AS YOU LIKE IT
The big dressing rooms on each side of the stage at Assembly Hall were
ablaze with light. There was a hum of girlish voices and gay laughter,
and all the pleasant excitement attending an amateur production
prevailed. The dressing had been going on for the last hour, and now a
goodly company of courtiers and dames stood about waiting while Miss
Tebbs and Miss Kane rapidly "made up their faces" with rouge and powder.
This being done to prevent them from looking too pale when in the white
glare of the footlights.
Miriam Nesbit as the "Duke" looked particularly fine, and the girls
gathered around her with many exclamations of admiration. Nora's roguish
face looked out from her fool's cap in saucy fashion as she flitted
about jingling her bells. Grace made a handsome Orlando, while Jessica
looked an ideal shepherdess.
"Where's Anne?" said Grace as Nora paused in front of her. "I haven't
see her to-night. I suppose she's over in the other dressing room.
Miss Tebbs said that some of the costumes were moved over there after
we left last night. What time is it? I didn't wear my watch to-night
because I didn't want to risk losing it."
"It's almost half past seven," said Jessica. "I asked Miss Tebbs for the
time just a few minutes ago."
"Let's go and find Anne at once, then," said Nora. "It's getting late,
and she surely is dressed by this time. Then we'll look through the hole
in the curtain at the house. People are beginning to arrive."
"Wait a minute," said Jessica. "There's Mabel. Doesn't she look great as
Jaques? Come here, dear," called Jessica.
Mabel Allison joined the three girls, who hurried across the stage to
the other dressing room in search of Anne Pierson.
"Why, I don't see her here," cried Grace, making a quick survey of the
room. "She must be somewhere about, for----"
"There she goes now," exclaimed Nora, who stood in the door, looking out
on the stage, "and she has her hat and coat on. How strange. I wonder if
she knows how late it is?"
Sure enough, Anne was hurrying toward the opposite dressing room.
The three girls made a rush for her.
"Why, Anne," said Grace. "What is the matter? We thought you had dressed
over here and were looking for you."
"Girls," replied Anne, "I've been on a wild-goose chase. I can't stop to
tell you about it now, but you shall hear as soon as I have a chance.
Will you help me with my costume and make-up? I'm awfully late, and
haven't a minute to spare."
"Why of course we will," said Grace. "Give me your hat and coat, dear.
Where did you put your costumes? It won't take you long to dress, for
most of the girls are dressed and over on the other side, so you have
the place to yourself."
"Over in that corner," replied Anne, taking off her collar and
unfastening her white shirt waist. "Don't you remember, I labeled them
and you laughed at me for doing so?"
"Of course we do," said Nora, making a dive for the corner where Anne
had piled her costumes the previous night. "They're not here," she
announced after a brief but thorough search. "Miss Tebbs must have had
them moved to the other room. She opened it last night after we left.
Grace, you help Anne, and Jessica and Mabel and I will run across and
look for them." With these words, Nora was off, the other two girls at
her heels.
"Tell me what kept you, Anne," said Grace, as the latter began arranging
her hair for the first act.
"Grace," said Anne rather tremulously, "I won't wait until the others
come back to tell you why I came so late. Just after I had finished my
supper and was putting on my wraps a boy came to the door with this
note." Anne went over to where her coat hung and took out an envelope.
Drawing a note from it, she silently handed it to Grace, who read:
"MY DEAR ANNE:
"Will you come up to my house before going to the
hall? I wish to give you something to wear in the
play.
"Yours affectionately,
"ROSE R. GRAY."
"Why, how unlike Mrs. Gray to send for you at the eleventh hour," said
Grace in a puzzled tone. "No wonder you were late. What did she give
you?"
"Nothing," replied Anne. "It was a trick. She never wrote the note,
although the writing looks like hers, and so does the paper. She was
very indignant over it and sent me back in the carriage, telling the
coachman to return for her, for of course she will be here to-night.
