The event had certainly come to a startling climax. Even Lily herself,
writing a dozen "Duchess of Dawnleighs," could not have imagined quite
so serious a situation to balk the determination of her created
heroines, as here had arrived to balk herself!
"Well, Lil," Laura said to her, as the girl got out of the sleigh. "I
guess you won't run away to-day and leave us all in a fix--and spoil
Jess's play. What do you think?"
"Oh, Laura! is poor Mike hurt?" cried the girl, and from that moment
Laura thought better of her. For Lil showed she was not entirely
heartless. She had thought first of the old coachman who had served her
family for so many years, and who was even then probably helping her to
get to Keyport and the expected performance of "The Duchess of
Dawnleigh," against his own good sense.
"Here he comes, limping," said Laura, rather brusquely. "He's not dead.
But how about Plornish?"
"Plornish?" returned Lil, puzzled.
"Pizotti, then, if you prefer his stage name."
"Is--isn't Pizotti his name?" demanded Lil, still struggling with her
tears.
"His real name is Abel Plornish," said Laura, bluntly. She saw no use in
"letting Lily down easy." "He has a wife and seven children living down
on Governor Street, in a miserable tenement. He neglects them a good
deal, I believe. But this time, if he had made what he expected to out
of you----By the way, Lil, what were you going to pay him?"
"I--I----For putting me on the stage with his company?" she stammered.
"Is that the way he put it? Well, yes," said Laura. "It's the same
thing. He was going to star you in your own play, was he?"
"Ye--es," sobbed Lily. "And now it's all spoiled! And I was going to
take all the money I pawned grandmother's jewels for----"
"Goodness me! How much?" snapped Laura.
"Five hundred dollars."
"Has he got the cash?"
"No," sobbed Lil.
"All right, then. No harm done. I went to Mr. Monterey and he found out
that Plornish had got together no company at all. You were the only
person who had learned a part in your play, I guess, Lily. Ah! Chet's
got him."
Indeed, Chet had stopped the aero-iceboat and run back to the prostrate
stage director. Plornish had a broken leg and had to be lifted by both
boys into the Pendleton sleigh. Old Michael could manage the horses
again and turned them about. Laura elected to go back to Centerport with
the injured man and the very-much-disturbed Lily Pendleton.
"Now, just see the sort of a man this fellow is," said Laura, paying no
attention to the groanings of Plornish, "He was intending to get the
money from you at Keyport and then disappear. All he spent was merely
for the bills put up advertising the show--the show which he never
intended would come off, Lil! And you were going down there and leaving
us all in the lurch!"
"Oh, I'm sorry!" groaned Lil.
"I hope so. Sorry enough to go home and rest and prepare to play your
part in 'The Spring Road' to-night," spoke Laura, tartly.
"Oh, dear me! how can I?" cried the girl.
"If you don't," said Laura, frankly, "I won't keep this affair a secret.
You will be the laughing stock of all Central High. I am not going to
allow Jess Morse's play to be spoiled because of _you_. If you were so
jealous and envious that you did not want to see Jess's play succeed,
you could have refused, at least, to be cast for an important part in
it. And now," went on Mother Wit, firmly, "you are going to play that
part."
"Oh, Laura! you are so harsh," sobbed Lily.
"Much that will hurt you!" sniffed Laura. "We'll drive around by the
hospital and leave this Plornish man. If he dares to open his mouth,
we'll have him punished for trying to swindle you," and Laura looked
sternly at the black-eyed, foreign-looking fellow.
"You see, we know all about you, Mr. Plornish, and you will have to
abide by what is done for you. Some of us will help your family while
you are helpless. But you've got to be good, or even Mr. Vandergriff
will forget that you and he used to be boys together. Pah! with your
hair dye, and paint and powder, and all! Why, you are nearly fifty years
old, so Mr. Vandergriff says, and you act and dress like a silly boy."
Lily listened to all this, and stopped sobbing. She began to see that
there was a chance for her to escape being a butt for her
school-fellows' jokes.
"Can--can you keep Jess and the boys from talking?" she whispered to
Laura.
"They'll be like oysters if I tell them to," declared Mother Wit.
"Oh, then, I'll do my best," agreed the foolish girl. Possibly she was
deeply impressed by her escape.
Mother Wit's plans were carried out to the letter. Plornish was
deposited at the hospital, where he would remain for some weeks. The
performance of Jess's play would have to get along without him on this
opening night.
And when the hour for the performance arrived, Lily Pendleton was ready,
her tears wiped away, glorious in one of her costumes, and "preening
like a peacock"--to quote Bobby Hargrew--before one of the long mirrors
in the dressing room.
"My, my!" laughed Bobby. "You look as grand as the Duchess of
Doosenberry, don't you, Lil?"
Lily looked at her rather sharply. "I'd really like to know how much
that child knows?" the older girl murmured.
But it wasn't what the shrewd Bobby _knew;_ it was what she _suspected!_