up to a final burst of speed. The middle of February came, bringing the day which ended their labours.
"Well, I believe that is the best we can do with it," Jarvis said.
"Yes, our best best. For my part, I feel quite fatuously satisfied. I think it is perfectly charming."
"I hope the author will be pleased," he said earnestly.
"I'm much more concerned with Mr. Frohman's satisfaction. If he likes it, hang the author!"
"But I want to please her more than I can say."
"You have a great interest in that woman, Jarvis. What is it about her that has caught your attention?"
"It is difficult to say. As I have grown into her book, so that it has become a part of my thought, I have been more and more absorbed in the personality of the woman."
"You told me the heroine was like me—once."
"Did I?" in surprise.
"You've changed your mind, evidently?"
"No-o. Her brilliance is like you."
"But not her other qualities?"
"She seems softer, more appealingly feminine to me, than you do. You have so much more executive ability——"
"You think I'm not feminine?"
"I didn't say that," he evaded.
"Why do you insist upon thinking the author and heroine to be one person?"
"Just a fancy, I suppose. But the book is so intimate that I feel consciously, or otherwise, the woman has written herself into 'Francesca.' "
"You may be approaching an awful shock, my dear Jarvis, when you meet her."
"I think not."
"These author folk! She'll be a middle-aged dowd, mark my words."
He rose indignantly, and put the last sheets of the manuscript away. She watched him, smiling.
"Shall you go to New York to-morrow?"
"Yes, if I can get an appointment by wire. I am going to see about it now."
"I do hope he will be sensible enough to put it on right away."
"He told me to rush it. I think he means an immediate production."
"The end of our work together," mused Bambi.
He turned to her quickly.
"You care?"
"Don't you?"
"It has really been your work, Bambi."
It was her turn to be startled, but evidently he had no ulterior meaning.
"Not at all. I think it is wonderful how well we work together, considering——"
"Considering?" he insisted.
"Oh, our difference in point of view, and, oh, everything!" she added.
"It would disappoint you if it were our last work together?"
"What an idea, Jarvis! I look forward to years and years of annual success by the Jocelyns."
He frowned uncomfortably, as if to speak, thought better of it, and kept silence.
"I'll go send my wire," he said. She kissed her finger tips to his receding back. Later, too, she went to the telegraph office and sent the following wire.
"Mr. Charles Frohman:"See Jarvis, if possible, to-morrow. Play finished. Sure success."FRANCESCA JOCELYN."
"Mr. Charles Frohman:
"See Jarvis, if possible, to-morrow. Play finished. Sure success.
"FRANCESCA JOCELYN."
The secretary answered Jarvis's wire at once, making the appointment at eleven o'clock on the morrow.
"It seems incredible that anything could run as smoothly as this for me," said Jarvis, as he read the dispatch.
"That's because I'm in it," boasted Bambi, with a touch of her old impudence. "I'm your mascot."
"That must be it."
"It means a midnight train for you, to make it comfortably. Do you suppose you will stay more than a day?"
"I should think not. I don't know."
Ardelia came in with a yellow envelope.
"Sumpin' doin' roun' dis heah house. Telegram boy des' a-ringin' at de' do' bell stiddy."
"For me?" said Bambi.
"Mrs. Jarvis Jocelyn, Sunny side, New York."Mr. Frohman will see you at three o'clock to-morrow."
"Mrs. Jarvis Jocelyn, Sunny side, New York.
"Mr. Frohman will see you at three o'clock to-morrow."
Bambi gazed at it a moment, a bit dazed, then she laughed.
"Anything the matter?" Jarvis inquired.
"No-o. Oh, no."
This was how it happened that Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn took the midnight train to New York, while Mrs. Jarvis Jocelyn followed on an early morning one.
"But why, if you both have to go to that city of abominations, do you not go together?" inquired the Professor.
"Part of the secret," she reminded him.
"Dear me, I had forgotten we were living in a plot. How is it coming out?"
"I will know to-day, definitely, just how, when, and where it is coming out."
Jarvis presented himself at the theatre at eleven sharp, and felt a thrill of righteous pride when he was ushered into the private office without delay. His vow that he would enter without so much as a calling-card had come true sooner than he had hoped.
Mr. Frohman smiled in his friendly way, and shook hands.
"How's my friend, the ex-Jehu?" he laughed.
"Fine! I hope you are well."
"I'm all right. How's the play?"
"I have it here. It is good."
"Good, is it?" Mr. Frohman's eyes twinkled.
"Yes. My—Mrs. Jocelyn worked at it with me, and I have to admit that the success, if it is one, is largely due to her."
"She is a writer, too?"
"No, but she has a keen dramatic sense. She understands character, too."
"So? Lucky for you. Does she want her name on the bills?"
"She has never spoken of it, but I wish her to go on as co-dramatist."
"All right. Clever wife is an asset. Now we've got just two hours. Go ahead—read me what you've got there."
Jarvis unpacked the manuscript and began. He had worked over the scenes so often with Bambi that he fell into her dramatic way of "doing" the scenes. Once or twice the manager chuckled as he recognized her touch and intonation on a line. Certainly Jarvis had never read so well. He was encouraged by frequent laughs from his audience. There were interruptions now and then, criticisms and suggestions. As he read and laid down the last page, Mr. Frohman nodded his head.
"Pretty clever work for amateurs," he said.
"You think it will go?"
"With some changes and rearrangements. Yes, I should say so."
"Are you thinking of producing it soon?"
"Yes, if I can make satisfactory arrangements with the author I'll put it in rehearsal right away."
"I think the author will be satisfied."
The manager looked a question.
"We have been corresponding during my work on it," Jarvis explained.
Mr. Frohman stared, then laughed.