I would have arrived much later if I had been obliged to walk. I ran
almost all the way up there. You know Chapel Hill is quite a distance
from my house."
"I should say so," replied Grace. "Who could have been so mean? Anne,
why do you suppose----" Grace stopped suddenly and stared at Anne. "Anne
do you think that Eleanor could have written it?" she said slowly, as
though reluctant to give voice to her suspicion.
"I am afraid so," replied Anne. "She is the only one who could profit by
my being late. Yet if she did write the note, she should have realized
that going to Mrs. Gray's would scarcely keep me away long enough to
miss my first entrance. You know I don't come on until the second
scene."
"There is something more behind this," said Grace, "and I'm going to
find out, too." She darted to the door and opened it upon Nora and
Jessica, who were on the threshold.
"We can't find them," they cried in alarm, "but we told Miss Tebbs and
she'll be here in a minute."
"We didn't say a word to any one else," said Nora, "because they must be
somewhere about, and there is no use in stirring up a lot of unnecessary
excitement."
"Wise little Nora," said Grace, patting her on the shoulder. "Here comes
Miss Tebbs now." She stepped courteously aside to allow the teacher to
enter the dressing room, then, following her, closed the door.
"What is this I hear about losing your costumes, Anne?" asked Miss Tebbs
rather impatiently. "I cautioned the girls last night about taking care
of their things."
Anne flushed at the teacher's curt tones.
"I put them all in that corner, plainly marked, before I left here last
night," she answered. "When I came here to-night they were gone."
"That is strange," said the elder woman. "Have you made a thorough
search for them in the other room?"
"We've gone over every inch of the ground," exclaimed Jessica, "and we
can't find a trace of them. We didn't ask any of the girls about them,
because if we couldn't find them we feel sure the others couldn't. So we
just kept quiet."
"I don't know what is to be done, I'm sure," said Miss Tebbs in an
anxious tone. "It is eight o'clock now and the curtain is supposed to
run up at 8.15. I can hold it until 8.30, but no longer. The house is
already well filled. You might get through the first act in a borrowed
gown, Anne, but what can you do in the second? You know how that costume
had to be altered to fit you. If it can be found before the second act,
all will be well, but suppose you go on in the first act, and it can't
be found, what then? You will spoil the whole production by appearing
in an incorrect or misfit costume, besides bitterly disappointing the
two girls who will have to give up their costumes to you. It is doubly
provoking, because Mr. Southard is here to-night, and is particularly
anxious to see your work."
"Miss Tebbs," exclaimed Grace, "Eleanor Savell has a complete 'Rosalind'
outfit. She had it made purposely. One of the girls told me so. You know
she understudies Anne. Couldn't Anne use that?"
"Impossible, Grace," said Miss Tebbs. "Eleanor is taller than Anne.
Anne's lack of height is her one drawback. If she had not shown such
exceptional talent, 'Rosalind' would have certainly fallen to Miss
Savell or yourself. I am very sorry, but it looks as though Miss Savell
will have to play Rosalind after all, and she must be notified at once."
The three chums turned to Anne, who was biting her lip and trying hard
to keep back her tears. Nora and Jessica looked their silent sympathy,
but Grace stood apparently wrapped in thought.
Miss Tebbs moved toward the door, but as she placed her hand on the knob
Grace sprang eagerly forward.
"Miss Tebbs," she cried, "don't ask Miss Savell. I believe I can find
those costumes yet. Wait here and in five minutes I'll tell you whether
I have succeeded. Please don't ask me what I am going to do. Just trust
me and wait. You will let me try, won't you?" she pleaded.
"Certainly, my child," said Miss Tebbs, "but remember time is precious.
I'll give you five minutes, but if----"
"I'll be back in that time," cried Grace, and was gone, leaving Miss
Tebbs and the three chums mystified but faintly hopeful.
Across the stage she flew and into the other dressing room. The object
of her search was not there. Out she rushed and collided with a girl who
was about to enter.
