Standing outside in the dark passage for a moment, Polly hesitated with
her hand on the door-knob, having already opened the door a few inches.
From the inside she could plainly hear the voices of the two girls who
shared the dressing room with her. Neither one of them had an important
place in the cast. They merely came on in one of the scenes as members
of a group and without speaking. However, they were both clever,
ambitious girls whom Polly liked. Now her attention had been arrested by
hearing the sound of her own name.
"Polly O'Neill was a dreadful failure, wasn't she?" one of them was
saying. "Well, I am not in the least surprised. Indeed, it was just what
I expected. Of course, she was only given the part of Belinda because of
favoritism. Miss Adams is such a great friend of hers!"
Then before Polly could make her presence known the second girl replied:
"So far as I can see, Polly O'Neill has never shown a particle of
ability at any of the rehearsals that would justify her being placed
over the rest of us. I am sure that either you or I would have done far
better. But never mind; perhaps some day we may be famous actresses and
she nothing at all, when there is no Miss Adams to help her along."
But at this same instant Polly walked into the room.
"I am so sorry I overheard what you said, but it was entirely my fault,
not yours," she began directly. "Only please don't think I intended to
be eavesdropping. It was quite an accident my appearing just at the
wrong moment. Of course I am hurt by your thinking I acted Belinda so
poorly. Perhaps one of you would have been more successful. But do
please understand that I realize perfectly that I had the chance given
me because of Miss Adams' friendship and not because of my own talents."
Then, though Polly's cheeks were flaming during her long speech and her
tones not always steady, she smiled at her companions in entire good
fellowship.
Immediately the older girl, walking across the floor, laid her hand on
Polly's shoulder. "I am not going to take back all I said a while ago,
for I meant a part of it," she declared half apologetically and half
with bravado. "Honestly, I don't think you were very good as Belinda.
But I have seen you act rather well at rehearsals now and then. I think
you failed tonight because you suddenly grew so frightened. Don't be
discouraged; goodness knows it has happened to many an actor before who
afterwards became famous," she ended in an effort to be comforting.
"Yes, and it is all very well for us to talk here in our dressing rooms
about being more successful than you were," the second girl added, "but
there is no way of our proving that we would not have had even worse
cases of stage fright." She gave Polly's hand a gentle squeeze. "Of
course, you must know we are both jealous of Miss Adams' affection for
you or we would never have been such horrid cats." The girl blushed. "Do
try and forget what we said, it was horrid not to have been kinder and
more sympathetic. You may have a chance to pay us back with interest
some day. Anyhow, you are a splendid sport not to be angry. I am sure it
is the people who take things as you have this who will win out in the
end."
Then no one referred to the subject again. For it was plain that Polly
was exhausted and that her nerves had nearly reached the breaking point.
Instead, both girls now did their best to assist her in taking off the
costume of the ill-fated Belinda and in getting into an ordinary street
costume. For Polly was to meet her family and friends in a small
reception room adjoining Miss Adams' dressing room, five minutes after
the close of the play. She would have preferred to have marched up to
the cannon's mouth, and she was much too tired at present either for
congratulations or censure. She heard Mollie and Betty Ashton coming
toward the door to seek for her.
Of course they were both immediately enthusiastic over Polly's debut and
were sure that she had been a pronounced success. For in the minds of
her sister and friend, Polly was simply incapable of failure. And
perhaps they did succeed in making the rest of the evening easier for
her. But then all of her old Camp Fire and Woodford friends were as kind
as possible. To have one of their own girls acting on a real stage
seemed fame enough in itself.
But from two of her friends, from Sylvia Wharton and from Billy Webster,
Polly received the truth as they saw it. Sylvia's came with spoken
words, and Billy's by a more painful silence.
As Polly entered the room, Sylvia came forward, and kissed her solemnly.
The two girls had not seen each other for a number of weeks. Sylvia had
only arrived in New York a few hours before.