"We can soon find out whether she's pleased. She is due here at three o'clock to-day."
"She is coming here to-day?" Jarvis exclaimed.
"Yes."
"Could I talk to her then—there is so much——"
"Sorry. I promised there would be no one here. Some crazy idea about keeping her name a secret."
"Of course. I would not intrude," said Jarvis, hastily. "She wrote me that she would leave rehearsals to you and me."
"Did she? Will your wife want to come to rehearsals?"
"I think so. Would there be any objections?"
"Not if she is co-author."
"She is very clever."
"I don't doubt it. You leave that copy here. I'll go over it, in part, with the author, and let her take it to look over. I will wire you what day I want to get the company together for a reading."
"All right, sir."
"If the author is satisfied with this, I'll have a contract made out to submit to you and your wife. In the meantime, do you want an advance?"
"No, thanks."
"All right. You'll hear from me. You've done surprisingly well with this, Jocelyn—you, or your wife."
"Thank you. Good-day."
"Good-day."
At three o'clock the other member of the Jocelyn family arrived.
"You are good to see me. I would have burst with curiosity before Jarvis got back," she began the minute she got inside the door.
"I naturally wanted to consult the author before I accepted the play."
"Is it any good? Are you going to take it?"
"What do you think about it? Are you satisfied?"
"Yes. I think it's a love of a play."
He laughed.
"How much of it did Jarvis do?"
"Oh, a great deal!"
"Not enough to spoil it, eh?"
"He has worked very hard," she said seriously.
"He tells me he has corresponded with the author during his work, and he begged to be here for this meeting."
"Did he? Bless his heart! It has been so funny—that correspondence! He's crazy about that author-lady."
"Either you are very clever, or he's very stupid, which is it?"
"Both."
"When are you going to tell him the truth?"
"The opening night."
"Upon my word, youhavegot a dramatic sense. Blaze of success, outbursts of applause, husband finds wife is the centre and cause of it. That sort of thing, eh?"
"Yes, but don't say it like that. It sounds silly and cheap."
"Husband will be mad as fury at the whole thing."
"You don't think that, do you? That would spoil the whole thing so entirely," she said in concern.
"You're the dramatist, I'm only the manager," he laughed.
They talked about the cast, the sets, and other practical details.
"You're coming to rehearsals, aren't you?" he asked her.
"Rather!"
"Jarvis prepared me for that."
"Did he? Well, he won't be much good. He can't act."
"I told him you would look over the play, then I would call the company together for a reading."
"Consider the script looked over. Do call it quick, Mr. Frohman; I can hardly wait."
"What about contracts? Do you want one as author, with another to you and Jarvis as playwrights?"
"No, that's too complicated. Let's have one for the whole thing, then we can divvy up what there is."
"Suits me. I'll see you next week, then. Better make arrangements to stay in town during rehearsals."
"Oh, yes, we will"
"I think we will pull off a success. This is very human, this stuff. Good-bye."
"You've been such a dear. We've just got to succeed for your sake. Good-bye, and thanks."
Bambi hurried to catch the 5:30 train for home, and as it rushed through the station she spied Jarvis striding on ahead, evidently bound for the same train. With the caution of a lady detective she kept behind him until he got aboard. Then she rushed ahead and got into the first car. At Sunnyside she astonished the town hackman by leaping into his cab and ordering him to drive her home, top speed.
The situation appealed to her taste for intrigue. Into the house she sped and to her room. The Professor and Ardelia were in bed and asleep. When Jarvis came in she descended, to inquire about the fate of their play, with the calm of a finished actress.
"I'm waiting for you! What news?" she demanded.
"He likes it. If the author is satisfied, we go ahead at once."
"Hooray!" shouted Bambi, pirouetting madly. "Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis Jocelyn, the talk of the town," she sang.
"You did want your name on the bills, then?"
She stopped in alarm. Had she given it away after all her trouble?
"How do you mean on the bills?"
"As co-author? Mr. Frohman asked me. I told him you had never spoken of it, but that I wanted you to have full credit."
"What else did you tell Mr. Frohman about me?"
"I told him you were clever."
"What did he say?" she laughed.
"Said he didn't doubt it. He will allow you to come to rehearsals."
"I should hope so! So it's all settled?"
"Yes, if the author consents. She was to see the play at three this afternoon."
"Was she? Why didn't you wait and see her?"
"She wished to talk to Mr. Frohman alone."
"Isn't she tiresome, with all her mystery? You don't think she could hold us up on it now, at the last minute, do you?"
"She could, but I don't think she will. Rehearsals will be called next week."
"Oh, goody! Jarvis, aren't you happy about it?"
"Yes."
"But you aren't happy enough!"
He sighed. It was all so different from the way he had planned to bring her his first success.
"Something seems to have gone amiss with us, doesn't it, Bambi?"
"I haven't noticed it."
"You're satisfied to go on as we are now?"
"I can think of a few improvements. I'll tell you about them later."
"So many things seem to hinge on the success of this play!"
"They do! May the gods take notice," she laughed.
On the following Tuesday came the call for a reading of the play with the company, Wednesday, at eleven. Bambi was as excited as a child over the announcement.
"I think we had better plan to stay at the National Arts Club again, during rehearsals, Jarvis."
"I am not sure I can finance that. I told Mr. Frohman I did not need an advance."
"I've got some left. You can borrow back the hundred you paid me, to start off on."
"You're like the old woman with the magic purse."
"I'm thrifty and saving."
"Well, if we can accomplish it without robbing you I agree with you that it would be better to stay in town."
"Settled. You go pack your things, and I'll look after mine."
They prepared to make their second pilgrimage, this time to the "Land of Promise."
The Professor showed an unusual amount of interest in the matter.
"How long will it take to rehearse it?" he asked.
