It is certain that Jerry drove those three women like sweat-shop slaves
until the costumes were finished. Jane struck on the second afternoon.
"We must have our dinner sent in to us. I can't stop to get it," she
said.
"All right; only for the love of the prophets, don't stop."
"How do you spell 'profits,' Jerry?" said Bobs. "It's outrageous for you
to work us like this."
"I told you not to do it," he snapped.
"We've got a mortgage on you for the rest of your life," she laughed.
"Just so you don't foreclose now. You are perfect, white-winged seraphs
to do this, and I will never get even with you."
The society girls, cast for the "vestal virgins," began to arrive at the
studio to try on their robes. They seemed at a loss how to classify the
three women, whom Jerry introduced as his friends. It was obvious that
handsome Jerry was their idol. One girl especially amused them.
"So, this is where you live, Mr. Paxton?" she sighed. "How fascinating!
I do adore Bohemia!"
"Yes? Well, just go into the bedroom and let Miss Judd help you put on
the costume," he said hurriedly, not daring to look at his grinning
friends.
"Your bedroom!" said the adoring one, in the tone of a pilgrim at Mecca.
Jane followed her into the bedroom, while Jerry tried to quiet Bobs and
Jinny. It was interesting to note how unobtrusively Jane had taken
charge of the work. She cut, directed, and fitted the gowns. The others
sewed seams.
The gushing girl talked about Jerry and his gifts.
"Isn't Mr. Paxton too wonderful? He's a perfect director. And handsome!
I think he is the handsomest man in New York!"
Jane made no comment.
"Are you an artist, too?"
"No."
"You don't look like an artist. So this is where he sleeps. Don't you
think it looks like him?"
"Not especially. Now let Mr. Paxton see that on you."
With blushes and smiles the "vestal virgin" presented herself to Jerry's
gaze. His eyes sought Jane's, and were relieved to find an answering
gleam of amusement there. When the girl was finally disposed of, Bobs
said:
"Are all of them in love with you, Jerry?"
"Silly idiot!" was his reply.
"Jerry, the well beloved!" she scoffed.
"You're as silly as the rest of 'em, Bobs," he protested.
"Wait until the show is over and they really get after our Jerry,"
teased Jinny.
"Rubbish! When the show's over, I'm through."
"What blessed innocents men are. He really believes that, poor dear,"
sighed Bobs.
"Talk on; talk on! Thank heaven, Jane Judd doesn't talk."
The day that the costumes were finished was the last the three women saw
of Jerry. The prophets swallowed him up. He flung himself on his bed at
all hours of early morning, after rehearsal. He ate where and when he
could. Never had his powers been called on to such an extent. He had to
deal with two hundred women. He needed the endurance of an ox, with the
wisdom of a serpent. He met jealousy, anger, hatred, social politics,
with the same genial tact. The women were crazy about him. He refused to
referee any fight, and he had a committee select the chief actors in the
drama.
The night before the performance they rehearsed until two in the
morning. They were all to spend the day of the great event in rest.
Jerry slept until early afternoon, then walked to the club to look over
the ballroom for the last time. It was extremely beautiful, and he felt
satisfied with it. At the top of a wide sweep of stairs a circular
window showed blue, star-specked night beyond. It was against this
background that the groups were to assemble. The effect of the costumes
against the blue-black of the sky proved very successful.
It seemed to Jerry as he went out onto the street again that this
pageant had absorbed his whole life, that he had thought in Biblical
terms and planned for this all his days. He realized that new currents
were astir in him, that new people were crowding in. To-morrow he must
take stock of the whole experience, mark where he was going.
He walked past Bobs's door, on his way to his own, and rapped. She
called out and he went in. She was lying on a couch.
"What's up; anything?"
"I was knocked down by an automobile, that's all."
"What? How did it happen?"
She explained the accident, how she had refused to go to a hospital, and
how some nice, strange man had carried her home and gone for the doctor.
He, on his arrival, had ordered perfect quiet, said there was no real
damage done, except to nerves. She raged at the idea of being
interrupted in her work, and to comfort her Jerry suggested that he have
dinner sent in for both of them, from a near-by cafe.
