A Star for a Night Part 4

"He generally is with some kind of an actress," admitted Clayton.

"Mrs. Dainton, I mean. Is she such a great actress?"

"Well," sparred Clayton, carefully examining another scarab, "opinions differ as to her greatness."

"But she must make an awful lot of money," insisted Martha.

"She _spends_ an awful lot."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not always. You have to get the money before you can spend it."

"Then she has another income, like Mrs. Kilpatrick, I suppose?"

"She probably has another income, only it's not quite the same. In fact--But I don't think we had better worry about her, Miss Farnum."

"But I'm interested. Perhaps--why, perhaps I might go on the stage myself, some day," added Martha, suddenly, as an afterthought.

"You go on the stage?" laughed Clayton. "Nonsense!"

"I don't see why it is nonsense," cried Martha, rising to her feet so suddenly that Clayton had only time to grasp the case of precious scarabs in time to save them from a fall. "I must do something, and from what I have seen of theatrical people here at this hotel, they all have plenty of money. Even that Miss Forsythe, who dresses so loudly, earns a lot."

Clayton leaned back in his chair and laughed.

"My dear child," he tried to explain, "I know the girl you mean. She's a show-girl in New York. I saw her at the station just now when my train arrived. To see her in that elaborate costume, you wouldn't believe that her salary is just twenty dollars a week, would you?"

"Twenty dollars a week?"

"Yes. She's in the chorus."

"But how can she afford to stay at this hotel on such a salary?"

At that Clayton coughed and began to sort out the scarabs.

"She probably also has an--er--independent source of income," he stammered.

"Could I get twenty dollars a week on the stage?" inquired Martha, thoughtfully, not noticing his confusion.

"Very likely, if you are willing to start in the chorus," replied Clayton.

Martha clenched her fists with determination.

"Why, I'd start at the very bottom; I'd work like anything, to succeed,"

she said tensely.

Clayton closed the case and rose to his feet.

"Really, Miss Farnum, I didn't know you were so much in earnest about it," he explained.

"You see, my service with Mrs. Kilpatrick ends in a few days," said Martha, simply. "She is going to Italy, and there is nothing left for me to do but return home, and our people are too poor and I must earn a living to help them."

"So you really want to go on the stage?" said Clayton, thoughtfully. "I wouldn't advise it. There are too many dangers, too many temptations."

"Do you think I care for the dangers?" cried Martha, almost contemptuously. "All of the temptations are not on the stage. The department stores, the shops, the offices--why not think of them? Girls work there, hundreds and thousands of them. But the moment a girl mentions the stage, some one cries out about the temptations. It's absurd."

The fiery outburst of the young girl startled Clayton, who realized that in an argument on this theme he was likely to be worsted. Moreover, he was placed in the unenviable position of being obliged to argue against a course which he felt sure would be disastrous, or at least difficult, while during their short talk he had grown to be genuinely interested in Martha. Like a prudent general, he sought safety in retreat.

"About these scarabs," he began, "I should like to speak to Mrs.

Kilpatrick."

Martha's thoughts, however, so suddenly directed to a new channel, were difficult to concentrate on anything so mundane as scarabs. It was several seconds before she recollected herself and answered his question:

"Oh, yes," she repeated. "Mrs. Kilpatrick is in parlor A. She said she would be glad to see you a little later."

Clayton bowed. "And I won't say farewell," he said, "as I'll surely see you at dinner."

"The stage," repeated Martha, dreamily, after he had gone, sinking into one of the large chairs and placing both hands to her throbbing temples.

"The stage. Why not? Why not?"

CHAPTER IV

A GLIMPSE INTO THE PAST

"This is the sun parlor, Pinkie," cried Flossie, ushering in the girl who had just found a haven of refuge and a sanctuary for the penniless at the Springs. "My word, but we do put on style at this rest-cure. I'm having the time of my young life."

Pinkie Lexington gazed around her, and sighed with relief. The well-dressed women in the distance made her instinctively think of her own somewhat bedraggled tailor-made suit, badly wrinkled from the train journey. Even at its best, it suggested the "Take me home for $12.99"

signs of the bargain counters. Furthermore, Pinkie's hat was of the early spring vintage, and the ribbon was faded. Her pride and her glory had always been her hair, large blond ma.s.ses of which protruded from beneath the rim of her straw hat, but a visit to a hair-dresser was a luxury Pinkie had not known in months. Added to this, Pinkie had become unusually heavy--and therefore always in need of the most perfect grooming in order to keep up appearances--and it may be easily understood that she was not appearing to the best advantage. This fact Flossie had noticed with keen inward delight, for her own smartness and prettiness naturally took on added l.u.s.ter when placed in contrast with poor Pinkie's poverty.

But Pinkie sighed with contentment. Notwithstanding a few personal deficiencies of dress and adornment, it was a relief to be in a hotel where one could be a.s.sured of three excellent meals a day.

"It's grand to be in a real place after those awful one-night stands,"

sighed Pinkie. "But I'm afraid I won't really enjoy it--I'm on a diet."

"What?" inquired Flossie.

"I'm reducing," insisted Pinkie, sadly.

"Why didn't you go on a diet last week when you were broke?" demanded Flossie. "Now, you are here as my guest, and if you don't eat I'll be insulted. Just wait until I introduce you to Mr. Zinsheimer."

"I'm just dying to meet him," said Pinkie, demurely. "_Feathers_, isn't it?"

"One of the biggest importers in New York," said Flossie, proudly. "He's a real gentleman. Nothing but wine."

"I know I shall like him," repeated Pinkie.