"STAR OF THE WEST"
All the way home Azalea wondered how she would be received.
Both Patty and Bill were somewhat suspicious of her and would naturally
question her as to where she had been all day. She was tempted to tell
them the whole truth and throw herself on their mercy, and but for one
thing she would have done so. This was the fact that she had previously
taken the baby, Fleurette, over to the studios and had used the child in
the pictures.
This she felt quite sure the Farnsworths would not forgive.
Azalea would not have done it, if it had occurred to her at first how
the parents would resent such use of their child. But Mr. Bixby had
needed a very young baby in a certain picture and Azalea, anxious to
please, had offered to bring Fleurette over. She was herself so devoted
to the little one and so careful of her, she felt no fear of any harm
coming to her. Nor did it, for the infant was good and tractable, and
did all that was required of her without any trouble. However, little
was required except for her to coo and gurgle in one scene, and to lie
quietly asleep in another.
But there was one more short scene where Azalea had to rescue the baby
from a burning house. To be sure the flames were artificial and there
was no danger from the fire, but the baby was thrown from an upper
window, and caught by Azalea, who stood down on the ground.
So accustomed was Fleurette to being tossed about, and so familiar to
her was the frolicking with Azalea that she made no objections and was a
most delightful addition to the picture.
But something happened to the film, and the director was most anxious to
take the scene over again.
Azalea, however, positively refused to take Fleurette again to the
studio. She knew how she would be censured, should it be found out, and
now Nurse Winnie and the two Farnsworths, as well as Elise, were all
watching for anything mysterious that Azalea might do.
She felt almost as if she were living over a slumbering volcano, that
might at any moment blow her up. For Elise, she felt sure, would not
keep the sampler incident to herself, and if Farnsworth heard of it he
would be newly angry at that deception.
So Azalea's delight at her success with the moving-picture company was
very much tempered with dismay at her position in the Farnsworth
household.
She was almost tempted to run away from them altogether and shift for
herself.
Indeed, she practically decided, as she rode in the trolley-car, that if
they were hard on her when she reached home, she _would_ run away. Of a
wayward disposition and without really good early training, Azalea
thought only of herself, and selfishly desired her own advancement
without thought or regard for other people.
But, to her pleased surprise, when she entered the gate she heard gay
voices on the verandah, and knew that guests were there,--and several of
them.
Unwilling to meet them in her street clothes, she slipped around to the
back entrance and went in at the servants' door.
"I don't want to appear until I can dress," she explained to the cook,
and went upstairs by a back way.
Half an hour later, a very different looking Azalea went down the front
staircase and out onto the porch.
She wore a becoming dress of flowered organdie, with knots of bright
velvet, and her pretty hair was carefully arranged.
Smiling and happy-looking, she met the guests and greeted them with a
graceful cordiality.
"Where have you been?" cried Elise, but Azalea ignored the question and
quickly spoke to some one else.
Mona and Roger Farrington were there, and Philip Van Reypen and Chick
Channing. This quartette had motored up from New York to dine, and Patty
had already persuaded them to say they would stay over night.
"I'm crazy for a house party," she said, "haven't had one for 'most a
week! Oh, yes. I've a couple of house guests, but I mean a real party.
Let's make it a week-end, and have lots of fun!"
The visitors were entirely willing, and after telephoning home for
additional apparel, they settled down to enjoy themselves.
As they hadn't much more than accomplished this settling when Azalea
arrived, there was no comment made on her absence all day.
In fact, Patty rather forgot about it, in the multitude of her
conferences with the housekeeper and the maids.
Farnsworth said nothing in the presence of the guests, and Elise, after
her first exclamation, subsided.
In fact, Elise was more interested in the society of Channing and Van
Reypen than in the mystery of Azalea's disappearances.
Betty and Ray Gale had been telephoned for, and they came gladly, so
that at dinner there was quite a big party.
"You certainly are a great little old hostess, Patty!" exclaimed Roger
Farrington, as they seated themselves at table. "I liked you heaps as a
girl, but as mistress of a fine house you are even more charming."
"Thank you, Sir Hubert Stanley!" smiled Patty; "and I'm glad to admit
that I learned a lot about managing a house from your gifted wife. Do
you remember, Mona, how we kept house down at 'Red Chimneys'?"
"Indeed I do!" Mona answered, "what fun we had that summer!"
"I'll subscribe to that!" declared Farnsworth, "for it was then and
there that I met the lady who is now my wife! And,--I kissed her the
moment I saw her!"
"Oh, Cousin William!" cried Azalea, "did you really? What _did_ she
say?"
"Flew at me like a small cyclone of wrath! But as I had mistaken her for
my cousin Mona, she couldn't hold me very guilty."
"Yes! A lot Patty looks like me!" said Mona, who was a dark-haired
beauty.
"But I didn't see her face," pleaded Bill; "I just saw a girl on the
verandah of your house, Mona, and I took it for granted it was you!"
"It's all ancient history," said Patty, laughing. "And, to tell the
truth, I'm glad it happened,--for otherwise, I mightn't have become
interested in--Mona's cousin."