"Jane is here to take care of me, but you can have dinner with us."
"All right, if you'll have it soon. I've got to get into my leopard skin
and get down there early."
"Go tell Jane."
He discovered her in the kitchenette, and delivered the message. She
nodded. Jerry entertained the invalid until Jane appeared with food;
then he hurried off to dress, promising to return later and display
himself as David.
In half an hour the door burst open unceremoniously and Jerry came in.
Both women exclaimed. He was David, the goatherd, clad in a skin,
carrying his sling. His splendid body was revealed and led up to the
boyish beauty of his head. He had let his hair grow a trifle long for
the occasion, so that it curled as softly as a Greek god's. The way his
head rose from his shoulders was thrilling. But this impression of
splendid youth was dimmed by his evident distress.
"This damned thing will be the end of me yet!" he cried. "The girl who
was to be Salome has failed us."
"Jerry! What a shame!"
"Her mother is dangerously ill. Mrs. Brendon has just telephoned. She is
trying to get a professional dancer. We've got to have _somebody_ there.
They're sending the costume here. Bobs, _you_ could do it."
"Jerry, I can't stand up."
"Oh, Lord, there's Jinny. I'll get her."
He was gone only a moment.
"Nobody there," he groaned.
"They've gone out to dinner," Jane said.
"Jane, be an angel and go round the neighbourhood and try to find the
Chatfields. I can't go round in this rig."
She hurried off. Half an hour later she came back, breathless and
flushed, to find Jerry nearly beside himself with nervous excitement,
and Bobs white as death.
"They aren't anywhere. They must have gone uptown to dine," she
reported.
"Jane could do it," said Bobs.
Jerry looked at Jane, flushed, eyes shining. He had never seen her
before.
"By the Living Light! Jane Judd, will you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Be Salome in my show."
"Certainly not."
"But you've got to! Listen! Put on the costume, and do as I tell you.
We'll cut the dance, so you won't have a thing to do but walk down a
flight of stairs."
"Jane, you've got to do it," cried Bobs. "Somebody has got to help Jerry
out, and you're the only one left."
"But I couldn't do it. I never was in a show. I would mix it all up."
"No, you wouldn't. The whole success of this scene is up to you, Miss
Judd. Won't you _please_ do it? We ought to be there in thirty minutes."
"Where's the costume?"
"Here. It came while you were gone."
Bobs sat up and began taking it out of the box.
"I can't do it, Mr. Paxton," Jane repeated.
He sank down on a chair, despair writ large. Bobs swung her feet round
to the floor, and rose, but dizziness flung her back on the couch with a
groan.
"All right," said Jane, "give it to me."
She picked up the costume and went into the bedroom.
"Get me in there, Jerry; I want to boss this," said Bobs.
He carried her into the bedroom, and left them.
"Take off your clothes, Jane, and let down your hair," ordered Bobs.
Jane, once having made up her mind, hesitated at nothing. She undressed
quickly, and let down her mane.
"Lord, what hair!" cried Bobs. "Part it in the middle; make it into two
braids and weave these jewels into it."
After that they worked together in silence, except for Bobs's brief
commands. She put Jane's make-up on, as the girl knelt before her. The
costume was very beautiful, very daring.
"Have I got to show my skin there?" Jane asked.
"Yes. Your skin is good; why not?"
Jane frowned, but went on, getting the costume adjusted. When it was
complete, headdress and all, Bobs sighed.
"You're all right," she said. "Come look at her, Jerry."
He appeared at the door and stared.
"Jane Judd!" he exclaimed. "Why, Bobs, she's great, she's wonderful!"
Bobs nodded.
"Come on," said Jane.
"Turn around," he ordered. "Do you know about Salome, Jane?"
"'I am Salome, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judea! Speak again,
Jokanaan, thy voice is music to mine ear.'"
"What's this?"
"'Tetrarch, I would that they presently bring me, on a silver charger,
the head of Jokanaan,'" Jane cried softly.
Jerry look embarrassed.
"Oh, my word," laughed Bobs. "Cinderella quoting Oscar Wilde to her
fairy godfather!"