Bambi
single and collective failure. Mr. Frohman added a few words, and
ordered them all to dismiss the play from their minds until the morrow
night. Bambi tried to say a word of encouragement and thanks to them,
but in the midst of it she broke down and wept.
"Take her home and keep her in bed to-morrow, Jocelyn," Mr. Frohman
said.
Jarvis hurried her into a cab, and she sobbed softly all the way home.
He made no effort to touch her or comfort her; he was in torment
himself. At the club he ordered eggnog and sandwiches sent to her room,
whither he followed her, helpless to cope with her tears.
She threw her things off and bathed her eyes, while he set out the table
for the food. When the boy appeared with it, Jarvis led her to her chair
and served her. She smiled mistily at him.
"It's nerves and excitement and overwork," she explained. He nodded.
"If it failed now, it would be too awful," he said.
"Don't say that word; don't even think it!" she cried.
"You mustn't care so much," he begged her.
"Don't you care?"
"Of course, more than you know. But I am prepared for failure, if it
comes."
"I can't be prepared for it. It cannot happen!" she sobbed.
He stood looking down at her helplessly.
"What can I do for you? What is it you want?" he demanded gently.
"I want to be rocked," she sobbed.
"To be----"
She pushed him into a big chair, and climbed into his arms.
"Rocked," she finished.
He held her a minute closely, then he rose and set her down.
"I can't do it," he began. "I have something to tell you that must be
said----"
"Not to-night, Jarvis, I'm too tired."
"Yes, to-night, before another hour passes. Sit down there, please."
She obeyed, curiously.
"Do you remember Christmas Eve, when I came home?"
"Yes."
"Did you notice anything different about me?"
"How, different?"
"Did it occur to you that I cared about you, for the first time?"
"I--I--suspicioned it a little."
"Then you deliberately ignored it because you did not want my love?"
"I--I--didn't mean to ignore it."
"But you did."
"I wasn't sure; you never spoke of it, never said you cared. After that
first night I thought I must have been mistaken."
"But you were glad to be mistaken?"
"No. I was sorry," she said, softly.
"What?" sharply.
"I wanted your love, Jarvis."
"You can't mean that."
"But I do!"
"But, Strong--you love Strong----"
She rose quickly, her face flushed.
"I love Richard Strong as my friend, and in no other way."
"Certainly he loves you."
"He has never told me so."
"You let me believe you cared for him; you tortured me with your show of
preference for him."
"You imagined that, Jarvis. It is not true!"
"It is true!" he cried, passionately. "I came to you, eager for your
love, wanting you as I had never wanted anything. You flaunted this man
in my face, you shut me out, you drove me back on myself----"
"Well?"
"What did you expect me to do? Endure forever in silence?"
"What did you do? Or what do you mean to do?"
"I have come to care for a woman who understands me----"
"A woman, Jarvis?"
"The woman who wrote 'Francesca.' I cared first because she had put into
her heroine so many things that were like you."
"Well?" she said again.
"She has come to care for me. I wanted to tell you so long ago, when we
first knew, but she begged me not to until after the play was tried out.
But I can't stand it another minute. There must be truth between us,
Bambi. I want you to read her letters. I want you to try to understand
how this has crept into my heart."
"You wish to be free--to go to her?"
"There is no happiness for us, is there?"
"I'm too tired to think it out now, Jarvis. You must go away and let me
get myself together."
She looked like a pitiful little wraith, and his heart ached for her.
"I'm sorry I had to add to your hard day, but I had to say this
to-night."
"It's all right. I must ask you not to speak to me of it again until
after to-morrow night. I need all my strength for that ordeal. After
that, we must turn our attention to this new problem, and work it out
together, somehow."
"Thank you. I'm sorry I've been such a disappointment to you, my dear,"
he added.
"Good-night. Take the letters--I could not bear to read them."
With an agonized look he took them and left her.
"Dear lord, I'm through with plots! I'm sick unto death of the secret,"
she sighed, as she climbed into bed.
XXVIII
Bambi kept to her room next day until it was time to meet the train on
which Ardelia and the Professor were to arrive. It was due at four
o'clock. She went to Jarvis's door, but he was not in his room. She had
heard nothing of him since his confession of the night before.
Her telephone bell startled her, and she took up the receiver to hear
Jarvis's voice.
"Bambi?"
"Yes."
"How are you?"
"All right."
"Don't you want me to meet the Professor and Ardelia? There's no need of
your going up to Grand Central."
"I'd rather go thank you, Jarvis. Where are you?"
"At the theatre."
"Anything the matter?"
"Oh, no. I came to talk to the stage manager. He says everything will be
all right to-night. Are you resting?"
"Yes. I've had a quiet day, sitting on my nervous system. Where have you
been?"
"Walking the streets."
"Come home and take some rest. I'll meet the train. Thank you just as
much for thinking of it."
"I'll be at the information booth at five minutes to four."
"All right."
She hung up the phone with a dazed face. The idea of Jarvis taking care
of her, inquiring after her health, and trying to spare her!
"Every blessed thing is topsy-turvy," she exclaimed aloud.
At four o'clock she walked up to the booth, and there he stood,
anxiously scanning the faces that passed.
"Hello!" she said cheerfully.
He looked grateful and smiled.
"You look as if you had had a spell of sickness, you're so white," he
said.
"I'm all right, but you look like a nervous pros. case. Aren't we
pitiful objects for eminently successful playwrights?"
