Judge — February 14, 1920 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

clerk in the Tombs, and yet find a car to come to work in!” : Sarah’s speech etched lines of confusion on the face of the doubting girl, who hastened out of vocal range just as Winsome Claire appeared. Winsome had almost at once arrived at the dignity of “lines” and a lyric, her rendering of which troubled the star of “The Dormitory.” Sarah greeted Miss Claire with special favor and handed her a letter with the remark: ‘The boy said that was from Dumpleigh.” Dumpleigh was the man- ager. “Can I talk with you, dearie, after the show?” Sarah asked, touching Miss Claire’s hand with a show of affection. “Of course you can!” the girl replied as she passed in to her preparation. Other girls of the company, though fully informed as to their own charms, admitted that Winsome was the handsomest girl in the show. She was a perfect brunette, while most of the others were blonde by Nature’s or chemistry’s grace. Her speech was refined and her bearing aristocratic. She seemed wholly superior to the environment. “The Dormitory” went “screamingly” that night, as usual. The descriptive epithet was the press man’s. He had served his’ novitiate as a propagandist with a circus. And as usual, the company dispersed quickly after the final curtain. : Sarah told the stage manager she had work to do, and lights were left for her. Miss Claire joined her, and they were alone. “Dearie,” said Sarah, patting the girl’s hand, Drowr by Onsox Lown Quick to Take Orrense “although you came late tonight, | hear you came ip a limousine.” “Yes.” Miss Claire laughed. “Dearie, you have a great opportunity. 1 mean aside from all this trumpery here. You can become a real actress.” “So Dumpleigh says.” “But I mean you can win out without the aid of such a person. Even from what you have shown in this rotten piece. You're above all this. Of course Dumpleigh says you can win!” “Yes. But he says there are conditions.” “Generally there are conditions—when such a man is concerned. And they don’t always get you there! I know, dearie!” “You’ve been very good to me, Sarah. Told me things I ought to know. I was quite ingenuous, you'll remember, when I came.” “But has my advice been useful? limousine tonight.” “We were talking about Dumpleigh. 1 saw him a few minutes last night. Just before the performance.” “Yes?” There was solicitude in Sarah’s tone. “T changed my address today.” ‘The girl tapped a letter that protruded from a dainty bag. ‘‘He writes that he failed to reach me by ’phone. Naturally!” She laughed. “He wants to see me now. He—’ A telephone bell rang. Sarah hustled to answer: “Yes, this is 1129 Rialto. Sarah, wardrobe mistress, speaking . . . No, Miss Claire isn’t here, sir. I had some work to do. . . Yes? . . . Maybe she’s on her way, sir.” Sarah hung up and turned to Miss Claire. You came in a ep tmpleisnta “Thinks I’m on my way to see him?” “Yes. Will you confide in me, dearie?” “He says he can put my name in electric letters next season. This is the week- end. I came here tonight for the last time, Sarah.” “And I shall not see you Monday night?” Sarah looked distressed. ‘‘Are you laying a game with Dump- feigh, dearie? Leaving just to lead him on?” “I am not ambitious to have my name in electric letters.” “But you came in a lim- ousine tonight, dearie! | don’t understand!” “The limousine 1 came in is Grattan Channing’s.” “Grattan Channing! Why, he’s a swell! And the quiet kind.” “He’s my fiancé, Sarah.” “Oh!” Sarah beamed on her. ‘No cheap bunch of electric lights for you, dearie! Isee! You're going into The Social Register!”