GREETING OLD FRIENDS
To spend their brief holiday with the Southards was the next best thing
to going home, in the opinion of the Oakdale girls. Mr. Southard met
them at the station with his automobile, and a twenty minutes' drive
brought them to the Southard home. Miss Southard met them at the door
with welcoming arms. She was particularly delighted to see Anne, for the
few weeks Anne had spent in their house had endeared her to the
Southards and made them wish her their "little sister" in reality rather
than by fond adoption.
"What shall we do after dinner to-night?" asked Miss Southard, as she
showed her guests to their rooms after the first affectionate greetings
had been exchanged. "Everett, as you know, is appearing as Hamlet, and
wishes you to see him in the part. However, he has engaged a box for us
for to-morrow night. To-night we will go to some other theatre if you
wish."
"To tell you the truth," replied Anne, slipping her hand into that of
the older woman, "we'd rather spend the evening quietly with you. That
is, unless you care particularly about our going out."
Miss Southard's face revealed her pleasure at this announcement. "Would
you really?" she asked. "I should like to have you girls to myself
rather than go to the theatre, but I supposed you would prefer seeing a
successful play to staying at home with me."
"Nothing could drag us from the house after that confession," laughed
Grace. "For my part I think it would be much nicer to stay at home. We
have so much to tell you."
Dinner was a merry meal. Mr. Southard, who in the meantime had come in
from the theatre, became so absorbed in the conversation of his young
guests that both he and his sister forgot the time. The entrance into
the dining room of James, his valet, with his hat and coat, and the
warning words, "Ten minutes past seven, sir," caused him to spring from
his chair, glance at his watch with a rueful smile, and hurry out to
where his car stood waiting for him.
"It's nice to be an idol of the public, but it's hard on the idol just
the same," sighed Grace, as the door closed after him. "Shall we see him
again to-night?"
"You may stay up and wait for him if you wish," returned Miss Southard,
"but it will be after midnight. 'Hamlet' is a long play."
"I saw Mr. Southard in 'Hamlet' long before I knew him," remarked Anne.
"My father and I were in New York rehearsing the play in which I
afterwards refused to work. The manager of our company was a friend of
Mr. Southard. One night he asked me if I would like to see the greatest
actor in America play 'Hamlet.' I said that Everett Southard was the
only man I ever wished to see in the role. I shall never forget how I
felt when he handed me a slip of paper. It was in Mr. Southard 's
handwriting and called for two seats at the theatre where he was
playing. He said he had asked Mr. Southard for the passes purposely for
me, because," Anne flushed slightly, "he insisted that in me lay the
making of a great artist, and that I ought to see nothing but the great
plays, enacted by great players."
"How interesting!" exclaimed Grace. "You never told us anything about
your stage days before. What did you think after you saw 'Hamlet'?"
"I went about in a dream for days afterward," confessed Anne. "Then, I
began to hate the play we were rehearsing, and finally ended by refusing
to stay in the company. Mother was with my sister in Oakdale, so I went
to them. I felt that there was no chance for me to ever become great. I
had no faith in my own ability, and I was determined not to waste my
life as a second or third rate actor. So I gave up the stage and decided
to try to get an education, then teach. You know the rest of my story.
Now comes the hardest part. After giving up all idea of the stage, the
door that I thought was barred has been opened to me. The unbelievable
has come to pass, and I have in a measure achieved what once seemed
unattainable. Do you think that I ought to bury my one talent when my
college days are over and become a teacher, or do you believe that I
should put it to good use by becoming an exponent of the highest
dramatic art?"
Anne paused, looking almost melancholy in her earnestness.
"My dear child," said Miss Southard gravely. "You are straining your
mental eyes with trying to look into the future. Wait until graduation
day comes. By that time you will know what is best for you to do. As far
as your work in the theatre is concerned, I consider that it is far more
to your credit to use the talent God has given you to help yourself
through college, than to wear yourself out doing tutoring or servants'
work. There is no stigma attached to my brother's art, why should there
be to yours?"
"Good for you, Miss Southard," cheered Grace. "I'll tell you a secret.
Anne thinks just as you do, only she won't say so."
"While you are here, Anne, Everett wishes you to meet Mr. Forest, the
manager of the stock company he wrote you about," continued Miss
Southard.
"He is a playwright, producer and manager all in one, isn't he?" asked
Miriam. "I have seen ever so many pictures of him, and read a great deal
about him. They say he is always on the lookout for material for stars."
"Yes," returned Miss Southard. "He was in Europe during Anne's
engagement here last winter. Nevertheless, he heard of her and asked
Everett a great many questions about her. I think he will offer her an
engagement for next summer with a certain stock company which he
controls."
"How can I ever repay you and Mr. Southard for all you have done for
me?" said Anne earnestly.
"By accepting the engagement," laughed Grace.
"Grace is right," agreed Miss Southard. "Everett and I are trying to
help Anne in the way we think best."
"Then I will be pleasing myself, too," confessed Anne. "For I love my
dramatic work as well as I do that of the college. Now, let us talk
about Oakdale and all our friends. We have so many things to tell you."
It was after eleven o'clock when the girls retired. They had decided not
to stay up until Mr. Southard's return. Once in their rooms they found
themselves too sleepy for conversation and five minutes after their
lights were out they were fast asleep.
They were up in good season the next morning, as it had been agreed that
they should be present at the morning service in the church the
Southards attended. Thanksgiving dinner was to be served at exactly half
past twelve o'clock, instead of at night, for Mr. Southard had a matinee
as well as an evening performance to give and never left the theatre for
dinner during this short intermission.
In church that morning as she sat listening to the beautiful service,
Grace felt that she had everything for which to be thankful. In her
heart she said an earnest little prayer for all those unfortunates to
whom life had grudged even bread. She resolved to be more kind and
helpful during the coming year, and prayed that she might see the right
clearly and have the courage always to choose it.
"I felt as though I wanted to be superlatively good all the rest of my
life," confessed Miriam on the way home. "That minister preached as
though he loved the whole world and wished it to be happy."
"He does. He is a very fine man," said Miss Southard, "and does splendid
work among the very poor people. It will perhaps surprise you to know
that he was at one time an actor of great promise in Mr. Southard's
company. Then he received the conviction that his duty lay in entering
the ministry and he left the stage, entered a theological institute and
after receiving his degree came back to New York as the pastor of a
small church on the East Side. Everett and I were among his most
faithful parishioners. Then later on he received an appointment to the
church we just left, and has been there ever since."
"That will be an interesting story to tell the girls when we go back to
college," said Grace thoughtfully. "He is a wonderful man, he made me
feel as though it paid to do one's best."
"That is the reason he has been so successful in his work, I suppose,"
remarked Anne. "He makes other people feel that it pays to be good,
too."
From the subject of the actor-minister the conversation drifted to
Overton. Miss Southard listened interestedly to Grace's vivid
description of the college, the various halls and even the faculty.
"Then you are satisfied with your choice? You never wish that you had
entered Vassar or Smith or any other college?"
"Yes, I am satisfied," declared Grace, while Miriam and Anne echoed her
reply, but Grace might have truthfully added that there were times when
even the glorious privilege of being an Overton freshman had its
drawbacks.