"Keep your nerve!"
The words rang mockingly in the girl's ear long after the good-natured
advance agent had made his departure. Keep her nerve? That was
precisely what she was trying to do, and it was proving almost beyond
her strength. Why had John left her to make this fight alone? He must
have known, even better than she, herself, what a terrific,
heart-breaking struggle it would be. Or did he wish to put her to the
test, to find out if her professed determination to live a new and
cleaner life was genuine and sincere. If that was his motive, surely
she had been tried enough. Then, as she gave herself up to reflection,
doubts began to creep in, doubts of herself, doubts of him. If he
really loved her, truly and unselfishly, would he let her suffer in
this way, would he have so completely deserted her? It did not once
occur to her that John, being thousands of miles away, could not
possibly realize her present plight. A sudden feeling of rebellion came
over her. She began to nourish resentment that he should show such
little concern, that he should have taken no steps to keep informed of
her circumstances.
For a long-time she sat in moody silence, engrossed in deep thought,
listening only abstractedly to the street sounds without. Presently her
glance, wandering aimlessly around the room, fell on the letter she had
just received from Goldfield. She picked it up, as if about to read it;
then, as if in anger, she threw it impatiently from her. Leaning
forward on the table, her face buried in her two hands, she broke down
completely:
"I can't stand it--I just simply can't stand it," she moaned to
herself.
A sudden knock on the door caused her to sit up with a jump. Rising,
confused, as if surprised in some guilty action, she called out:
"What is it?"
"A lady to see you!" cried Annie's shrill voice on the other side of
the door.
Laura went to open.
"To see me?" she exclaimed in unaffected surprise.
"It's me--Elfie," called out a familiar voice below. "May I come up?"
Laura started. Her face turned red and white in turns. Elfie St. Clair!
Should she see her, or say she was out? Yet, why shouldn't she see her?
She needed some one like Elfie to cheer her up. Drying her eyes, she
quickly pulled herself together, and hastened to the top of the stairs.
Her voice, trembling with suppressed excitement, almost unable to
control the agitation that suddenly seized upon her, she cried out:
"Is that you, Elfie?"
"Yes, shall I come up?"
"Why, of course--of course!"
Panting and flushed from the extraordinary exertion of climbing two
flights of stairs, Elfie at last appeared, gorgeously gowned in the
extreme style affected by ladies who contract alliances with wealthy
gentlemen without the formality of going through a marriage ceremony.
Her dress, of the latest fashion and the richest material, with
dangling gold handbag and chatelaine, contrasted strangely with Laura's
shabbiness and the general dinginess of Mrs. Farley's boarding-house.
But the two girls were too glad to see each other to care about
anything else. With little cries of delight, they fell into each
other's arms.
"Laura, you old dear!" exclaimed the newcomer in her customary
explosive and vivacious manner. "I've just found out where you've been
hiding, and came around to see you."
"That's awfully good of you, Elfie. You're looking bully. How are you,
dear?"
"Fine."
"Come in, and sit down. I haven't much to offer, but----"
Laura was visibly embarrassed. Even her forced gayety and attempt at
cordiality did not quite conceal her nervousness. It was the first time
that Elfie had seen her living in such surroundings, and, in spite of
her efforts to remain cool and self-possessed, her cheeks burned with
humiliation.
"Oh, never mind," said Elfie quickly. Her first glance had told her how
matters stood, but she made no comment. Good-naturedly, she rattled on:
It's such a grand day outside, and I've come around in my car to take
you out. You know, I've got a new one, and it can go some.
"I am sorry, but I can't go out this afternoon, Elfie."
"What's the matter?"
"You see, I'm staying home a good deal nowadays. I haven't been feeling
very well, and I don't go out much."
"I should think not. I haven't seen even a glimpse of you anywhere
since you returned from Denver. I caught sight of you one day on
Broadway, but couldn't get you--you dived into some office or other."
Rising from her chair, for the first time she surveyed the room
critically. Unable to contain herself any longer, she burst out
explosively:
"Gee! Whatever made you come into a dump like this? It's the limit!"
Laura smiled uneasily. Going to the table, she said awkwardly:
"Oh, I know it isn't pleasant, but it's my home, and, after all--a
home's a home."
Elfie shrugged her shoulders.
