TEMPTATION
"You are perfectly absurd and I haven't the faintest intention of
confiding in any one of you." And Polly O'Neill, with her cheeks
flaming, rushed away from a group of girls and into her own bedroom,
closing the door and locking it behind her.
This winter at boarding school in New York City had not been in the
least what she had anticipated. Perhaps the character of the school
she and her mother had chosen had been unfortunate. Yet they had
selected it with the greatest care and it was expensive beyond Polly's
wildest dreams. For, apart from her own small inheritance, her
stepfather, Mr. Wharton, had insisted on being allowed to contribute to
her support, and not to appear too ungracious both to her mother and to
him, his offer had been accepted. Yet Polly did not consider herself
any greater success in thus masquerading as a rich girl than she had
been as a poor one. Was she never to be satisfied? Her school
companions were all wealthy and few of them had any ideas beyond
clothes and society. To them Polly had seemed a kind of curiosity.
She was so impetuous, so brilliant, so full of a thousand moods. Betty
Ashton had once said that to know Polly O'Neill was a liberal
education, and yet in order to know her one ought to have had a liberal
education beforehand.
Today during the recreation hour at "Miss Elkins' Finishing School,"
which was Polly's present abode, there had been a sudden discussion of
plans for the future. And Polly, partly because she was in a
contradictory mood and partly because she really wished it to be known,
had boldly announced herself as poor as a church mouse with no chance
of not starving to death in the future unless she could learn to make
her own living.
And this had started the onslaught of questions from which she had just
torn herself away.
For Polly had absolutely determined not to confide in any one of her
new companions her ambition to go upon the stage. They would not
understand and would only be stupid and inquisitive. Why, had they not
worried her nearly to death simply because of her acquaintance with
Miss Margaret Adams? For one day the great actress had driven up to
the school and taken Polly for a drive. And ever afterwards the other
girls were determined to find out how and when she had met her and what
she was like in every smallest particular, until Polly was nearly
frantic.
Now in her own room, which was a small one, but belonged to her alone,
the girl dashed cold water on her face until she began to feel her
temper cooling down. Then with a book in her lap she planted herself
in a low chair. The book was a collection of Camp Fire songs which
Sylvia Wharton had given her. And although Polly could not sing, the
poetry and inspiration of them was so lovely that she felt they might
be a consoling influence.
Nevertheless Polly did not commence reading at once. Instead, her thin
shoulders drooped forward pathetically, and putting one elbow on her
knee she rested her pointed chin in her hand.
For she was unhappy without any real reason in the world. Polly
O'Neill was one of the sensitive and emotional persons who must always
be more or less miserable in the wrong environment. She did not like
being at boarding school and yet she did not wish to return to Woodford
to live in her stepfather's house in circumstances so different from
those of her old life. Besides, had not Miss Adams advised that she
spend several years away from Woodford in order to see more of the
outside world and its myriad types of men and women? She could not ask
to be allowed to come back home now, after the fight she had made to
leave. Moreover, she was learning many things that might be useful to
her as an actress. Miss Adams herself had said so. There was no fault
with the opportunities for study at Miss Elkins', only with the
interest of the girls. She herself was working hard at French and
German and physical culture and was having some special private
teaching in elocution by a master recommended by Miss Adams.
No, Polly did not intend to give up. Only she was trying to decide
whether or not to return to Woodford for the Christmas holidays. She
was longing to see her mother and Mollie and Betty Ashton. Yet Frank
Wharton would be at home and she and Frank had quarreled all the time
that they had been in the house together during the past summer. And
her mother and Mollie were so wrapped up in one another and in the
splendid new home and in Mr. Wharton! Polly felt herself almost an
outsider when she thought of the days when they had lived in their own
little cottage just opposite the Princess.
Then, at the thought of Betty Ashton, the slightly hard look in Polly's
Irish blue eyes faded. Of the Princess' understanding and affection
she could always feel sure. And what a brave fight she was making!
Every letter from her mother or Mollie or from any one of their old
Camp Fire circle had something admiring to say of her. And yet she and
Mollie had always thought of their Princess as only a spoiled darling,
beautiful and meant only for cherishing. Ah well, the Princess was
really an aristocrat in the old meaning of the word. She had never
been in the least like these New York girls, caring for money for its
own sake and feeling superior to other people just because of her
money. Betty had birth and beauty and brains.