"Pardon me," said Grace, glancing up, then seized the girl by the arm.
"Eleanor Savell," she exclaimed sternly. "You know where Anne's costumes
are. Don't attempt to deny it."
Eleanor looked contemptuously at Grace and tried to shake herself free,
but Grace's grasp tightened.
"Answer me," she said. "Where are they?"
[Illustration: "Where Are Anne's Costumes?" Cried Grace.]
"Let me go," said Eleanor angrily. "You are hurting my arm. What do
I care about Miss Pierson's costumes?"
"You will care," replied Grace. "For if you don't instantly tell me
where they are, I shall call the whole cast and expose you."
"If you do, you will merely make yourself ridiculous," hissed
Eleanor, her eyes blazing. "What grounds have you for such an
accusation?"
"I can't prove that you are responsible for their disappearance, but
I do know that you shall not play 'Rosalind,' if the costumes are never
found."
"How can you prevent me!" asked Eleanor in insolent tones. "You are not
running this production."
"I have no time to waste in arguing the matter," returned Grace with
admirable self-control. "What I want is the truth about the costumes and
you must answer me."
"'Must,'" repeated Eleanor, raising her eyebrows. "That is putting it
rather strongly. No one ever says 'must' to me."
"I say it to you now, Eleanor, and I mean it," said Grace. "I am fully
convinced that you have hidden Anne's costumes and I am equally certain
that you are going to produce them at once."
"Then you are laboring under a delusion," replied Eleanor, with a
disagreeable laugh, "and I should advise you to devote that tireless
energy of yours, to minding your own business."
"This is my business," replied Grace evenly, "and if you wish to avoid
any unpleasantness you will make it yours."
"Your threats do not alarm me," sneered Eleanor. "I am not easily
frightened."
"Very well," replied Grace, looking steadily at her enemy. "I see that
I shall be obliged to call Miss Thompson back here and tell her who
destroyed her essay. Knowing that, do you suppose you can make her
believe that you did not hide Anne's costumes?"
Eleanor's insolent expression turned to one of fear. "No," she gasped,
"don't call Miss Thompson. You know she hates me, and will disgrace me
in the eyes of the girls."
"And you richly deserve it, Eleanor," replied Grace, "but if you produce
Anne's costumes at once, I'll agree to say nothing. Hurry, for every
second is precious."
"I can't get them," wailed Eleanor. "What shall I do?"
"Where are they?" asked Grace, with compressed lips.
"At--'Heartsease,'" said Eleanor, and burst into tears.
"Oh, what a mess," groaned Grace. "It will take an hour to go there and
back. Oh, I must act quickly. Let me think. Mrs. Gray's coachman would
drive me out, but those horses are so slow. Eleanor," she exclaimed,
turning to the weeping girl, "is your runabout outside?"
"Yes," sobbed Eleanor.
"Then that settles it," cried Grace. "I will go after the things. Tell
me where to find them. Have you a latch key? I can't bother to ring
after I get there."
"I'll go and get my key," said Eleanor, wiping her eyes. "They're in the
wardrobe in my bedroom."
"All right, wait for me at the door and don't say a word. Here come some
of the girls."
Though the time had seemed hours to Grace, her interview with Eleanor
had lasted barely five minutes. She hurried back to where Miss Tebbs and
the three chums awaited her, followed by the curious eyes of a number of
the cast, who wondered vaguely why Grace Harlowe was rushing around at
such a rate.
"Borrow a gown for Anne, Miss Tebbs, for the first act," she cried.
"I'll have the missing costumes here in time for the second. Only
I can't play Orlando. Miriam will have to play it; she's my understudy,
you know. Ethel Dumont can play Miriam's part. They've rehearsed both
parts, and will be all right. Please don't refuse me, Miss Tebbs, but
let me go. It's for Anne's sake. Nora, please bring me my street
clothes."