"We don't know yet, we're such amateurs. But as soon as we know the date set for the opening you and Ardelia are to prepare to come. You can come up the day of the performance, and if you can't stand it, you may come home the next day."
"A trip to New York? What an upsetting idea!"
"Would you rather stay here, and miss the first play Jarvis and I ever did together?" said Bambi, disappointedly.
"No, certainly not. I'll come. Just make a note of it, and put it in a conspicuous place," he added.
"We'll keep you reminded, never fear."
Ardelia gasped when she heard she was to go.
"I'll send you a list of the clothes to bring for the Professor in plenty of time. I shall give you a new black silk dress for the occasion."
"Lawd a' massy, Miss Bambi! I'se so excited I cain't talk. A noo silk dress an' a-goin' to Noo Yawk wid de Perfessor. I decla' dey ain't no niggah woman in dis heah town got sech quality to work fo' as dis old niggah has."
"Why, Ardelia, we couldn't have it without you."
"Am I gwine sit wid de' white folks in de' theatre, or up in niggah heaven?"
"You'll sit in a box with the rest of us."
"Gawd-a'mighty, honey, dis gwine to be de happies' 'casion ob my life."
The co-authors took the night train.
"Not quite a year ago since our first journey together," said Bambi.
"That's so. It seems a century, doesn't it?"
"That is a distinctly husband remark."
"I was only thinking of how much had happened in that time."
"Two new beings have happened—a new you and a new me," she answered him.
"Are you as changed as I am?" he asked.
"Yes. You haven't noticed me enough to realize it, I suppose."
He made no reply to that. Arrived in New York, they went to the clubhouse, and took the same rooms they had before. As Bambi looked about the room, she turned to Jarvis in the doorway:
"It is a century since I knelt at that window and arranged our spectacular success."
"Well, we're a year nearer to it. Let's get a good night's rest, for to-morrow we enter on a new chapter."
"It's jolly we enter it together, isn't it, Jarvis?"
He nodded, embarrassed.
"I should like to wish you luck in the new venture, Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn."
"I wish you the same, Miss Mite," he said, clasping her hand warmly.
"You haven't called me Miss Mite for a long time," she said, softly. "I like it."
"Good-night," said Jarvis abruptly, and left.
"You're a poor actor, my Jarvis," she chuckled to herself.
At eleven o'clock they presented themselves at the theatre. The reading was to take place in Mr. Frohman's big room. Jarvis and Bambi were admitted at once.
"Good-morning," said Mr. Frohman.
"Good-morning. This is Mrs. Jocelyn, Mr. Frohman."
Bambi offered her hand to the manager with a solemn face, but the laugh twinkled in her eyes.
"How do you do, Mrs. Jocelyn? I understand that you had a great deal to do with this play?"
"I did," she admitted. "Without me this play would have been nothing."
"This leaves you no ground to stand on, Mr. Jocelyn," he laughed.
The members of the company arrived and were presented to the authors. Bambi kept them all laughing until Mr. Frohman called order. They sat in state around the big table.
"I propose that Mrs. Jocelyn read us the play," Mr. Frohman said.
"Oh, shall I? It is really Jarvis——"
"If you please," said Mr. Frohman, indicating a chair.
So Bambi began, with a smile at Jarvis, and another at the audience. They all felt in a good humour. The play was so peculiarly hers, the intimate quality which had made the book "go" had been wonderfully retained, so that spontaneous laughter marked her progress through the comedy. It was all so true and universal, the characters so well drawn, the denouement so happy! At the climax of the third act the company broke into irresistible and unpremeditated applause.
"Oh, God bless you for that!" said Bambi, her eyes wet with gratitude.
"We ought to cast you for the girl. You are enough like her to have sat for the portrait," said Mr. Frohman, wickedly.
Jarvis turned to look at Bambi in his earnest way. He marked the likeness, again, himself.
"I shall play it just as you read it, Mrs. Jocelyn," said the girl who was cast for the lead.
"You will greatly improve on my Francesca, I'm sure," Bambi nodded to her.
Parts were distributed, much discussion followed as to character drawing and business, then they separated to meet for rehearsal the next day at 10:30. Mr. Frohman had an immediate appointment, so the Jocelyns had no opportunity for a word in private.
"Queer that Mr. Frohman should think that you are like Francesca, too," said Jarvis, on their way to the club.
"Oh, I don't know. We are the same type. That's all."
"You could play the part wonderfully."
"Could I? It would be fun! Still, I think we can make more money and have more fun writing plays."
She seemed always to be harping on their future together!
The next day was full of surprises for them both. They were entirely ignorant of conditions in and about the theatre. The big, dark house, with its seats all swathed in linen covers, the empty, barn-like stage, with chairs set about to indicate properties; the stage hands coming and going, the stage manager shouting directions—it was all new to them. The members of the company were as businesslike as bank clerks. No hint of illusion, no scrap of romance!
"Mercy! it's like a ghost house," said Bambi.
A deal table was set at one side, down stage, for the Jocelyns, with two scripts of the play. They sat down like frightened school children, bewildered as to what would be expected of them.
The actors sat in a row of chairs at one side. The stage manager made some explanations and remarks about rehearsals, and then the first act was called. It was slow and tedious work. Over and over again the scenes were tried. Some of the actors fumbled their lines as if they had never read English before. Now and then the manager appealed to the authors for the reading of a line, or an intonation, and Bambi always answered. At the end of one scene the man who was to play the young musician came to them.
"I've been thinking over my part, Mrs. Jocelyn, and I think that if you could write in a scene right here, in act first, to let me explain to the old fiddler my reason for being in this situation——"
"Oh, no, you mustn't explain. The whole point of the first act is that you explain nothing."