"You were dreadfully nervous, Polly, just as I thought you would be,"
Sylvia remarked quietly, holding her step-sister's attention by the
intensity and concentration of her gaze behind the gold-rimmed
spectacles. "Now I am afraid you are fearfully tired and upset. I do
wish you would go home immediately and go to bed instead of talking to
all these people. But I suppose you have already decided because you did
not act as well as you expected this evening that you will never do any
better. Promise me to be reasonable this one time, Polly, and may I see
you alone and have a talk with you tomorrow?"
Then there was only time for the older girl to nod agreement and to
place her hot hand for an instant into Sylvia's large, strong one, that
already had a kind of healing touch.
For Mrs. Wharton was now demanding her daughter's attention, wishing to
introduce her to friends. Since she had finally made up her mind to
allow Polly to try her fate as an actress, Mrs. Wharton had no doubt of
her ultimate brilliant success.
Five minutes afterwards, quite by accident, Richard Hunt found himself
standing near enough to Polly to feel that he must also say something in
regard to her debut.
"I am glad Belinda did not run away today, Miss Polly," he whispered.
"Do you know I almost believed she intended to for a few moments this
morning?" And the man smiled at the absurdity of his idea.
Polly glanced quickly up toward her companion, a warm flush coloring her
tired face. "It might have been better for the play if I had, Mr. Hunt,
I'm a-thinking," she answered with a mellow Irish intonation in the low
tones of her voice. "But you need not think I did not mean what I said.
Don't tell on me, but I had a ticket bought and my bag packed and all my
plans made for running away and then at the last even I could not be
quite such a coward." The girl's expression changed. "Perhaps, after
all, I may yet be forced into using that ticket some day," she added,
half laughing and half serious, as she turned to speak to some one else
who had joined them.
For another idle moment the man still thought of his recent companion.
How much or how little of her rash statements did the child mean? Yet he
might have spared himself the trouble of this reflection, for this
question about Polly was never to be satisfactorily answered.
Although by this time the greater number of persons in Margaret Adams'
reception room had spoken to Polly either to say kind things or the
reverse, there was, however, one individual who had devoted his best
efforts to avoiding her. Yet there had never been such an occasion
before tonight. For whether he chanced to be angry with her at the
moment or pleased, Billy Webster had always enjoyed the opportunity of
talking to Polly, since she always stirred his deepest emotions, no
matter what the emotions chanced to be. Tonight he had no desire to
repeat the fatal words, "I told you so."
Of course he had always known that Polly O'Neill would never be a
successful actress; she was far too erratic, too emotional. If only she
had been sensible for once and listened to him that day in the woods
long ago! Suddenly Billy squared his broad shoulders and closed his firm
young lips. For, separating herself from every one else, Polly was
actually marching directly toward him, and she had ever an uncanny
fashion of guessing what was going on in other people's heads.
Underneath his country tan Billy Webster blushed furiously and honestly.
"You think I was a rank failure, don't you?" Polly demanded at once.
Still speechless, the young man nodded his head.
"You don't believe I ever will do much better?" Again Billy nodded
agreement.
"And that I had much better have stayed at home in Woodford and learned
to cook and sew and--and--well, some day try to be somebody's wife?" the
girl ended a little breathlessly.
This time Billy Webster did not mince matters. "I most assuredly do," he
answered with praiseworthy bluntness.
Now for the first time since her fiasco as Belinda, Polly's eyes flashed
with something of their old fire. And there in the presence of the
company, though unheeded by them, she stamped her foot just as she
always had as a naughty child.
"I will succeed, Billy Webster, I will, I will! I don't care how many
failures I may make in learning! And just because I want to be a good
actress is no reason why I can't marry some day, if there is any man in
the world who could both love and understand me and who would not wish
to make me over according to his own particular pattern." Then Polly
smiled. "Thank you a thousand times, though, Billy, for you are the
solitary person who has done me any good tonight. It is quite like old
times, isn't it, for us to start quarreling as soon as we meet. But,
farewell, I must go home now and to bed." Polly held out her hand. "You
are an obstinate soul, Billy, but I can't help admiring you for the
steadfast way in which you disapprove of me."