"Then I bless my mistake!" said Farnsworth, so fervently that Patty
shook her head at him.
"Mustn't talk so before folks," she said, reprovingly. "Now, people all,
what shall we do with this lovely evening? It's moonlight, so any who
are romantically inclined can ramble about the place, and flirt in the
arbours,--while those who prefer can play bridge or--the piano. Or
just sit and chat."
"Me for the last!" cried Mona. "I've oceans to talk about with you,
Patty. Can't we play all by ourselves for a little while?"
"Certainly," said Patty, as she rose from the table. "Mona and I are
going to sit on the wistaria porch and gossip for half an hour. After
that, we're all going to dance,--and maybe sing."
"Good enough programme," agreed Van Reypen. "For one half-hour, then,
each may do as he or she wishes!"
"Yes, if you all promise to be back here in half an hour."
"Make it an hour, Patty," laughed Elise, who had her own plans.
"All right," said Patty, carelessly, who cared only that her guests
should enjoy themselves.
"I want to tell you something," Mona said, as she and Patty at last were
alone on the porch. "Who _is_ Azalea?"
"I call that asking, not telling," laughed Patty; "however, I'll reply.
She is Bill's cousin,--not first cousin, but the daughter of his
father's cousin. So you see,--a distant cousin. Why?"
"I'll tell you why. Roger and I go to the 'movies' sometimes,--and in a
picture, the other night, we saw Azalea."
"Saw Azalea! You mean some one who looked like her."
"No; Azalea Thorpe herself! Roger and I both knew her at once. And it
was quite a new picture,--taken recently, I mean. Did you know she did
such things?"
"No, and I can't think she does. It must have been only a remarkable
resemblance, Mona."
"No, Patty. We're positive. And, too, she was doing Wild West
stunts,--riding bareback, shooting, throwing a lariat,--all those
things,--and Azalea can, you know."
"Yes, I know; and there _is_ something queer going on. It may be that
when Azalea goes off for a day or part of a day, that's where she goes.
But I can hardly believe it. And why does she keep it so secret?"
"I suppose she thinks you and Bill wouldn't approve."
"And we certainly would _not_! I don't think it can be possible, Mona.
But don't say anything to anybody,--not even to Little Billee,--until I
can talk to Azalea, myself. I can do lots with her, alone, but not if
anybody else is present."
"Where is she now?"
"Gone for a moonlight stroll with Phil. He's decidedly taken with her."
"Yes, I know it. He said so on the way up here. He thinks she's a fine
girl--and he admires those careless, unconventional ways of hers."
"Well, I don't," Patty sighed. "I like Azalea for lots of things,--she's
good company and kind-hearted,--and she's devoted to Baby,--but I
_can't_ like those free and easy manners! But she's a whole lot better
than when she first came! Then she was _really_ a wild Indian! I've been
able to tone her down a little."
"You've done wonders for her, Patty. She ought to be very grateful."
Patty made a wry face. "No, she isn't grateful. People never are
grateful for that sort of thing. And she doesn't even _know_ she's
different! I've had to train her without her own knowledge! But she's
chameleon-like, in some ways, and she picks up a lot just from being
with mannerly people."
"She does indeed! She's quite correct now,--in her actual doings. It's
only in some burst of enthusiasm that she oversteps the bounds of
propriety. Well, that's all. I thought I'd tell you,--for it isn't right
that you shouldn't know. And there's no mistake. There's only one Azalea
Thorpe."
"Was her name on the programme?"
"No; she didn't have a star part,--not even a named part. She was one of
a crowd,--cowboys, ranch girls, and a general horde of 'woollies.' Don't
accuse her of it, Patty; get around her and see what she says."
"Goodness, Mona, give me credit for a little tact! I'll find out in the
best way. What was the name of the play?"
"'Star of the West.' A splendid thing,--have you seen it?"
"No; we almost never go."
"Oh, we go a lot, we love moving pictures."
"I'd like to see this one,--before I speak to Azalea. Is it on now?"
"Yes, at The Campanile. Let's go down to-morrow,--just you and me. We
can be back in a couple of hours."
"Well, I'll see. Probably I can go."
In the meantime, Azalea and Van Reypen were talking of the same play.
"I saw a picture play last night," Phil was saying, "with a girl in it
that looked exactly like you."
"What was the play?" asked Azalea, interestedly.
"'Star of the West.' It was a good play, but I was most interested in
the girl I speak of. She was really your double,--but she did things
that I don't believe you could compass,--athletic as you are."
"I'd like to see it," said Azalea, thoughtfully.
"Oh, go with me, will you? I'm going to stay up here over the
week-end,--and we could skip down to-morrow afternoon, and be back by
dinner time."
"I'd love to go,--but Patty doesn't greatly approve of the 'movies.'"
"Oh, never mind that. You've a right to go, if you choose. And you
needn't say where we're going, till we get back. Say we're going to take
in a matinée."
"Well, I'll go," Azalea said decidedly, "for I'm crazy to see that play.