"Looks more like a prison." Finding on the mantel a bit of stale candy,
she popped it into her mouth from sheer force of habit. But it was no
sooner in than, with an expression of disgust, she spat it out on the
floor. Scornfully, she added: "Makes me think of the old days, the
dairy kitchen and a hall bedroom,"
Laura sighed.
"It's comfortable," she said wearily.
"Not!" retorted Elfie saucily. Sitting on the bed, she jumped on the
mattress as if trying it: "Say, is this here for effect, or do you
sleep on it?"
"I sleep on it," said Laura quietly.
"No wonder you look tired," laughed her caller. "Say, listen, dearie,
what else is the matter with you, anyway?"
Laura looked up at her companion in pretended surprise.
"Matter?" she echoed. "Why, nothing."
"Oh, yes, there is," insisted Elfie, shaking her head sagaciously.
"What's happened between you and Brockton?" Noticing the faded flowers
in the vase on the table, she took them out, and after tossing them
into the fireplace, refilled the vase with the fresh gardenias which
she was wearing. Meantime, she did not stop chattering. "He's not
broke, because I saw him the other day."
"You saw him? Where?"
"In the park. He asked me out to luncheon, but I couldn't go. You know,
dearie, I've got to be so careful. Jerry's so awful jealous--the old
fool."
Laura had to smile in spite of herself.
"Do you see much of Jerry nowadays?"
"Not any more than I can help and be nice," chuckled Elfie. "He gets on
my nerves. Of course, I have heard about your quitting Brockton."
"Then why do you ask?" demanded Laura.
"Just wanted to hear from your own dear lips what the trouble was. Now,
tell me all about it. Can I smoke here?"
Pulling her gold cigarette-case up with her chatelaine, she opened it,
and selected a cigarette.
"Certainly," said Laura, getting the matches from the bureau and
putting them on the table.
"Have one?" said her companion.
"No, thank you," said Laura, sitting down so that she faced her
companion.
"H'm-m, h'm-m, hah!" sputtered Elfie, lighting her cigarette. "Now, go
ahead. Tell me all the scandal. I'm just crazy to know."
"There's nothing to tell," said Laura wearily. "I haven't been able to
find work, that is all, and I'm short of money. You can't live in
hotels, you know, and have cabs and all that sort of thing, when you're
not working."
"Yes, you can," retorted her visitor. "I haven't worked in a year."
"But you don't understand, dear. I--I--well, you know, I--well, you
know--I can't say what I want."
"Oh, yes, you can. You can say anything to me--everybody else does.
We've been pals. I know you got along a little faster in the business
than I did. The chorus was my limit, and you went into the legitimate
thing. But we got our living just the same way. I didn't suppose there
was any secret between you and me about that."
"I know there wasn't then, Elfie; but I tell you I'm different now. I
don't want to do that sort of thing, and I've been very unlucky. This
has been a terribly hard season for me. I simply haven't been able to
get an engagement."
"Well, you can't get on this way," said Elfie. She paused a moment,
knocking the ashes off her cigarette to cover her hesitation, and then
went on: "Won't Brockton help you out?"
Laura rose abruptly and walked over to the fireplace. With some display
of impatience, she exclaimed:
"What's the use of talking to you, Elfie? You don't understand."
Her legs crossed in masculine style, and puffing the cigarette
deliberately, Elfie looked at her friend quizzingly:
"No?" she said mockingly. "Why don't I understand?"
"Because you can't," cried Laura hotly; "you've never felt as I have."
"How do you know?" demanded the other, with an elevation of her
eyebrows.
Laura made a gesture of impatience.
"Oh, what's the use of explaining?" she cried.
Her visitor looked at her for a moment without making reply. Then, with
the serious, reproachful manner of a mother reproving a wayward child,
she said:
"You know, Laura, I'm not much on giving advice, but you make me sick.
I thought you'd grown wise. A young girl just butting into this
business might possibly make a fool of herself, but you ought to be
onto the game, and make the best of it."
Laura was fast losing her temper. Her eyes flashed, and her hands
worked nervously. Angrily, she exclaimed:
"If you came up here, Elfie, to talk that sort of stuff to me, please
don't. Out West this summer, I met some one, a real man, who did me a
lot of good. You know him. You introduced him to me that night at the
restaurant. Well, we met again in Denver. I learned to love him. He
opened my eyes to a different way of going along. He's a man who--oh,
well, what's the use! You don't know--you don't know."