"Yes, but it would play better," he began, in the patronizing tone always used to newcomers in the theatre.
"I can't help that. I cannot spoil the truth of a whole character, even if it does play better," said Bambi, smiling sweetly.
The actor took it up with the stage manager after rehearsal, and was referred to the authors.
"These new playwrights always have to learn at our expense," he said, importantly.
"Can't be helped. We have to use playwrights, however irritating they are," remarked the stage manager.
Day after day they assembled at the same hour and slowly built up the structure of the play. Many nights Jarvis and Bambi worked on new scenes, or the rearrangement of the old ones. The first act was twisted about many times before it "played" to the stage manager's satisfaction. New lines had to be introduced, new business worked out every day. It was hard work for everybody except Bambi, and she declared it was fun. No matter how trying the rehearsals, nor how hard she had to work, she enjoyed every minute of it. They soon discovered that Jarvis had no talent for rehearsing. In fact, the mechanics of the thing bored him. When a new scene was demanded quickly, his mind refused to work. It was Bambi's quick wits that saved the day. After the first few days she was the only one to be consulted and appealed to by everybody.
"I can't see that you need me at all in this business. I'm no good at it."
"Yes, you are, too. You saw where that new scene in the third act belonged at once."
"Yes, after you wrote the scene."
"But this is why we need each other. I didn't see where the scene belonged at all. If we both could do the same thing, we wouldn't need to collaborate. Thank heaven, we don't have the author underfoot interfering all the time."
"I don't believe she would interfere."
"Heard anything from her, lately?"
"No, she is waiting for the production, I suppose."
"And then the deluge! I may lose you to that story-writing female yet!" she teased him.
"Don't!" he protested, quickly.
"I won't," she retorted, meaningly.
In late March the date of the production was set. It gave Bambi unbelievable pleasure to read the announcements on the billboards, and to stand in front of the three-sheets in the foyer of the theatre.
She wrote Ardelia full directions in regard to packing the Professor's dress clothes; she told her the train they were to take; she worked out every detail, so that nothing might be left to the sievelike memories of the principals on this foreign journey.
She ordered a new frock for herself, and succeeded in getting Jarvis measured for new dress clothes. Then she threw herself, heart and soul, into the last few days of work at the theatre, helping to polish and strengthen the play. The night of dress rehearsal came, and with it a new development for her consideration and management.
Dress rehearsal was called at midnight, as two of the principals were playing in other theatres. There was an air of suspense and confusion on the stage, where the new sets were being put on, which threw Jarvis into a cold sweat of terror. It only added one degree to Bambi's mounting excitement. She and Jarvis made their way to the front of the house, where Mr. Frohman, the leader of the orchestra, and a few other people interested in the production were assembled.
"I never realized before how many people, how much work and money and brain go into the production of the simplest comedy for one night's amusement," she said to Mr. Frohman.
"And yet managers are always blamed because they don't take more chances on new playwrights," he smiled.
"Jarvis looks as if he were walking to the guillotine, doesn't he?"
"It is a strain, isn't it, Jocelyn? You get used to it after a few first-nights."
Jarvis nodded, wetting his dry lips with a nervous tongue.
The curtain went down and came up. The first act began. Bambi scarcely breathed. Jarvis could be heard all over the house. The first part of the act hitched along and had to be repeated; the stage manager came out and scolded, while Mr. Frohman called directions from the front. Bambi turned to Jarvis.
"It's going to be a failure," she said.
"Oh, don't say that!" he fairly groaned.
"Don't be discouraged!" said Mr. Frohman, noting their despairing looks. "Dress rehearsals are usually the limit."
"But it can't go like this, and succeed," Bambi wailed.
"Don't you worry. It won't go like this."
The night wore on, miserably, for the authors. Everything had to be done over—lines were forgotten—everybody was in a nervous stew.
"The awful part of it is that we've done all we can do," moaned Bambi. "If they ruin it, we can't prevent them."
"We'll make them rehearse all day to-morrow," said Jarvis, fiercely. "They were better than this two weeks ago."
The end of the agony finally came. The stage manager assembled the weary company and gave them a few select and sarcastic remarks as to their single and collective failure. Mr. Frohman added a few words, and ordered them all to dismiss the play from their minds until the morrow night. Bambi tried to say a word of encouragement and thanks to them, but in the midst of it she broke down and wept.
"Take her home and keep her in bed to-morrow, Jocelyn," Mr. Frohman said.
Jarvis hurried her into a cab, and she sobbed softly all the way home. He made no effort to touch her or comfort her; he was in torment himself. At the club he ordered eggnog and sandwiches sent to her room, whither he followed her, helpless to cope with her tears.
She threw her things off and bathed her eyes, while he set out the table for the food. When the boy appeared with it, Jarvis led her to her chair and served her. She smiled mistily at him.
"It's nerves and excitement and overwork," she explained. He nodded.
"If it failed now, it would be too awful," he said.
"Don't say that word; don't even think it!" she cried.
"You mustn't care so much," he begged her.
"Don't you care?"
"Of course, more than you know. But I am prepared for failure, if it comes."
"I can't be prepared for it. It cannot happen!" she sobbed.
He stood looking down at her helplessly.
"What can I do for you? What is it you want?" he demanded gently.
"I want to be rocked," she sobbed.
"To be——"
She pushed him into a big chair, and climbed into his arms.
"Rocked," she finished.
He held her a minute closely, then he rose and set her down.
"I can't do it," he began. "I have something to tell you that must be said——"
"Not to-night, Jarvis, I'm too tired."
"Yes, to-night, before another hour passes. Sit down there, please."
She obeyed, curiously.
"Do you remember Christmas Eve, when I came home?"
"Yes."
"Did you notice anything different about me?"
