Marion Marlowe in St. Louis, or, A Forger's Bold Deed — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

MY QUEEN. The ingénue joined in the laugh, good-na- turedly, but she was still flushed with indig- nation. “Didn’t I do that well?” she tried to say, éalmly. “Oh, I can act like a house afire ; you’ve never seen me yet! Just wait until I am called upon to play a tragedy in real life, and I expect to be called upon to play it be- fore long, too, and—well, to put it mildly, Sarah Bernhardt won't be in it!” “I’m sure of it,” laughed Mrs. Burnside, who was brimming over with fun. the way you flourished that curling iron was absolute proof of geritts! Miss Marlowe will be vanquished utterly when you let loose, Miss Ellis!” : “She shall never be vanquished—never !” exclaimed the inzénue, hotly; then she raised her voice so she was sure that Miss Leland would hear her: “No person that I love shall ever be vanquished, Mrs. Burnside! I shall protect them to the bitter end, or as long as I am able! I give everybody warning who has any designs against them!”’ “Hurrah! That’s right! You are made of the right stuff!’ cried Bert, delightedly. “But there’s the ‘second call.’ Get a move 17? on, the whole lot of you! PAA LICR VI; BERT JACKSON'S MODESTY. Five nfinutes after the curtain was rung down on the first act Lou Leland and her chum were back in their dressing-room, the door was locked, and they were both talking in whispers. “Now, what do you make out of that, Mab?” asked Lou, as she repeated Bert’s con- versation with Marion about his father. “There’s a screw loose somewhere,” was the cautious answer. “Is it possible that the mgénue was stringing us, Lou? She doesn’t look clever enough for that; but you can’t al- ways tell! Ven to one she’s in love with him, and is only trying to keep us from getting interested.” “Tl find out,” muttered Lou, between her teeth. “He certainly talked about his father, and as if he was connected with a railroad! (ll make it a point to solve that problem this very night, and, if he is really rich, Miss he’s “Why, 11 Ellis had better look out! Ill pay her back handsomely for telling that fairy tale about ‘stage money!’ ”’ “Hush! There comes Olcott, the villain. I know his whistle! By the way, what do you think of him, Lou? A sort of nonentity in the company, isn’t he?” “Ves, he’s as out of place as we are; but all right in his part. It won’t hurt to sound him a little before the evening is over.” There was a moment of silence as the girls hurried with their toilets; then Lou spoke again, lowering her voice very cautiously. “How are you and the manager progress- ing, Mab? I saw you making eyes at him over in one of the wings. Is it possible he has escaped falling in love with Miss Mar- lowe P” Mabel finished rouging her cheeks before she replied, and then her answer was accom- panied with a frown of vexation. “T don’t know what to make of ‘him at all, Lou,” she said, honestly. ‘“He’s very smil- ing and sweet, but there’s something queer about him. He gives one the impression that he is just jollying them along, but, of course, I may be wrong. I’m a bit morbid on that subject.” “Ahem! You’ve done a little jollying your- self in your day, and you know what it means,’ said Lou, a trifle nastily. ‘Well, go easy with him, Mab, that’s all I’ve ¢g say! If he ever finds out our reputations as women, we may as well quit. We are not bad actresses, but—well, we are not saints in private life; and he'd be afraid that our pres- ence might contaminate Miss Marlowe!” “Pshaw! Those angel faces don’t always prove innocence,” said Mab, contemptuously. “She may be perfect, but I have my doubts : but—hello! what the dickens do you want, Miss Ellis ?” The exclamation was made in alarm, for the door was suddenly bursf open, and the in- génue was standing before them, blazing with indignation. her eyes “How dare you!” she whispered, in a low but furious tone; “how dare you speak, o1 even think slightingly of Marion Marlowe?” There was a light footstep outside as Mar- ion tripped down to the stage; hut Miss Fllis COMMcDoOokS:CS