"I suppose one gets used to this strain in time," he said, taking her
arm to help her through the crowd.
No sooner had the train come to a stop than they saw Ardelia's huge
frame descend from the car, holding a dress suitcase in each hand. After
her came the Professor, looking very small and shrunken. Ardelia saw
them afar, and waved the heavy suitcase in the air like a banner as she
hurried toward them.
"Howdy, Miss Bambi? Howdy, Mistah Jarvis? Heah we is."
"Bless your old hearts!" said Bambi, hugging them both.
"How are you, children?" the Professor inquired.
"We're fine! Did you have a comfortable time on the trip? Why did you
sit in the day coach, father?"
"De Perfessor, he won't set in de' chaih cah, cause'n dey won't let me
in dere, an' he's 'fraid he fergit to git off less'n he was 'longside
ob me."
"But the train stops here--it doesn't go any farther. My! Ardelia, you
do look stylish!"
"Yas'm. Wait until yo' see my noo black silk. I'se got me a tight skirt,
an' a Dutch neck--Lawzee, honey, but dis ole niggah's gittin'
mighty frisky."
She and Jarvis had an argument about the bags. She insisted upon
carrying them herself, and indignantly refused the help of the
coloured porter.
"Go way f'um heah, boy. Yo' reckon I gwine trust yo' all wid ma' noo
silk dress an de Perfessor's dress suit? No, sah!"
She kept them laughing all the way to the club with her tales of their
difficulties and excitements in getting off. Her exclamations on
everything she saw were convulsing. When they arrived at the club, and
she discovered that she was to have the little room next to Bambi's, her
satisfaction was complete.
Bambi ordered the entire family to repose on its respective backs for an
hour before they dressed for dinner. So they parted to obey orders. For
that hour Bambi held herself firmly upon her bed, completing her plans.
They had agreed, she and Jarvis, that if there should be a call for the
author, they would take it together, and Jarvis would speak. She was not
sure just how she was to make the revelation to him of her dual
personality. She decided to leave it to chance.
Never in her life had she been so excited. The double responsibility as
author and playwright shrank to second place in comparison with the fact
that this night she was to tell Jarvis of her love for him--hear him
speak his love for her.
Before the hour of enforced quiet was over she could hear Ardelia
tiptoeing about her room. Presently her head was cautiously inserted
through the door. When she saw a hand waved at her, she bounced in.
"Laws, honey, I'se so excited, I cain't hol' my eyes shet. I got de
Perfessor's dress suit cloes all laid out smooth, wif de buttons in de
shirt, an' de white tie ready. Now, yo' let me help yo' all git dressed
befo' I begin to wrassle wid dat tight skirt ob mine."
"All right, sit down and hold your hands till I jump into my bath."
While Bambi bathed, Ardelia shouted all the gossip of home through the
bathroom door. Upon Bambi's reappearance, she insisted upon dressing her
like a child. She put on her silk stockings and slippers, getting
herself down and up with many a grunt. She constituted herself a
critical judge in the hairdressing process, and fussed about every pin.
"Why ain't yo' all had one ob dese heah hair-fixers do yo' haid?"
"And make me look like a hair-shop model? Not much!"
"Well, yo' done purty good."
"Wait till I curl it," said Bambi, throwing up the window and popping
her head out into the night air.
"Fo' de Lawd's sake, yo' curl yo' haih in Noo Yawk jes' lak yo' do at
home."
"Why not? This cold, damp air is just the thing. Now look at me," she
boasted, shaking her head so that the soft, curly rings fluttered like
little bells about her face.
"Yo'll do," said Ardelia.
Bambi disappeared into the closet, and presently she popped out her
head.
"Ardelia, prepare to die of joy. When you have seen my new dress, life
has nothing more to offer you."
"I ain' gwine to die till after dis show."
Out of the closet Bambi danced, her arms full of sunset clouds
apparently She held it up, and Ardelia's eyes bulged.
"Yo' don' call dat a dress?"
"Put it on me, and you'll call it a poem."
"Dey ain't nuthin' to it," she protested, as she slipped it over Bambi's
head.
It was certainly a diaphanous thing of many layers of chiffon,
graduating in colour from flame to palest apricot pink. It hung straight
and simple on Bambi's lithe figure, bringing out all the colour, the
dash, the fire-like quality in the girl's personality. The flush in her
cheeks, the glow in her eyes, even the little curls, were like twisted
tongues of flame. She whirled for Ardelia's inspection.
"I know dat ain't no decent dress, but yo' sho' is beautiful as
Pottypar's wife."
"Who's she?"
"She's in the Bible!"
Bambi laughed.
"I look like the 'fire of spring,'" she nodded to her reflection. "Of
course I'm beautiful! This is the biggest, happiest night of my life!"
A boy came for the Professor's clothes, and a little later that
distracted gentleman presented himself to have his tie arranged, and to
be looked over generally in case of omissions.
"My dear!" he exclaimed at sight of his daughter.
"_Aren't_ I wonderful?"
He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face to him.
"There is something about you to-night--elemental is the word--fire,
water, and air."
She hugged him.
"Oh, but you've got a surprise coming to you this night. You are about
to discover other unsuspected elements in your offspring."
"My dear, I'm so excited now I'm counting backward. Don't explode
anything on me or I'll lose control."
"The secret is coming out to-night."
"Is it painful?"