Suddenly Polly dashed the tears from her eyes and with a smile jumped
to her feet, dropping her Camp Fire book. There was no use sitting
there and thinking of all the virtues that her Princess possessed that
began with "b." This was Friday afternoon and she was free to do what
she liked. Esther was living in a boarding house not far away, and she
had not seen her in two weeks. And in all the world there was nothing
Esther liked to talk about so much as Betty. Besides, if Esther were
going home for the holidays, why, Polly felt that she would rather like
to have some one persuade her into making her own decision.
Is it good or evil fortune that makes one so readily influenced by
outside conditions? The December afternoon was cold and brilliant; and
in few places is the climate of early winter so stimulating as in New
York City. Esther was not at home, and for a few minutes her visitor
felt disappointed. But the streets were so beautiful and alluring and
there were so many people out! It was true that Polly had received
permission only to call upon her friend, but what wrong could there be
in her taking a walk? She had only to keep straight along Broadway and
there could be no possible chance of getting lost. Polly was not in
the least timid or unable to take care of herself. She was a girl from
a small town, and yet no one could have imagined that she had not been
a New Yorker all her life, except for her quick and eager interest in
the sights about her.
No one noticed or molested Polly in the least. It was only that in her
usual unthinking fashion she flung herself into the way of temptation.
Farther down Broadway than she had ever been before, Polly stopped for
a moment to look more closely at a group of girls. Most of them were
several years older than herself. They were standing close together
near a closed door, and yet only occasionally did one of them make a
remark to the other; for apparently they were strangers to one another.
At first the girls themselves attracted Polly's attention because the
larger number appeared so nervous and anxious. More than half of them
had their faces rouged and powdered and were fashionably dressed, yet
even when they smiled their expressions were uneasy.
They interested the country girl immensely. In order not to seem rude
or inquisitive she pretended to wish to gaze into a shop window near
them. Then, as they continued waiting and showed no sign of what they
were waiting for, Polly O'Neill's curiosity overcame her good manners.
Another girl had separated herself from the group and was standing
within two feet of Polly, also pretending to stare into the same window.
Polly edged closer to her. The young woman must have been nearly
twenty-five. She had been pretty once, yet already her face was
haggard and she had circles under her big brown eyes. Unexpectedly
Polly smiled at her, and there was always something almost irresistible
in Polly's smile.
"Could you, would you mind telling me why so many girls are standing
here in this one particular spot?" she inquired. "It is a cold day
when one is still. And yet I have been here almost ten minutes and no
one has even started to move away."
"We are waiting to try to get jobs," the older girl answered
listlessly. "And we have come sooner than we were told because each
one of us hoped to get ahead of the other."
"Jobs?" Polly repeated stupidly. "What kind of work is it that you are
looking for?"
"Oh, theatrical jobs," the young woman explained. "It's coming on to
be Christmas time and the managers are putting on extras for the
holidays."
She turned away from her questioner, believing that she had heard a
faint noise at the door near which they were lingering. A quick tug at
her coat attracted her attention again.
"Can any one apply for a position who wants it?" Polly queried. Her
eyes were shining, her cheeks were crimson and her breath coming in
kind of broken gasps as though she were frightened.
But the magic door had opened at last and the older woman had no time
to waste. "Oh, yes, any one can apply," she returned with a kind of
hardness. And then she failed to observe that the girl she had been
talking with was following close behind her.
Polly herself hardly realized what she was doing. Once more she had
yielded to that old wretched habit of hers, of acting first and then
thinking afterwards. Like a flash of lightning it had but this instant
occurred to her that more than anything she would like to see inside a
theatrical manager's office. It would be like placing the tips of
one's toes on the promised land. Of course, Polly knew perfectly well
that she was being reckless, only she would not allow herself time to
consider this point of view. She would simply slip in with these other
girls and pretend that she would like a position should she be forced
into it. As she had had no experience, there could be no possibility
of her getting an engagement. Ten minutes afterwards she would slip
out again and return to school.
With a dozen or more other girls, Polly was the next moment ushered
into a room that was quite dark and had only a few chairs in it. There
they were told to wait until the manager could be free to speak to
them. So Polly crowded herself into the farthest, darkest corner and
immediately her heart began to thump and her knees to shake, while she
wished herself a thousand miles away.
What would her mother say to this latest of her escapades; and Mollie
and Betty? What would Miss Adams, for that matter, think of her? She
was an actress herself; but of course Polly never imagined that she had
started her career in any such humble fashion.
Coming partially to her senses, Polly started hurriedly toward the
closed door. There was no reason in the world for her remaining in
this room unless she wished it. But just as she turned the knob the
manager entered from the hall. And Polly's curiosity got the better of
her again. She would stay just half a minute longer and see what
happened.