Blue-grass and Broadway
that he saw that the game was up unless he did what he must do. During
the rest of their luncheon they talked about the Trevors.
Straight from the Astor Mr. Vandeford walked into the office of Mr.
Weiner.
"Weiner," he asked, without any sort of preamble, "will you give a
month's try-out of my play, 'The Purple Slipper,' in your New Carnival
Theater from October first to November first, with a proper guarantee,
and then an option on an unlimited run there if it makes good, for a
half-interest in 'The Rosie Posie Girl' _without_ Hawtry?" Mr. Vandeford
knew that he was offering Mr. Weiner a good thing, for the rights of
"The Rosie Posie Girl" had been hotly contested by all the big
theatrical managers on Broadway the winter before, and Mr. Vandeford had
got them from Hilliard because of his success with "Dear Geraldine" by
the same author. They had all coveted it because it was one of those
combinations about the success of which there could be no doubt. In
offering Weiner a half-interest Mr. Vandeford was aware that he was
offering him at least a hundred thousand dollars, but Mr. Vandeford's
hunch about the purple on purple was beginning to cost him dear, though
at least a hundred thousand dollars did not seem too much to pay to keep
the agony of failure out of a pair of sea-gray eyes that had trusted him
the first time they had looked into his.
"With Hawtry it goes; without Hawtry, no, Mr. Vandeford," was the prompt
answer.
"With Hawtry six months from now?" questioned Mr. Vandeford.
"It is that I have a weak heart, Mr. Vandeford, and I do not trade in
futures," answered Mr. Weiner, with a spark in his black eyes.
"You know my fix, Weiner; now what will you take for the New Carnival
October first for my Hawtry show?"
"I will trade that entire 'Rosie Posie Girl' manuscript, with all rights
for that New Carnival Theater on October first, with option for the
entire season, Mr. Vandeford," said Mr. Weiner, rolling his big cigar
from one side of his mouth to the other.
"Without Hawtry?"
"I have a new Hawtry right now--in pickle," Mr. Weiner answered.
"Will the New Carnival certainly be finished October first?"
"Yes, to a certainty of a large guarantee."
"How long will you give me to answer?" asked Mr. Vandeford.
"I have made an appointment with S. & K. to talk that New Carnival
Theater for a show at five o'clock to-day, Mr. Vandeford. I will call it
six o'clock for you," answered Weiner, as he turned the screw with all
show of consideration for his fellow producer.
"I'll be back at four-forty-five," Mr. Vandeford answered him, and with
no further good-by took his departure.
Arriving at his office, Mr. Vandeford directed Mr. Meyers that he was to
have half an hour entirely undisturbed, entered his own office, and
after a second's pause went into the little office that had been
assigned to Miss Adair, the author, and sat down in the chair she very
seldom occupied, but which was hers by tenancy. On the desk were a pair
of silk gloves she had left there the day before, and in a blue vase
were several roses in a good state of preservation, which he recognized
as having come from a bunch Miss Adair had been wearing after having had
luncheon with Mr. Gerald Height on Monday. These objects disturbed Mr.
Vandeford vaguely. He put them out of his mind roughly and went into
conference with himself sternly. Literally he was weighing the
question.
On one side of the balance he laid "The Rosie Posie Girl," which, with
Hawtry, was sure to run on Broadway for at least two seasons and make
for him a fortune that was indefinitely large and sure. Beside this, its
production would insure him a position among the country's really great
producers. The show was big enough in conception to admit of a
spectacularly artistic treatment, which he had intended to give it so
that it would place musical comedy on a plane upon which it had never
stood before. He knew himself well enough to know that a real triumph of
that kind once accomplished, he would want to turn to other fields of
endeavor, and he could see his greater self standing patiently waiting
for his lesser to be liberated by the process of climbing out of the
very top of the theatrical profession.
Sternly he turned from himself to the filling of the other pan of the
scales in which he was weighing the question. He looked for something to
put in to over-balance the certainty of "The Rosie Posie Girl," and
found nothing but a vast uncertainty with many potentialities. "The
Purple Slipper" was a play of no known classification, and with Hawtry
in it was still less fish, flesh, fowl, or good red herring. And there
was added the uncertainty of that week from the twenty-third to the
first during which he had no legal hold on the fair Violet. He felt
reasonably sure that the announcement that "The Purple Slipper" would
open the big new Weiner theater, with all the clash of publicity which
he could give to it, would hold her steady on her job, but as he laid it
down on the scales, it had to be classed as an uncertainty. The fifteen
per cent. seat sales based on Mr. Gerald Height's appearance in silk
tights, velvet, and lace was about the only positive he had to lay in
the scales, and that, of course, failed to tip them to any degree. For
about fifteen minutes he sat perfectly rigid. Then he gently laid on the
uncertain side of the scales the positive and concrete faith in a pair
of sea-gray eyes, jeweled with tears, and watched "The Rosie Posie
Girl" rise high as "The Purple Slipper" sank down heavily.
After this he took a rose from the green vase, stuck it in his
buttonhole, and went forth--into his own office. He there rang his
buzzer for Mr. Meyers, and seated himself with the air of a man who has
had a burden lifted off his shoulders rather than with the air of one
about to give away half a million dollars.