"How, different?"
"Did it occur to you that I cared about you, for the first time?"
"I—I—suspicioned it a little."
"Then you deliberately ignored it because you did not want my love?"
"I—I—didn't mean to ignore it."
"But you did."
"I wasn't sure; you never spoke of it, never said you cared. After that first night I thought I must have been mistaken."
"But you were glad to be mistaken?"
"No. I was sorry," she said, softly.
"What?" sharply.
"I wanted your love, Jarvis."
"You can't mean that."
"But I do!"
"But, Strong—you love Strong——"
She rose quickly, her face flushed.
"I love Richard Strong as my friend, and in no other way."
"Certainly he loves you."
"He has never told me so."
"You let me believe you cared for him; you tortured me with your show of preference for him."
"You imagined that, Jarvis. It is not true!"
"It is true!" he cried, passionately. "I came to you, eager for your love, wanting you as I had never wanted anything. You flaunted this man in my face, you shut me out, you drove me back on myself——"
"Well?"
"What did you expect me to do? Endure forever in silence?"
"What did you do? Or what do you mean to do?"
"I have come to care for a woman who understands me——"
"A woman, Jarvis?"
"The woman who wrote 'Francesca.' I cared first because she had put into her heroine so many things that were like you."
"Well?" she said again.
"She has come to care for me. I wanted to tell you so long ago, when we first knew, but she begged me not to until after the play was tried out. But I can't stand it another minute. There must be truth between us, Bambi. I want you to read her letters. I want you to try to understand how this has crept into my heart."
"You wish to be free—to go to her?"
"There is no happiness for us, is there?"
"I'm too tired to think it out now, Jarvis. You must go away and let me get myself together."
She looked like a pitiful little wraith, and his heart ached for her.
"I'm sorry I had to add to your hard day, but I had to say this to-night."
"It's all right. I must ask you not to speak to me of it again until after to-morrow night. I need all my strength for that ordeal. After that, we must turn our attention to this new problem, and work it out together, somehow."
"Thank you. I'm sorry I've been such a disappointment to you, my dear," he added.
"Good-night. Take the letters—I could not bear to read them."
With an agonized look he took them and left her.
"Dear lord, I'm through with plots! I'm sick unto death of the secret," she sighed, as she climbed into bed.
Bambi kept to her room next day until it was time to meet the train on which Ardelia and the Professor were to arrive. It was due at four o'clock. She went to Jarvis's door, but he was not in his room. She had heard nothing of him since his confession of the night before.
Her telephone bell startled her, and she took up the receiver to hear Jarvis's voice.
"Bambi?"
"Yes."
"How are you?"
"All right."
"Don't you want me to meet the Professor and Ardelia? There's no need of your going up to Grand Central."
"I'd rather go thank you, Jarvis. Where are you?"
"At the theatre."
"Anything the matter?"
"Oh, no. I came to talk to the stage manager. He says everything will be all right to-night. Are you resting?"
"Yes. I've had a quiet day, sitting on my nervous system. Where have you been?"
"Walking the streets."
"Come home and take some rest. I'll meet the train. Thank you just as much for thinking of it."
"I'll be at the information booth at five minutes to four."
"All right."
She hung up the phone with a dazed face. The idea of Jarvis taking care of her, inquiring after her health, and trying to spare her!
"Every blessed thing is topsy-turvy," she exclaimed aloud.
At four o'clock she walked up to the booth, and there he stood, anxiously scanning the faces that passed.
"Hello!" she said cheerfully.
He looked grateful and smiled.
"You look as if you had had a spell of sickness, you're so white," he said.
"I'm all right, but you look like a nervous pros. case. Aren't we pitiful objects for eminently successful playwrights?"
"I suppose one gets used to this strain in time," he said, taking her arm to help her through the crowd.
No sooner had the train come to a stop than they saw Ardelia's huge frame descend from the car, holding a dress suitcase in each hand. After her came the Professor, looking very small and shrunken. Ardelia saw them afar, and waved the heavy suitcase in the air like a banner as she hurried toward them.
"Howdy, Miss Bambi? Howdy, Mistah Jarvis? Heah we is."
"Bless your old hearts!" said Bambi, hugging them both.
"How are you, children?" the Professor inquired.
"We're fine! Did you have a comfortable time on the trip? Why did you sit in the day coach, father?"
"De Perfessor, he won't set in de' chaih cah, cause'n dey won't let me in dere, an' he's 'fraid he fergit to git off less'n he was 'longside ob me."
"But the train stops here—it doesn't go any farther. My! Ardelia, you do look stylish!"
"Yas'm. Wait until yo' see my noo black silk. I'se got me a tight skirt, an' a Dutch neck—Lawzee, honey, but dis ole niggah's gittin' mighty frisky."
She and Jarvis had an argument about the bags. She insisted upon carrying them herself, and indignantly refused the help of the coloured porter.
"Go way f'um heah, boy. Yo' reckon I gwine trust yo' all wid ma' noo silk dress an de Perfessor's dress suit? No, sah!"
She kept them laughing all the way to the club with her tales of their difficulties and excitements in getting off. Her exclamations on everything she saw were convulsing. When they arrived at the club, and she discovered that she was to have the little room next to Bambi's, her satisfaction was complete.
Bambi ordered the entire family to repose on its respective backs for an hour before they dressed for dinner. So they parted to obey orders. For that hour Bambi held herself firmly upon her bed, completing her plans. They had agreed, she and Jarvis, that if there should be a call for the author, they would take it together, and Jarvis would speak. She was not sure just how she was to make the revelation to him of her dual personality. She decided to leave it to chance.
Never in her life had she been so excited. The double responsibility as author and playwright shrank to second place in comparison with the fact that this night she was to tell Jarvis of her love for him—hear him speak his love for her.