As she spoke, Grace began rapidly divesting herself of her costume.
"Very well, Grace, have your own way," replied the teacher reluctantly.
"I'll go at once and get a gown for Anne. But don't dare to fail me."
"Thank you, Miss Tebbs. I'll not fail." Slipping into her long coat and
seizing her fur hat, Grace made for the street, stopping for an instant
to take the key from Eleanor, who stood waiting at the door.
"Can you manage the machine?" faltered Eleanor.
"Yes," said Grace curtly. "Go in at once. If you are seen, the girls are
apt to ask questions that you may find hard to answer truthfully."
"Thank goodness, David and Tom taught me something about automobiles
last summer," thought Grace as she prepared to start, "or I should have
been powerless to help Anne to-night. I am going to exceed the speed
limit, that's certain." A moment later she was well into the street and
on her way to "Heartsease." It was a memorable ride to Grace. It seemed
as though the runabout fairly flew over the ground.
"I've only been ten minutes on the way," she breathed as she neared her
destination. Leaving the runabout outside the grounds, she ran up the
drive, and, inserting her key in the door, opened it softly and entered
the wide, old-fashioned hall. Up the steps she hurried, meeting no one,
for Miss Nevin was at Assembly Hall and the servants' quarters were at
the back of the house. Knowing the house as she did, Grace went straight
to Eleanor's room and to the wardrobe. Sure enough, Anne's missing
costumes were lying in a neat heap on the floor. Assuring herself that
everything was there, Grace piled them up in her arms and sped softly
down the stairs, opened the door, and in a twinkling was down the drive
and into the runabout.
She drove back even faster than she had come. As she passed the city
hall clock she drew a breath of relief. It was ten minutes of nine. The
first act was hardly half over. Leaping from the machine with the lost
costumes she ran triumphantly into the dressing room.
"Here she is," shrieked Nora in delight. "I knew she'd make good."
"Are they all there, Grace," anxiously inquired Miss Tebbs. "You dear,
good child. Where did you find them?"
"That is a mystery which even Sherlock Holmes can never solve," replied
Grace, laughing. "Where's Anne?"
"She's on just now with Celia," replied Miss Tebbs, "and is playing up
to her usual form, but she is very nervous and almost broke down after
you left. She feels that you made too great a sacrifice for her in
giving up your part."
"Nonsense," said Grace. "Why should I have sacrificed the star to my own
personal vanity? Miriam Nesbit can play Orlando as well as I, and makes
a more striking appearance at that."
"I don't agree with you, Grace, for you were an ideal 'Orlando,'"
replied Miss Tebbs. "However it's too late for regret, and the best
I can do now is to make you assistant stage manager. Some of those girls
need looking after. Miss Savell had a bad case of stage fright and
almost had to be dragged on. She forgot her lines and had to be
prompted. She's all right now, but I am devoutly thankful she didn't
play 'Rosalind,' for she certainly would not have done justice to it."
Grace smiled grimly as she listened to Miss Tebbs. She could not feel
sorry at Eleanor's recent agitation. Now that the excitement was over,
Grace felt her anger rising. Eleanor's thirst for glory and revenge had
been the means of losing Grace the part that she had so eagerly looked
forward to playing, not to mention the narrow escape Anne had run.
Still, on the whole, Grace felt glad that so far no one knew the truth.
"I think I'll go into the wings. It's almost time for the curtain," she
said to Miss Tebbs. But before she could reach there, the curtain had
rung down and the audience were calling for Celia and Rosalind, who
took the call hand in hand. Then Rosalind took two calls and bowed
herself into the wings and straight into Grace's arms.
"O Grace, how could you do it?" said Anne, with a half sob. "You gave
up your part for me. It's too much. I shan't----"
"You shall," replied Grace, hugging her. "Run along and put on male
attire. I found your stuff and some time I'll tell you where, but not
now."
