The Girl From His Town

by Marie Van Vorst

  CHAPTER IV--IN THE CORAL ROOM

  "Mandalay" had run at the Gaiety the season before and again opened theautumn season. Light and charming, thoroughly musical, it had touredsuccessfully through Europe, but London was its home, and its greatpopularity was chiefly owing to the girl who had starred in it--LettyLane. Her face was on every post-card, hand-bill, cosmetic box, and evenpopular drinks were named for her.

  The night of the Osdene box party was the reopening of _Mandalay_, andthe curtain went up after the overture to an outburst of applause. DanBlair had never "crossed the pond" before this memorable visit, when hehad gone straight out to Osdene Park. London theaters and London itself,indeed, were unexplored by him. He had seen what there was to be seen ofthe opera bouffe in his own country, but the brilliant, perfectperformance of a company at the London Gaiety he had yet to enjoy.

  The opening scene of _Mandalay_ is oriental; the burst of music and thetinkling of the silvery temple bells and the effect of an extremely bluesea, made Dan "sit up," as he put it. The theatrical picture was soperfect that he lifted his head, pushed his chair back to enjoy. He wasthus close to the duchess. With invigorating young enthusiasm the boydrew in his breath and waited to be amused and to hear. The tunes healready knew before the orchestra began to charm his ear.

  On landing at Plymouth Dan had been keen to feel that he was reallystepping into the world, and at Osdene Park he had been daily, hourly"seeing life." The youngest of the household, his youth nevertheless wasnot taken into consideration by any of them. No one had treated him likea junior. He had gone neck to neck with their pace as far as he liked,furnished them fresh amusement, and been their diversion. In all hisrare unspoiled youth, Blair had been suddenly dropped down in an effeteset that had whirled about him, and one by one out of the inner circlehad called him to join them; and one by one with all of them Dan hadwhirled.

  Lord Galorey had talked to him frankly, as plainly as if Dan had beenhis own father, and found much of the old man's common sense in his fineblond head. Lady Galorey had come to him in a moment of great anxiety,and no one but her young guest knew how badly she needed help. He hadfurther made it known to the lady that he was not in the marriagemarket; that she could not have him for any of her girls. And as for theDuchess of Breakwater, well--he had whirled with her until his head swam.He had grown years older at the Park in the few weeks of his visit, butnow for the first time, as the music of _Mandalay_ struck upon his ears,like a ripple of distant seas, he felt like the boy who had leftBlairtown to come abroad. He had spent the most part of the day inLondon with a man who had come over to see him from America. Danattended to his business affairs, and the people who knew said that hehad a keen head. Mr. Joshua Ruggles, his father's best friend, whom Danthis afternoon had left to go to his room at the Carlton, had put hisarm with affection through the boy's:

  "Don't look as though it were any too healthy down to the place you'revisiting at, Dan. Plumbing all right?"

  And the boy, flushing slightly, had said: "Don't you fret, Josh, I'lllook after my health all right."

  "There's nothing like the mountain air," returned the Westerner. "Theseold fogs stick in my nostrils; feel as though I could smell London cleandown to my feet!"

  * * * * *

  From the corner of the box Dan looked hard at the stage, at the freshbrilliant costumes and the lovely chorus girls.

  "Gosh," he thought to himself, "they are the prettiest ever! Dove-gray,eyes of Irish blue, mouths like roses!"

  Leaning forward a little toward the duchess he whispered: "There isn'tone who isn't a winner. I never struck such a box of dry goods!"

  The duchess smiled on Dan with good humor. His naive pleasure wasdelightful. It was like taking a child to a pantomime. She was wearinghis flowers and displaying a jewel that he had found and bought for her,and which she had not hesitated to accept. She watched his eager faceand his pleasure unaffected and keen. She could not believe that thisyoung man was master of ten million pounds.

  When Letty Lane appeared Blair heard a light rustle like rain throughthe auditorium, a murmur, and the house rose. There was a well-bredcalling from the stalls, a call from the pit, and a generousapplause--"Letty Lane--Letty Lane!" and as though she were royalty, therewas a fluttering of handkerchiefs like flags. The young fellow with theothers stood in the back of the box, his hands in his pockets, lookingat the stage. There wasn't a girl in the chorus as pretty as this primadonna! Letty Lane came on in _Mandalay_ in the first act in the dress ofa fashionable princess. She was modish and worldly. For the only time inthe play she was modern and conventional, and whatever breeding shemight have been able to claim, from whatever class she was born, as shestood there in her beautiful gown she was grace itself, and charm. Shewas distinctly a star, and showed her appreciation of her audience'sadmiration.

  At the end of the tenor solo the Princess Oltary runs into the pavilionand there changes her dress and appears once more to dance before therajah and to prove herself the dancer he has known and loved in a cafein Paris. Letty Lane's dress in this dance was the classic balletdancer's, white as the leaves of a lily. She seemed to swim and float;actually to be breathed and exhaled from out her filmy gown; and theonly ray of color in her costume was her own golden hair, surmounted bya small coral-colored cap, embroidered in pearls. The actress bowed tothe right and left, ran to the right, ran to the left; glanced towardthe Duchess of Breakwater's box; acknowledged the burst of applause;began to dance and finished her _pas seul_, and with folded hands sangher song. Her beautiful voice came out clear as crystal water from acrystal rock, and her words were cradled like doves, like boats on theboundless seas....