Before the hour of enforced quiet was over she could hear Ardelia tiptoeing about her room. Presently her head was cautiously inserted through the door. When she saw a hand waved at her, she bounced in.
"Laws, honey, I'se so excited, I cain't hol' my eyes shet. I got de Perfessor's dress suit cloes all laid out smooth, wif de buttons in de shirt, an' de white tie ready. Now, yo' let me help yo' all git dressed befo' I begin to wrassle wid dat tight skirt ob mine."
"All right, sit down and hold your hands till I jump into my bath."
While Bambi bathed, Ardelia shouted all the gossip of home through the bathroom door. Upon Bambi's reappearance, she insisted upon dressing her like a child. She put on her silk stockings and slippers, getting herself down and up with many a grunt. She constituted herself a critical judge in the hairdressing process, and fussed about every pin.
"Why ain't yo' all had one ob dese heah hair-fixers do yo' haid?"
"And make me look like a hair-shop model? Not much!"
"Well, yo' done purty good."
"Wait till I curl it," said Bambi, throwing up the window and popping her head out into the night air.
"Fo' de Lawd's sake, yo' curl yo' haih in Noo Yawk jes' lak yo' do at home."
"Why not? This cold, damp air is just the thing. Now look at me," she boasted, shaking her head so that the soft, curly rings fluttered like little bells about her face.
"Yo'll do," said Ardelia.
Bambi disappeared into the closet, and presently she popped out her head.
"Ardelia, prepare to die of joy. When you have seen my new dress, life has nothing more to offer you."
"I ain' gwine to die till after dis show."
Out of the closet Bambi danced, her arms full of sunset clouds apparently She held it up, and Ardelia's eyes bulged.
"Yo' don' call dat a dress?"
"Put it on me, and you'll call it a poem."
"Dey ain't nuthin' to it," she protested, as she slipped it over Bambi's head.
It was certainly a diaphanous thing of many layers of chiffon, graduating in colour from flame to palest apricot pink. It hung straight and simple on Bambi's lithe figure, bringing out all the colour, the dash, the firelike quality in the girl's personality. The flush in her cheeks, the glow in her eyes, even the little curls, were like twisted tongues of flame. She whirled for Ardelia's inspection.
"I know dat ain't no decent dress, but yo' sho' is beautiful as Pottypar's wife."
"Who's she?"
"She's in the Bible!"
Bambi laughed.
"I look like the 'fire of spring,' " she nodded to her reflection. "Of course I'm beautiful! This is the biggest, happiest night of my life!"
A boy came for the Professor's clothes, and a little later that distracted gentleman presented himself to have his tie arranged, and to be looked over generally in case of omissions.
"My dear!" he exclaimed at sight of his daughter.
"Aren'tI wonderful?"
He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face to him.
"There is something about you to-night—elemental is the word—fire, water, and air."
She hugged him.
"Oh, but you've got a surprise coming to you this night. You are about to discover other unsuspected elements in your offspring."
"My dear, I'm so excited now I'm counting backward. Don't explode anything on me or I'll lose control."
"The secret is coming out to-night."
"Is it painful?"
"No, it's heavenly!"
Jarvis rapped.
"May I come in?"
"Yes."
He stood on the threshold a moment, a truly magnificent figure in his evening clothes.
"Jarvis!" breathed Bambi.
"Bambi!" exclaimed Jarvis, and they stood a-gaze. She recovered first.
"Do you like me?" she coquetted.
He walked about her slowly, considering her from all sides.
"Ariel!" he said at last.
"Oh, thank you, Apollo," she laughed, to cover the lump in her throat at his awed admiration.
They sent Ardelia's supper up to her, and the rest of them made an attempt at dining, but nobody could eat a thing. Bambi talked incessantly from excitement, and all eyes in the dining-room were focussed upon her.
Ardelia was in a tremor of pride when they went upstairs again. She shone like ebony, and grinned like a Hindoo idol. They admired her, to her heart's content, and she descended to the cab in a state of sinful pride.
Although they were early, the motors were already unloading before the theatre. They were to sit in the stage box, and as soon as the rest of them were seated Bambi went back on the stage to say good-evening to the company. The first-night excitement prevailed back there. Every member of the company was dressed and made up a good half hour too soon. They all assured the perturbed author that she need have no fears, everything would go off in fine shape. Somewhat relieved, she started to go out front, when she ran into Mr. Frohman.
"Good-evening. If you are as well as you look, you're all right," he smiled at her.
"I feel like a loaded mine about to blow to pieces," she answered.
"Hold on for a couple of hours more. Does Jarvis know yet?"
"Not yet."
He laughed and went on. Bambi returned to the box, where she sat far back in the corner. The house was filling fast now. More than a little interest was evinced in the strange box party of big Jarvis, the Professor, and Ardelia. Richard Strong nodded and smiled from a nearby seat.
"We should have come in late, just as the curtain rose," whispered Bambi. "We must not be so green again."
"Why so, daughter?"
"Then we wouldn't be stared at."
"Are we stared at? By whom?"
The overture interrupted her reply. The seats were full now as high as the eye could reach the balconies. Bambi scanned the faces eagerly. Would they like the play? If they only knew what it meant to Jarvis and to her to have them like it!
The curtain rose. For two full moments she could not breathe. The act started off briskly, and little by little her tension relaxed. She laid her hand on Jarvis's knee and it was stiff with nervous concentration. The first genuine laugh came to both of them like manna from heaven.