She tossed her head disdainfully as if the matter was not worthy of
further discussion, and sank down on the bed. Elfie, who had listened
attentively, removed the cigarette from her mouth, and threw it into
the fireplace. Scornfully, she said:
"I don't know, don't I? I don't know, I suppose, then, when I came to
this town from up-State--a little burg named Oswego--and joined a
chorus, that I didn't fall in love with just such a man. I suppose I
don't know that then I was the best-looking girl in New York, and
everybody talked about me? I suppose I don't know that there were men,
all ages, and with all kinds of money, ready to give me anything for
the mere privilege of taking me out to supper? And I didn't do it, did
I? For three years I stuck by this good man, who was to lead me in a
good way, toward a good life. And all the time I was getting older,
never quite so pretty one day as I had been the day before. I never
knew then what it was to be tinkered with by hairdressers and
manicures, or a hundred and one of those other people who make you look
good. I didn't have to have them then." Rising, she went up to the
table and faced her companion. "Well, you know, Laura, what happened."
"Wasn't it partly your fault, Elfie?"
Her friend leaned across the table, her face flushed with anger.
"Was it my fault that time made me older and I took on a lot of flesh?
Was it my fault that the work and the life took out the color, and left
the make-up? Was it my fault that other pretty young girls came along,
just as I'd come, and were chased after, just as I was? Was it my fault
the cabs weren't waiting any more and people didn't talk about how
pretty I was? And was it my fault when he finally had me alone, and
just because no one else wanted me, he got tired and threw me flat----"
Bringing her hand down on the table with a bang, she added: "Cold
flat--and I'd been on the dead level with him." With almost a sob, she
went up to the bureau, powdered her nose, and returned to the table.
"It almost broke my heart. Then I made up my mind to get even and get
all I could out of the game. Jerry came along. He was a has-been, and I
was on the road to be. He wanted to be good to me, and I let him.
That's all!"
"Still, I don't see how you can live that way," said Laura, lying back
on the bed.
"Well, you did," retorted Elfie, "and you didn't kick."
"Yes," rejoined Laura calmly, "but things are different with me now.
You'd be the same way if you were in my place."
"No," laughed Elfie mockingly, "I've had all the romance I want, and
I'll stake you to all your love affairs. I am out to gather in as much
coin as I can in my own way, so when the old rainy day comes along I'll
have a little change to buy myself an umbrella."
Laura started angrily to her feet. Hotly she cried:
"What did you come here for? Why can't you leave me alone when I'm
trying to get along?"
"Because I want to help you," retorted Elfie calmly.
With tears streaming down her cheeks, almost hysterical, Laura tossed
aside the quilt and sank down in a heap on the bed.
"You can't help me!" she sobbed. "I'm all right--I tell you I am."
Peevishly she demanded: "What do you care, anyway?"
Elfie rose, and going over to the bed, sat down and took her old chum's
hand. Quietly she said:
"But I do care. I know how you feel with an old cat for a landlady, and
living up here on a side street with a lot of cheap burlesque people."
Laura snatched her hand away, and going up to the window, turned her
back. It was a direct snub, but Elfie did not care. Unabashed, she went
on: "Why, the room's cold, and there's no hot water, and you're
beginning to look shabby. You haven't got a job--chances are you won't
have one." Pointing contemptuously to the picture of John Madison over
the bed, she went on: "What does that fellow do for you? Send you long
letters of condolences? That's what I used to get. When I wanted to buy
a new pair of shoes or a silk petticoat he told me how much he loved
me; so I had the other ones re-soled and turned the old petticoat. And
look at you--you're beginning to show it." Surveying her friend's face
more closely, she went on: "I do believe there are lines coming in your
face, and you hide in the house because you've nothing to wear."
Jumping off the bed, Laura went quickly to the dresser, and picking up
the hand mirror, looked carefully at herself. Then laying the glass
down, she turned and faced the other. Sharply she retorted:
"But I've got what you haven't got. I may have to hide my clothes, but
I don't have to hide my face. And you with that man--he's old enough to
be your father--a toddling dote, hanging on your apron strings. I don't
see how you dare show your face to a decent woman!"