The play progressed with remarkable smoothness, and the various actors
received unstinted applause from the audience, but from first to last
Anne was the star. Her portrayal of Rosalind left little to be desired.
Time after time Mr. Southard led the applause, and was ably seconded by
Hippy, Reddy, David and Tom, who fairly wriggled with enthusiasm.
Next to Anne, Nora, perhaps, came second. Her delivery of Touchstone's
lines was delightful and she kept the audience in a gale of mirth
whenever she appeared.
It was over at last. The closing line of the Epilogue had been spoken by
Rosalind, and she had taken five curtain calls and retired with her arms
full of flowers. The principal actors in the play had been well
remembered by friends, and the dressing rooms looked like a florist's
shop.
"I'm so sorry. I'd like to begin all over again," said Nora, as she
rubbed her face with cold cream to take off her make-up.
"There's an end to all things," said Jessica practically, "and really
I'm glad to get back into everyday clothes."
"Hurry up, slowpokes," said Grace Harlowe, popping her head in the door.
"Tom Gray is here. He and David are waiting outside with their cars. We
are all going up to Nesbit's for a jollification given in honor of
Rosalind, who is at present dressed in everyday clothes and shaking
hands with the great Southard. He and Miss Tebbs are going, too, and so
is Mrs. Gray."
"Come in, Grace, and tell us where you found Anne's costumes," said
Nora, giving her cheeks a final rub. "We're devoured with curiosity."
"'Thereby hangs a tale,'" replied Grace, "but I refuse to be interviewed
to-night. I'll see you outside. If you're not there in three minutes,
I'll put Hippy on your trail."
Closing the door, Grace walked slowly toward the entrance. The majority
of the girls had gone. Anne still stood talking with Mr. Southard and
Miss Tebbs.
"Grace, come here and speak to Mr. Southard," called Miss Tebbs. "Has
Nora gone? Mr. Southard wishes to congratulate her and you, too."
"She'll be out in a couple of minutes," said Grace, as she advanced to
greet the great actor. "But I am not in line for congratulations, as
I was not in the play."
"I am very sorry that you could not play Orlando to-night. I remember
your work at the try-out," said Mr. Southard in his deep, musical voice.
"Miss Tebbs has told me of the sacrifice you made. You deserve double
congratulations for the part you played behind the scenes."
"It was nothing," murmured Grace, her color rising. "If you are ready,
suppose we go. Mrs. Gray wishes you and Mr. Southard to go in her
carriage, Miss Tebbs. The rest of us will go in the two automobiles."
As they moved toward the door, Grace left them. Going back to the
dressing room, she rapped sharply on the door. "Last call! Look out for
Hippy!" she cried, then hurried to catch up with the others. But before
she reached them she was confronted by Eleanor.
"I've been waiting to see you ever since the play was over," said
Eleanor sullenly.
Grace looked at her in silence. "Well?" she said coldly.
"What are you going to do about to-night--and everything?" asked
Eleanor. "Are you going to tell Miss Thompson?"
"So far I have told nothing, Eleanor," said Grace sternly. "You deserve
no clemency at my hands, however, for you have repeatedly accused myself
and my friends of carrying tales. Something we are above doing. You have
refused our friendship and have been the means of estranging Miss
Thompson and myself.
"When first you came to High School, I promised Mrs. Gray that I would
help you to like High School life. For that reason I have overlooked
lots of things, but to-night caps the climax, and I tell you frankly
that I thoroughly despise your conduct, and if ever again you do
anything to injure myself or my friends, I shall not hesitate to bring
you to book for it."
Eleanor stood clenching her hands in impotent rage. Grace's plain
speaking had roused a tempest in her.
"I hate you, Grace Harlowe, fifty times more than ever before," she
said, her voice shaking with anger. "I intended to leave this miserable
school at the end of the year, but now I shall stay and show you that
you cannot trample upon me with impunity."
Without answering, Grace walked away, leaving Eleanor to stare moodily
after her.