"It's all right," Bambi whispered to Jarvis. He nodded, his eyes glued to the stage. Of all kinds of creative work, dramatic writing can be the most poignant or the most satisfactory. It is the keenest pleasure to see characters whom you have invented given life and personality if the actors are clever. The Jocelyns had the aid of practically a perfect cast. The sense of power that comes with the laughter or the tears of an audience aroused by your thoughts is a very real experience. Bambi "ate up her sensations," as Strong had said. As the curtain descended after the first act the applause was instantaneous and long.
"They like it," Bambi said with a sigh.
"Yes, thank God!" from Jarvis.
"You told me not to take this seriously, Jarvis," she reminded him.
"Does anybody know who wrote this book?" the Professor inquired.
"Not yet. We are to know to-night. I wonder where she is?" Jarvis added to Bambi.
"I've thought that fat old one in the opposite box," she said wickedly. "Why did you ask, father?"
"It is a diverting idea. The girl is like you, or maybe it is the similarity of the names that suggests it."
"What do you think about the play, Ardelia?"
"Law, honey, 'tain't no play-actin' to me. It's jes' lak' bein' home wid yo' an' de' Perfessor and Marse Jarvis. Dose folkses is jes' lak yo' all."
Bambi laughed outright. Ardelia was the only one who guessed.
"I trust you do not compare me to that impractical old fiddling man," the Professor protested to Ardelia.
"Sh! Here's the curtain!" warned Bambi.
The second act went like a breeze. Laughter and applause punctuated its progress. The house was warming up. Bambi slipped her hand into Jarvis's, and he held it so tight that she could feel his heart beat through his palm. There was no doubt about it at the end of the second act. It was going. The company took repeated curtain calls, smiling at the Jocelyns.
"I'm grinning so I shall never get my face straight again," Bambi said to Richard, who came to the box to congratulate them.
"Looks like a go," he said, cordially.
Even Jarvis unbent to him, and insisted upon his sitting with them for the third act. Bambi added a smiling second. She had explained to Richard, in advance, why she did not invite him to share the box.
"I am having a most unexpectedly good time," the Professor admitted to them all.
Jarvis's state of mind was painful as the last act began. In the next thirty minutes he was to meet the woman he thought he loved. Since his confession to Bambi the night before, a doubt had raised its head to stare at him as to the real depth of his feeling for his unknown inamorata. Had he really been moved by love, or was it only a need of sympathy for his hurt pride that had driven him to her? Bambi's strange behaviour, her admission that she did not love Strong, most of all those moments when she lay in his arms—they had upset all his convictions and emotions. He paid no attention to the act at all, torn as he was as to what the night would bring him.
He was aroused by storms of applause. The curtain went up again, and again; the company bowed solo and in a group. Then calls of "Author! Author!" were heard all over the house. Bambi clutched Jarvis's sleeve and drew him back of the box.
"Go on! You've got to go out and bow. You do it alone, Jarvis——"
In answer he took her arm and propelled her in front of him, back on the stage.
"Here they are! give them full stage!" said the stage manager, ringing up the curtain. "Now, go ahead, right out there!"
He opened a door in the set and Jarvis and Bambi went on. There was a hush for a second, then a big round of applause. Bambi laughed and waved her hand. There was a hush of expectancy.
"Now, Jarvis, go on!" she prompted him.
Jarvis, cold as death, began to speak. He thanked everybody in the prescribed way, beginning with the audience, ending with the company. He said he was happy that they liked the play, but that he was making the speech under false pretenses. All the credit for the success must go to two women, his wife and collaborator——Here he turned to include Bambi, but to his astonishment she was gone. The audience laughed at his discomfiture, but he turned it off wittily. The other woman, the one to whom most of the credit was due, was the author of the book. She had so far hidden behind an anonymity, but he believed she was in the house to-night, and it was to her that their congratulations should be offered. Cries of "Author! Author of the book!" with much clapping of hands. Jarvis stood there, scarcely breathing, cold sweat on his brow, waiting for her to come. The applause became a clamour. The door opened and Bambi floated in. She did not see the audience, her eyes were fixed on Jarvis's face, and the strange expression she saw there. She came to him, put her hand in his, and smiled. He was so obviously nonplussed that the people grasped a new situation and were suddenly still. Bambi smiled at him and spoke:
"Dear People: If you have had as much fun to-night as I have, we owe each other nothing! And the most fun of all is the astonishment of Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn, who discovers himself to be a bigamist. He's married to the co-dramatist and the author, and he never knew it! That I wrote the book has been a secret until this minute. If you hadn't liked the play, I neverwouldhave admitted that I wrote it. You're the very nicest first-nighters I ever met, and we are both most grateful to you, the bigamist and I."
There was wild applause, flowers were tossed from the boxes, calls of "Brava!" greeted the little bowing figure clinging tightly to the big man's hand. They finally made their escape to the wings, and Bambi turned to Jarvis for what was to her the real climax of the evening.
He looked at her so strangely that she laid her hand on his arm.
"You aren't glad?" she questioned, anxiously.
Some members of the company surrounded them with congratulations, and when they were free they had to hurry out to rescue the rest of the family.
"What did you think of the secret, Daddy?"
"My child, I am past all thought. I wish to be taken home, put to bed, and allowed to recover slowly. I have had a shock of surprise that would kill a less vigorous man."
"But you liked it? You were glad I did it?"
"I am so proud of you that I am imbecile. Let us go home."
Richard shook both her hands in silent congratulation.
"Where is Jarvis?" asked her father.
A search failed to find him. Richard made a trip back on the stage, but he was not there.
"We won't wait, if you will put us into our cab," Bambi said to him.
He saw them all off, promising to send Jarvis along if he saw him.
"What do you suppose became of him?" demanded the Professor.
But Bambi did not answer. All the triumph of the evening counted for nothing to her now. Jarvis had been hurt or angered at her revelation. He had deliberately gone off and left her, regardless of appearances. She spent the night in anxious listening for his return, but morning found his rooms vacant, his bed untouched. Bambi's heart misgave her.
