Bambi
not endure it. He would sweep her out of his life, and be about
his work.
He was disappointed to find her out when he returned to the club. He had
his opening speech all ready and it was annoying to have his scene
delayed. He raged about, to keep his wrath hot, until she came.
"Greeting," she began; then saw his face, and added, "Jungle beast!"
"I'll not stay here another day!" he cried.
"You saw the manager?"
"He asked me if the stuff was funny! He invited me to write a Jew play,
and make a pot of money! He said 'Nix on the high-brow stuff,' and never
heard of the feminist movement," he blurted out in one breath.
She sat down under the onslaught, trying to arrange her rebellious
features.
"'Nix on the high-brow stuff.' To me!" he repeated.
Bambi gave up. She rolled on the bed, and laughed.
Jarvis raged the room up and down. There was no gleam of humour in it
for him. When her paroxysm had passed, she sat up and looked at him.
"Poor old Knight with the Broken Lance," she said. "It's tough, but it
had to be done."
"What had to be done?"
"This morning's work. It was part of your training. You must know just
what the situation is here, in the market-place."
"But there is no place for me here."
"After two days' failure, you give up?"
"I told you I couldn't sell my things. They are too good."
"That's rubbish. Nothing you, nor I, nor any other human can think, is
too good. If we have big thoughts, and want to tell them to our brothers
who speak another tongue, if we have the brains, we must learn their
tongue, not hope for them to acquire ours. That is what I hoped you
would see."
"You think I've got to learn the Broadway lingo?"
"I do. If you have anything to say, Broadway needs it."
"I can't translate what I want to say into that speech."
"But you can. It will mean hard work, hard work and heartache, and
disappointment, but you can do it, because you have the soul stuff of a
great man."
Her eyes shone now, misted with feeling. He saw again his multitudes
flocking to him in the wilderness. He saw them aroused, revived,
triumphant over life through him.
"Will you help me?" he cried to her. It was his first uttered need of
her, and her heart beat high in response.
"I will, if you will let me, Jack o' Dreams."
"Don't let me give up! Don't let me lose heart!"
"No, I won't. I'll push, or haul you, to the top!"
"I came to scoff, and I stay to pray," said Jarvis, cryptically. "God
bless you, Bambi!" he added, as he left her.
X
No letter from Mr. Strong arrived in the morning's mail, so Bambi
induced Jarvis to go over to the Cubist show, by himself, on the plea
that she had a headache. He went, most willingly, anywhere,
except Broadway.
The minute he was out of the way her languid, headachey manner changed
to one of brisk energy. She donned her smartest frock and hat. She was
more earnest in her effort to allure the eye than she was on the day of
her own conquest. "You must look your best, you little old Bambi, you,
and see what you can do for big Jarvis!"
After the last nod of approval at her reflected self, she tucked
Jarvis's manuscript under her arm, and started forth. She had made a
close study of all the theatrical columns of the papers and magazines
since their arrival in New York, so she was beginning to have a formal
bowing acquaintance with the names of the leading managers.
In spite of her cheerful acceptance of Jarvis's mood of despair, the day
before, she was really deeply touched by it, and appealed to by his
helplessness to cope with the situation. She remembered her words to her
father, "He cannot accommodate himself to the commercial standards of
the times." It was so true. And was she right in submitting him to them
so ruthlessly? Was she blunting something fine in him by this ugly
picture she was holding up for him to see, of a thoroughly
commercialized drama, the laws and restrictions of which he must know
and conquer, or be silenced? All the mother in her hated to have him
hurt, but the sensible helpmeet part of her knew that it must be done.
Of course he could not be expected to know how to approach managers, all
at once. He was probably very tactless. He admitted that he had called
the enemy of yesterday a "pig." Naturally that was no way to help his
cause. Perhaps, after this experience, and his new cognizance of
conditions, it would be better for him to write in quiet and solitude,
while she acted as salesman.
"I'm just plain adventuress enough to love the fight of it," she
admitted to herself as she approached the office she had selected for
her first try. She tripped in, confidently, and addressed the
office boy.
"Mr. Claghorn in?" she asked.
"Nope."
"When do you expect him?"
"Oh, any time. He's in and out."
"I'll wait."
"Probably won't be back until after lunch."
A railing shut off the hall where she stood from the office proper,
where the boy was on guard. Doors opened off this central room into the
private offices. There were no chairs in this hall, and the boy made no
move to open the railing.
"Is that large armchair in there rented for the day?" Bambi inquired.
"Not so far as I know," he grinned.
"Does this thing open, or do I have to jump it?" she smiled.
"Where are you goin'?"
"To the large armchair."
"Welcome to our city," said he, as he lifted the rail. "Nobody allowed
in here except by appointment."
"That's all right. I understand that," she said nonchalantly, and sank
into the haven of the chair.
All the details of the office, which bored Jarvis, or which he entirely
failed to see, fascinated Bambi. She set herself to the subjection of
the office boy, by a request for the baseball score.
"Say, are you a fan?" he asked.
"Can't you see it in my eye?"
He was launched. He gave her a minute biographical sketch of every
player on the team, his past and future possibilities. He went over all
the games of the past season, while Bambi turned an enraptured face
upon him.
He was frequently interrupted by actors and actresses who came by
appointment, or otherwise, and he gave her all the racy details
concerning them at his disposal. By indirection she obtained a
description of Claghorn, so that he might not escape her if he came in.
All the actors looked at her with interest, the actresses with disdain.
One whispered to the boy, who shook his head.
"Say, what you wid?" he asked her later.
"I don't understand you."
His look became suspicious. "What show you with?"
"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?"
"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?"