"Pops, 'The Rosie Posie Girl' is sold, lock, stock, and barrel, to
Weiner for a month's try-out of 'The Purple Slipper' at the New Carnival
Theater, good guarantee for that month, and an option on a run to the
limit for eight-thousand-a-week houses. Get Lusky over the 'phone, and
you and he have the contracts drawn as tight as wax by four-thirty."
"But, Mr. Vandeford, sir, I must have a say that--"
"No, Pops, don't say anything."
"With a pardon it is that I think that Miss Adair is a very fine lady,
and so also 'The Purple Slipper.'" With this incoherent pronouncement
of sympathy and encouragement, though devastated at the loss of "The
Rosie Posie Girl," upon which he had already spent many creative days,
Mr. Meyers departed into the outer office.
For a long minute Mr. Vandeford glared at the unoffending rose in his
buttonhole, then smiled, ran his hands through his hair, turned to the
telephone, and plunged into the last lap of the race of "The Purple
Slipper." Until four o'clock he was closeted with the most brilliant
theatrical publicity man in New York City; then he took his contracts
and went over to Weiner's office and sacrificed "The Rosie Posie Girl"
to--
An hour later he had told his partner, Mr. Dennis Farraday, all about
it, and showed him the deeds of execution.
"You ought not to have done it, Van. It was too big a price to pay," Mr.
Farraday declared, with his mane rumpled on high.
"No," answered Mr. Vandeford, in happy calmness. "'The Purple Slipper'
will pay it all out--one way or another."
"It must," declared Mr. Farraday, with helpless energy. "What can I do?"
"Oh, be the usual ray of sunshine around the place and--and keep the
Violet happy and busy until we land on Broadway." Mr. Vandeford said
this with a coldness in tone and voice that he had to force hard. His
attitude was that he had had to sacrifice himself so why not sacrifice
Mr. Farraday also? And he hated himself for that attitude.
"I understand, and you can count on me," answered Mr. Farraday, with
such an innocently happy face that Mr. Vandeford groaned inwardly at the
fact that he did not understand, and would surely be made to soon if his
calculations on the intentions of Miss Hawtry were correct.
"I've arranged for a chair-car to take the whole company down to
Atlantic City Sunday morning, so the whole bunch can have a plunge and a
good rest-up before the Monday dress rehearsal." Mr. Farraday produced
that piece of business with great pride.
"Good!" was all the commendation that he got, and he betook himself off
for other good-natured efforts on the affairs of "The Purple Slipper."
Though at times Mr. Godfrey Vandeford approached the heroic in action,
he was very human in reflexes and, having paid a price for the happiness
of Miss Patricia Adair, he proceeded to partake of as much of that
happiness as he could get hold of. He captured the author of "The Purple
Slipper" after the rehearsals on Friday, which were the last before the
dress rehearsal in Atlantic City on Monday night, because the cast of a
play are, after all, so many human beings, who have to be given at least
a day for such animal functions as packing trunks, closing apartments,
dodging creditors, and severing home ties, and he carried her off to the
country with the intention of having her all to himself for dinner at a
little inn up Westchester way. After they had started in that direction
and were flying behind Valentine along sun-gilded country lanes, he
changed his mind, changed the road slightly, and had them landed under
the wing of Mrs. Farraday for dinner. He did this with direct intention.
He judged himself, and decided that it would be safest to announce to
Miss Adair that her play was to have the honor of opening the great New
Carnival Theatre on Broadway somewhere within two hundred yards of Mrs.
Farraday. This program he carried out with efficient directness and then
found a strange lacking in himself.
"Oh, how wonderful you are!" was Miss Adair's exclamation when he had
imparted his news just as a young moon was silvering the poplar under
which they sat on an old stone bench at the bottom of the sunken garden.
"Everybody has said that you couldn't do it, but I didn't worry at all
like the rest of them. I knew that you could."
"How did you know that I could do it?" he asked, and he rejoiced with
pride that his author did not yet know of either the existence or his
sacrifice of "The Rosie Posie Girl."
"Why, I don't know--I knew just because I--I--" For the first time Mr.
Vandeford was absolutely certain of the flutter towards him, and at the
same time felt certain that he was the first man who ever had been
certain of it; and just as his breast and arms were hollowing themselves
to nest it he--denied it and himself. He didn't want it at a purchase
price, and he took Miss Adair home and locked her in the Y. W. C. A.
before midnight.
The journey down to Atlantic City on Sunday morning was accomplished
with much joy and hilarity. The entire cast of "The Purple Slipper"
acted like boys and girls let out of school, and mischievous children at
that. Miss Adair enjoyed it all immensely, and at times she very timidly
joined in the fun, which was centering itself upon putting Mr. Leigh of
the uncertain feet, and Miss Grayson, the glowerer, into white ribbon
bonds, which bonds were supplied from a large box of bonbons, the
identity of the donor of which she refused to reveal, though Mr. Kent
declared he had brought her to the station in a gold limousine with
diamond wheels, and bore the name of Billy Astorbilt.
Only Miss Hawtry held aloof, as she and her maid and various pieces of
ultra luggage occupied the four seats at the end of the car. The seat
next her was kept vacant, and at various times during the several hours'
run Mr. Vandeford, Mr. Height, and Miss Adair occupied it with