Jarvis was never sure what happened to him after he came off the stage with Bambi. Something had exploded in his brain, and his only thought was to get away, away from all the noisy, chattering, hand-shaking people, to some quiet place, where he could think.
On the way back to the box in Bambi's train, he had been separated from her a minute, long enough to spy the stage door, to slip out and away. He headed uptown without design, walking, walking, at a furious pace. Bambi, herself, was the Lady of Mystery to whom he had offered his devotions. The thing which hurt him was that she had tricked him into declaring himself, probably laughed at his ardour. It made him rage to think of it. What had been her object? He could not decipher her riddle at all. If she wanted his love, she might have had it for the taking, without all this play-acting nonsense. These was no use in his ever expecting to understand her or her motives. He might as well give it up and be done with it.
He built up the whole story, bit by bit. Her mysterious trips to town were in regard to the book, of course. The "butter-'n'-eggs" money came from royalties. Strong had published the story in his magazine: hence their intimacy. His thought attacked this idea furiously, then he remembered Bambi's words, "I love Richard Strong as my good friend, and in no other way."
There was no doubting the sincerity of that declaration. Besides, Bambi never lied. She had not deceived him, then, with any deliberate plan to alienate his affections so that she could be free to go to Strong. No light along that line of questioning.
He went on, feeling his way, step by step, to the point of the dramatization of the book. Here he paused long. Surely he had not been her dupe here. He was Frohman's choice as dramatist. But was he? She and Frohman had come to some understanding, because she had gone to see him the day the play was delivered. No, that could not be, for he found her at home when he returned. He could not find a piece to fit into the puzzle at this point. He went over their joint work on the book—her book. He understood, now, how she was so sure of every move, why she knew her characters so well. What a blind fool he had been not to see that Francesca was herself! How she had played with him about that, too. How she drew him out about the other characters. He stopped in his tracks as the last blow fell. The musician was intended for a study of him—that hazy, impossible dreamer, with his half-baked, egotistical theories of his own divine importance. Why, in God's name, had she married him if that was her opinion of him? His brain beat it over and over, to the click of his heels on the pavement.
The fiddler was the Professor, of course. Any one but a blind man would have seen it. So she had made mock of them, the two men nearest to her, for all the world to laugh at! That she wanted to punish him for not coming up to her expectations, that he could understand, but why had she betrayed the Professor whom she loved?
He reviewed the period of rehearsals—her sure touch revealed again. She knew every move. She even saw herself so clearly that she could correct the actress in a false move. She had held herself up for public inspection, too. He had to admit that. It seemed so shameless to him, so lacking in reserve.
He urged his mind on to the night now passing, the night he had looked forward to, for so many months, as the first white stone along the road to success. Well, it had been a success, but none of his. Bambi's—all Bambi's. She had conceived the book, worked out the play, and rehearsed it, to a triumphant issue. It was all hers! The only part he could claim was that Frohman had sent for him. But had he? Was it possible he had only humoured Bambi in her desire to give him a chance? He would find out the truth about that, and if it were so, he could never forgive her.
He saw her coming toward him in reply to the calls for "Author!" her eyes fixed on him, shining and expectant! What had she wanted him to do? Was it possible she expected him to be pleased?
Broad daylight found him far up toward the Bronx, weary, footsore, and hungry. When he came to himself he realized that he must send some word to the club of his whereabouts. He wrote a message to Bambi:
"I shall not come back to-day. I cannot. You have hurt me very deeply."JARVIS."
"I shall not come back to-day. I cannot. You have hurt me very deeply.
"JARVIS."
He put a special delivery stamp on it and mailed it. He found some breakfast, and went into the Bronx Park, where he sat down under the bare trees to face himself.
In the meantime Bambi, after a sleepless night, was up betimes. At breakfast she protested that she was not at all worried. Jarvis had no doubt decided to celebrate the success in the usual masculine way. He would come home later, with a headache.
"But Jarvis isn't a drinking man, is he?" the Professor inquired.
"No, but it's the way men always celebrate, isn't it?"
The Professor wanted the whole story of the writing of the book, the prize winning, Mr. Frohman's order, and all, so, after breakfast, she made a clean breast of it, and they laughed over it for a couple of hours. Then Jarvis's message came. Her face quivered as she read it.
"What is it, dear? Is it Jarvis?"
She nodded, the slow tears falling.
"He isn't hurt?"
"Not physically hurt, but I've hurt his feelings. Oh, Daddy, I've made such a mess of it. I wanted to be dazzled by my success, because he thinks I'm a helpless sort of thing, and now he only hates me for it."
She broke down and wept bitterly. The Professor, distressed and helpless, took her into his arms and petted her.
"There, there, Baby, it will work out all right. Just let us go home, where we're used to things, and everything will look different."
"Yes, that's it, we'll all go home," sobbed Bambi, wiping her eyes.
"Where is Jarvis?"
"I don't know. But I can leave word for him here that we've gone back home."
"Then we can get the two o'clock train. Nothing but misery comes to people in these cities."
By dint of much hurry they caught the train, Ardelia protesting up to the moment when the train started that they couldn't possibly make it. Bambi sat, chin on hand, all the way, a sad, pale-faced figure. No one could suspect, to see her now, that she had been the brilliant flame-thing of the night before. Once the Professor patted her hand and she tried to smile at him, but it wasn't much of a success.
When they entered the house, and Ardelia bustled about to get them some tea, Bambi sat dejectedly, with all her things on, among the travelling-bags.
"Be of good courage, little daughter," her father said.
"Oh, Father Professor, are the fruits of success always so bitter—so bitter?" she cried to him.