It was Elfie's turn now to lose her temper. She rose, flushed with
anger.
"You don't, eh?" she cried hotly. "But you did once, and I never caught
you hanging your head. You say he's old. I know he's old, but he's good
to me. He's making what's left of my life pleasant. You think I like
him. I don't--sometimes I hate him--but he understands; and you can bet
your life his cheque is in my mail every Saturday night, or there's a
new lock on the door Sunday morning."
"How dare you say such things to me?" exclaimed Laura indignantly.
"Because I want you to be square with yourself. You've lost all that
precious virtue women gab about. When you've got the name, I say get
the game."
Almost speechless from anger, Laura pointed to the door.
"You can go now, Elfie, and don't come back!"
"All right," exclaimed Elfie, gathering up her muff and gloves, "if
that's the way you want it to be, I'm sorry."
She was hurrying toward the door, when suddenly there came a knock.
Laura, with an effort, controlled herself.
"Come in," she called out.
Annie entered, with a note, which she handed to Laura.
"Mis' Farley sent dis, Miss Laura."
Laura read the note. A look of mingled annoyance and embarrassment came
into her face.
"There's no answer," she said sharply, crushing the note up in her
hand.
But Annie was not to be put off.
"She tol' me not to leave until Ah got an answah."
"You must ask her to wait," retorted Laura doggedly.
"She wants an answer," persisted the negress.
"Tell her I'll be right down--that it will be all right."
"But, Miss Laura, she tol' me to get an answah."
She went out reluctantly, closing the door.
"She's taking advantage of your being here," exclaimed Laura
apologetically, half to herself and half to her visitor.
"How?" demanded Elfie.
"She wants money--three weeks' room-rent. I presume she thought you'd
give it to me."
"Huh!" exclaimed the other, tossing her head.
Changing her tone, Laura went up to her.
"Elfie," she said, "I've been a little cross; I didn't mean it."
"Well?" demanded her companion.
"Could--could you lend me thirty-five dollars until I get to work?"
"Me?" demanded her visitor, in indignant astonishment.
"You actually have the face to ask me to lend you thirty-five dollars?"
"Yes, you've got plenty of money to spare."
"Well, you certainly have got a nerve!" exclaimed Elfie.
"You might give it to me," pleaded Laura. "I haven't a dollar in the
world, and you pretend to be such a friend to me!"
Elfie turned angrily.
"So that's the kind of a woman you are, eh? A moment ago you were going
to kick me out of the place because I wasn't decent enough to associate
with you. You know how I live. You know how I get my money--the same
way you got most of yours. And now that you've got this spasm of
goodness, I'm not fit to be in your room; but you'll take my money to
pay your debts. You'll let me go out and do this sort of thing for your
benefit, while you try to play the grand lady. I've got your number
now, Laura. Where in hell is your virtue, anyway? You can go to the
devil, rich, poor, or any other way. I'm off!"
She rushed toward the door. For a moment Laura stood speechless; then,
with a loud cry, she broke down and burst into hysterics:
"Elfie! Elfie! Don't go now! Don't leave me now! Don't go!" Her visitor
stood hesitating, with one hand on the doorknob. Laura went on: "I
can't stand it. I can't be alone. Don't go, please, don't go!"
She fell into her friend's arms, sobbing. On the instant Elfie's
hardness of demeanor changed. With all her coarseness, she was a
good-natured woman at heart. Melting into the tenderest womanly
sympathy, she tried her best to express herself in her crude way.
Leading the weeping girl to the armchair, she made her sit down. Then,
seating herself on the arm, she put her arm round her old chum and
hugged her to her breast.
"There, old girl," she said soothingly, "don't cry, don't cry. You just
sit down here and let me put my arms around you. I'm awful sorry--on
the level, I am. I shouldn't have said it, I know that. But I've got
feelings, too, even if folks don't give me credit for it."
Laura looked up through her tears.
"I know, Elfie, I've gone through about all I can stand."
Her friend smoothed her by stroking her hair.
"Well, I should say you have--and more than I would. Anyway, a good cry
never hurts any woman. I have one myself sometimes, under cover."
As Laura recovered control of herself, she grew meditative. Musingly
she said:
"Perhaps what you said was true."
"We won't talk about it--there!" said Elfie, drying her friend's eyes
and kissing her.
