"With 'Success,'" she answered hastily, patting the manuscript.
"Roadshow?"
"No."
"Playing New York?"
"Not yet."
"Gimme two pasteboards when you come to town. I'd like to see you."
"All right. What's your name?"
"Robert Mantell Moses. I'm going on, in comic opera, some day."
"So?" said Bambi.
"Song and dance. Are you a dancer?"
"I am."
"Toe or Tango?"
"I beg pardon."
"Toe dancer, or Tango artist?"
"Oh, I do them both."
"Do you do the Kitchen Sink? And the Wash Tub?"
Bambi thought fast. "Yes. And the One-legged Smelt. Also the Jabberwock
Jig."
He inspected her suspiciously.
"Say, those are new ones on me." "Really?"
She was thoroughly enjoying herself when the brazen-mouthed clock
twanged twelve.
"Goodness! Is it as late as that? Claghorn's ins are mostly outs."
"Give me that again."
"You said he was in and out."
"Nix on the rough stuff."
"What a lovely phrase! I must tell that to Jarvis."
"Who's Jarvis? Your steady?"
"No. He's a--relative by marriage."
"Nix on the 'in-laws' for me."
He suddenly straightened up to attention as a big, fierce-looking man
plunged in, nearly demolished the railing in passage, and made for a
door marked "Private."
"Any mail?" he shouted.
"No. Lady to see you, sir," the boy replied.
Bambi rose to meet the foe, who never glanced at her. He jerked open the
door, but he was not quick enough for the originator of the Jabberwock
Jig. Her small foot was slid into the space between the door and the
threshold. It was at the risk of losing a valuable member, but she was
so angry at being ignored that she never thought of it. When the
gentleman found that the door would not close, he stuck his head out,
and nearly kissed Bambi, whose smiling countenance happened to be in
the way.
"Well?" he ejaculated.
"Quite well, thank you," she replied as she slid in the crack. He looked
her over.
"Where did you come from?" he demanded.
"I was out there when you swept the horizon with your eye, but you must
have missed me. I didn't run up a flag."
She was so little and so saucy that he had to smile.
"What do you want?" he asked directly.
"I want to talk with you, for about three minutes."
"I don't engage people for the shows."
"I don't want a job."
"Well, what do you want? Talk fast. My time is precious."
"I have here a very fine play, called 'Success,' which would be a good
investment for you."
"Who wrote it?"
"My husband."
He glanced at her.
"I thought child marriage was prohibited in this state."
She dimpled back at him, deliciously.
"It is modern, dramatic."
"Comedy?"
"No."
"Nothing else has much chance. Leave it, and I will read it."
"When?"
[Illustration: "TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO PUT YOU IN A PLAY, AND I'LL PUT IT
ON." "MUCH OBLIGED, I'LL TELL HIM. GOOD MORNING."]
"As soon as I can."
"But we have to go home next Thursday."
"You don't expect me to read it before then?"
"Couldn't you?"
"I wouldn't read Pinero's latest before then."
"How soon would you read it?"
"I've got nine productions to look after. I only read on trains. I'm
going to Buffalo to-night."
"Then you could take it along to-night?" she cried happily.
"Say, who let you in here, anyhow?"
"You did."
"I've got no time to talk to anybody."
"I'm not anybody. I'm I. Just promise me you'll read it to-night and
I'll go."
"Is this it? Name and address on it?"
She nodded.
"All right. To-night. Now get out!"
"Thanks. I've had such a nice call." As she reached the door he spoke.
"Tell your husband to put you in a play and I'll put it on."
"Much obliged. I'll tell him. Good morning."
She made her farewells to Robert Mantell Moses, went out and down the
street. It was definitely settled in her mind that she was to market
Jarvis's wares. She had a gift for it, a desperate courage in a crisis,
that made her do anything to win her point and get what she came for.
Jarvis would, no doubt, be sitting, still. He was waiting for her at
the club.
"I was getting anxious about you. Did you go to a doctor?"
"Doctor?"
"For your head?"
"Oh, my head. I'd forgotten all about it. After you left, I felt so much
better that I decided to go out."
"Looking for more adventures?"
"I never look for them. They--flock to my standard. No, I took the play
and stormed a manager's office. I saw him, in spite of himself, and got
him to promise to read the play to-night on the way to Buffalo."
"Who was he?"
"Claghorn."
"How did you get to him?"
"He ran through the big office into his private one, and was just about
to pull up the drawbridge, when I sprang in after him."
"Just tell it to me in plain English, Bambi."
She described her entrance, with the subjection of the office boy, the
ruse by which she got into the inner office, her interview with
Claghorn, and his subsequent promise.
"You are a wonder!" he exclaimed. "I never could have thought of it."
"I should say you wouldn't. You'd have been sitting there yet."
"Did you tell him about the play?"
"In three minutes? I should say not! I had to cram my words in, like
loading a rapid-fire gun. Pouf! Pouf! And out!"
"Did he seem intelligent?"
"Yes, rather. I have decided to see managers after this, Jarvis. It will
be Jocelyn & Co. You do the work and I'll sell it. It's fun."
"It's wonderful how the gods look after me," he said.
"Gods nothing! It's wonderful how I look after you. You can burn incense
to me."
"I do."
The play came back shortly, with a brief note from Claghorn. It had some
good points, but it was too serious. Not dramatic enough. The third
act was weak.
"All the silly asses want me to make them laugh," raged Jarvis.
"I am disappointed in my new friend, but the letter to Belasco is here
now, so we'll have a talk with him. Will you go, or shall I?"
"I think I'd like to talk with him, and tell him my views," Jarvis said.
They sent in the letter, with a request for an interview. In the course
of a few days a reply came saying that Mr. Belasco had gone West to see
a new production, but if Mr. Jocelyn would send his play to the office
it would receive the earliest possible attention. It was a blow to their
hopes, but there was nothing else to do, so they dispatched it by
messenger.
"I think, maybe, we had better plan to go back home to-morrow, and wait
the decision there. The money is vanishing, and I am getting anxious
about the Professor. He forgets to write anything of importance."
"All right. I'll be glad to go back."
"Let's go shop this afternoon, and take the morning train to-morrow."
"Good. Suits me."
"What shall I take the Professor? I've thought and thought. He's so hard
to shop for."
"Get him an adding machine!"
Bambi withered him.
"He would disinherit me on the spot. That's like sending Paderewski a
pianola."
"We must get something for Ardelia, too."
"I got her a red dress, a red hat, a salmon-pink waist, and
handkerchiefs with a coloured border."
Once their thoughts turned toward the little house, and the arithmetical
garden, they were anxious to get back. Their shopping tour was a gay
affair, because it was their last outing.
"Don't you feel differently about New York?" she asked him as they
walked back. "It seems to me like a fascinating new friend I have made.
I am sorry to leave it."
"I'm not. I'm not made for cities. People interest me for a while, then
I forget them, and they are always under foot, in places like this. I
trip over them, and they interrupt my thoughts."
"I'm so glad you are true to type," she smiled up at him.
"I'm deeply grateful and appreciative of your bringing me here," he
added awkwardly.
"That was out of character, Jarvis. A month ago you would have taken it
as your right."
"I'm beginning to realize that others may have rights, that even you may
have some, Miss Mite."
"Never fear. I'll protect mine," she boasted.
On the morrow they turned their faces toward home and the Professor.