What's the girl's name?"
"Dunno. It wasn't on the bill. But, truly, Azalea, you'll be surprised
to see how much like you she is!"
Azalea hesitated. She knew it was taking a great risk to go with Phil,
but she was most anxious to see how she looked on the screen.
This, she knew, was the first picture released in which she had taken a
part. It was only a small part, but she had done well, the manager said,
and that had been the reason for her further advancement.
She had wanted to see it over at the studio, but her visits there had
been so hurried, and she had been so eager to get back, she never dared
take the time to see the pictures exhibited.
The two returned to the house, and Patty greeted them gaily.
"Well, wanderers, you're the last of the company to report! Where have
you been?"
"Surveying your domain, ma'am," Phil replied; "it's most beautiful by
moonlight,--especially when viewed in company with a fair lady."
He bowed gallantly to Azalea, who was looking her best,--a slight blush
of excitement on her cheeks at the compliment.
"It _is_ lovely," she said; "the house, from the west lawn, is a
wonderful picture! Patty, Mr. Van Reypen has asked me to go to New York
with him to-morrow afternoon,--to a matinée. May I?"
"Certainly, my child. And as Mona and I are going down in the early
afternoon, we'll all go together in the big car."
Then all went to the hall for a dance. The large reception hall was
admirably adapted for this purpose, and the strains of a fine phonograph
soon set all feet in motion.
Dancing with Raymond Gale, Azalea pirouetted gaily with some fancy
steps.
"Good!" he cried, falling into the spirit of the thing, and they pranced
about in a mad whirl.
"How Western she is," Elise said to Phil, with whom she was sedately
one-stepping.
"Clever dancer," he returned, briefly, and the subject was not
continued.
"Come for a walk," said Gale to Azalea, as the dance was over.
"No; let's sit on the porch a minute," she preferred.
"Come along to this end, then, for I want to say something particular,"
he urged, and they found a pleasant seat, from which they could see the
moon through the leafy wistaria branches.
"Look here, Azalea," Gale began, "I know what you're up to,--with the
Bixbys."
"What!" Azalea's voice was full of fear.
"Yes, and there's no reason you should be so secretive about it."
"Oh, Raymond,--there _is_ reason! Don't tell on me, will you?"
"Of course not,--if you forbid it. But when Farnsworth asks me, what am
I to say?"
"What does he ask you?"
"Who the Bixbys are. And other awkward questions. You see, I know old
Bixby,--and I knew as soon as I saw him here that day that he had drawn
you into his snares."
"Don't put it that way--I wasn't exactly drawn in."
"Well, you're in, all right. Why, Azalea, I saw you in a picture in New
York, night before last."
"You did?"
"Yes; in 'Star of the West.' Don't try to fib out of it--"
"What!"
"Now you needn't get mad! I know you're not entirely above a little
fibbing, now and then!"
"I think I'll go in the house,--I don't like you."
"Oh, Zaly, behave yourself. Be a sensible girl, and face the music! Why
don't you own it all up, and tell Farnsworth the whole story? It isn't a
criminal thing to act in the 'movies.'"
"They think it is,--Bill and Patty. They'd never forgive me!"
"Oh, pshaw, they would, too! Anyway, I want you to do it,--tell 'em, I
mean. Won't you, Zaly,--won't you,--for my sake?"
Gale was sincere and earnest, and Azalea thrilled to the strong
tenderness in his voice as he urged her.
But she hesitated to consent.
"I can't, Ray," she said, at last. "Truly, I can't. They'd--they'd turn
me off--"
"Oh, Azalea, what nonsense! They'd do no such thing!"
"Yes, they would. You don't know Bill. He's good and generous and
kind,--but he hates anything like deceit,--and almost worse, he hates
the whole moving-picture racket. I don't mean the pictures themselves,
exactly,--but the idea of anybody of his being in them. And, oh,
Ray,--it isn't only myself,--but I took--I took--"
"I know,--you took the kiddy."
"Yes, I did. It didn't seem any harm, at first, and then, one day when I
brought her home,--she was sleepy,--unusually so, I mean, and Nurse
said she had been given soothing sirup,--and--I found out afterward she
had! Mrs. Bixby had given her some, to keep her quiet in the picture,
you know. Of course, I never dreamed of such a thing,--why, Ray, that
little girl is as dear to me,--almost,--as she is to Patty! I wouldn't
harm a hair of her blessed little curly head! And I'd never have allowed
a drop of that sirup, if I'd known it! But I just gave her to Mrs. Bixby
to hold, while I changed my costume,--Mrs. Bixby seems a good woman--"
"Oh, come now, I don't believe it hurt the child."
"You don't know anything about such things. I don't know much, but I
know they must never have a bit of that stuff! Anyway, Ray?--we must go
in now,--don't give my secret away until I give you permission, will
you?"
"No; if you'll promise to think it over and try to believe what I've
told you,--that it's best to tell all."
"All right, I'll promise that, and I may decide to tell. But I want to
wait until after to-morrow, anyway."