"But perhaps it was true," persisted Laura, "and then----"
"And then----"
"I think I've stood this just as long; as I can. Every day is a living
horror----"
Elfie nodded acquiescence. Glancing round the room, she exclaimed, with
a comical grimace of disgust:
"It's the limit!"
"I've got to have money to pay the rent," continued Laura anxiously.
"I've pawned everything I have, except the clothes on my back----"
Elfie threw her arms consolingly round her friend.
"I'll give you all the money you need, dearie. Great heavens, don't
worry about that! Don't you care if I got sore and--lost my head."
Laura shook her head.
"No, I can't let you do that. You may have been mad--awfully mad--but
what you said was the truth. I can't take your money."
"Oh, forget that!" laughed Elfie.
Laura put up a hand to cool her burning forehead. Looking out of the
window, she said wistfully:
"Maybe--maybe if he knew all about it--the suffering--he wouldn't blame
me."
"Who?" cried Elfie sarcastically. "The good man who wanted to lead you
to the good life without even a bread-basket for an advance agent?
Huh!"
"He doesn't know how desperately poor I am," explained Laura
half-apologetically.
"He knows you're out of work, don't he?"
"Not exactly. I told him it was difficult to find an engagement, but he
has no idea that things are as they are."
"Then you're a chump!" declared Elfie, with an expressive shrug of her
shoulders. "Hasn't he sent you anything?"
"He hasn't anything to send."
Elfie bounded with indignant surprise.
"What? Then what does he think you're going to live on--asphalt
croquettes with conversation sauce?"
Sinking down on a chair, Laura gave way again.
"I don't know--I don't know!" she cried, sobbing.
Elfie went over to her friend and placed her arms about her.
"Don't be foolish, dearie. You know there is somebody waiting for
you--somebody who'll be good to you and get you out of this mess."
Laura looked up quickly.
"You mean Will Brockton?" she said, fixing her companion with a steady
stare.
"Yes."
"Do you know where he is?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
"You won't get sore again if I tell you, will you?"
Laura rose.
"No--why?" she said.
"He's downstairs--waiting in the car. I promised to tell him what you
said."
"Then it was all planned, and--and----"
"Now, dearie, I knew you were up against it, and I wanted to bring you
two together. He's got half of the Burgess shows, and if you'll only
see him, everything will be fixed."
"When does he want to see me?"
"Now."
"Here?"
"Yes. Shall I tell him to come up?"
Motionless as a statue, Laura made no sign. Her face pale as death, her
hands clasped in front of her, she stood as if transfixed, staring out
of the window.
"Shall I tell him to come up?" repeated Elfie impatiently.
Still no answer for a long moment that seemed like an hour. Then all at
once, with a quick, convulsive movement, as if by a determined effort
she had succeeded in conquering her own will, she turned and cried,
with a half sob:
"Yes--yes--tell him to come up!"
Elfie sprang joyously forward. Her arguments had not been in vain,
after all. Kissing her friend's cold cheeks, she exclaimed:
"Now you're a sensible dear. I'll bet he's half-frozen down there. I'll
send him up at once."
Anxious to get Brockton there before the girl had a chance to change
her mind, she was hurrying toward the door, when she happened to notice
Laura's red eyes and tear-stained face. That would never do. Coming
back, she exclaimed:
"Look at you, Laura! You're a perfect sight!"
Throwing her gloves and muff onto a chair, she led the girl to the
washstand, and taking a towel, wiped her eyes and face.
"It'll never do to have him see you looking like this!" she said. "Now,
Laura, I want you to promise me you won't do any more crying. Come over
here and let me powder your nose----"
Incapable of further resistance, feeling herself a helpless victim in
the hands of irrevocable Fate, Laura followed docilely to the dresser,
where Elfie took the powder-puff and powdered her face. This done, she
daubed her cheeks with the rouge-paw and pencilled her lips and
eyebrows. As she worked, she rattled on:
"Now, when he comes up, you tell him he has got to blow us all off to a
swell dinner to-night--seven-thirty. Let me look at you----"
Laura put up her face like an obedient child. Elfie kissed her.
"Now you're all right," she said cheerfully. "Make it strong,
now--seven-thirty, don't forget. I'll be there. So-long."
Going to the armchair and gathering up the muff and gloves she had
thrown there, Elfie left the room.