  "From India's coral strand...."

  But there was no hymn tune to this song of Letty Lane's in _Mandalay_!To the boy in the box, however, the words, the tune, the droning of theflies on the window-pane, the strong odor of the hymn-books and panamafans, came back, and the clear sunlight of Montana seemed to steal intothe Gaiety as Letty Lane sang.

  The Duchess of Breakwater clapped with frank enthusiasm, and said: "Sheis a perfect wonder, isn't she? Oh, she is _too_ bewitching!"

  And she turned for sympathy to her friend, who stood behind her, hisface illumined. He was amazed; his blue eyes ablaze, his head bentforward, he was staring, staring at the Gaiety curtain, gone down on thefirst act.

  He laughed softly, and the duchess heard him say:

  "_Good!_ Well, I should say she was! She's a girl from our town!"

  When the duchess tried to share her enthusiasm with Dan he haddisappeared. He left the box and with no difficulty made his way as faras the first wing.

  "Can you get me an entrance?" he asked a man he had met once at Osdeneand who was evidently an habitue.

  "I dare say. Rippin' show, isn't it?"

  [Image]

  Dan put his hand on ducal shoulders and followed the nobleman throughthe labyrinth of flies.

  "Which of 'em do you want to see, old man?"

  Dan, without replying, went forward to a small cluster of lights in oneof the wings. He went forward intuitively, and his companion caught hisarm: "Oh, I say, for _God's_ sake, don't go on like this!"

  But without response Dan continued his direction. A call page stoodbefore the door, and Dan, on a card over the entrance, read "Miss Lane."The smell of calcium and paint and perfume and the auxiliaries hungheavy on the air. The other man saw Dan knock, knock again and then goin.

  Unannounced Dan Blair opened the door of the dressing-room of theactress. Miss Lane's dressing-rooms were worth displaying to herintimate friends. They were done with great taste in coral tint. Shemight have been said to be in a coral cave under the sea, as far asyoung Blair was concerned. As he came in he felt his ears deaden, andthe smoke of cigarettes grew so thick that he looked as through a veil.The dancer was standing in the center of the room, one hand on her hip,and in the other hand a cigarette. Her short skirt stood out around herlike a bell, and over the bell fell a r
ain of pinkish coral strands. Shewore a thin silk slip, from which her neck and arms came shining out,and her woman knelt at her feet strapping on a little coral shoe.

  Blair shut the door behind him, and began to realize how rude, howimpertinent his entrance would be considered. But he came boldly forwardand would have introduced himself as "Dan Blair from Blairtown," butMiss Lane, who stared at the entrance through the smoke, burst into alaugh so bright, so delightful, that he was carried high up on the coralstrands to the very beach. She crossed her white arms over her breastand leaned forward, as a saleswoman might lean forward over a counter,and with her beautifully trained voice, all sweetly she asked him:

  "Hello, little boy, what will _you_ take?"

  Blair giggled, quick to catch her meaning, and answered: "Oh, chocolate,I guess!"

  And Letty Lane laughed, put out her white hand, the one without thecigarette, and said: "Haven't got that brand on board--so sorry! Will acocktail do? All sorts in bottles. Higgins, fix Mr. Blair a Martini."

  As the dresser rose from her stooping position, the rest of Letty Lane'sdressing-room unfolded out of the mist and smoke. On a sofa covered withlace pillows Blair saw a man sitting, smoking as well. He was tall andhad a dark mustache. It was Prince Poniotowsky, whom Dan had already metat the Galorey shoot.

  "Prince Poniotowsky," Miss Lane presented him, "Mr. Blair, of Blairtown,Montana. Say, Frederick, give me my cap, will you? It is over by yourside. I've got to hustle."

  The man, without moving, picked up a small red cap with a single plume,from the sofa at his side. In another second Letty Lane had placed it onher head of yellow hair, real yellow hair and not a doubt of it, likesunshine--not the color one gets from inside bottles. Her arms, her handsflashed with rings, priceless flashes, and the little spears pricked Danlike sharp needles.

  "It's the nicest ever!" she was saying. "How on earth did you get inhere, though? Have you bought the Gaiety Theater? I'm the most exclusivegirl on the stage. Who let you in?"

  Her accent was English, and even that put her from him. As he looked ather he couldn't understand how he had ever recognized her. If he hadwaited for another act he wouldn't have believed the likeness real. Thegirl he remembered had both softened and hardened; the round featureswere gone, but all the angles were gone as well. Her eyes were as grayas the seas; she was painted and her lids were darkened. Seen close, shewas not so divine as on the stage, but there was still a more thrillingcharm about the fact that she was real.

  "To think of any one from Montana being here to-night! Staying verylong, Mr. Blair?" Between each sentence she directed Higgins, who wasgetting her into her bodice. "And how do you like _Mandalay_? Isn't itgreat?"

  She addressed herself to Dan, but she smiled on both the men withextreme brilliance.

  "You bet your life," he responded. "I should think it was great."

  Poniotowsky rose indolently. He had not looked toward the new-comer, buthad, on the other hand, followed every detail of Miss Lane's dressing.

  "Better take your scarf, Letty. Hand it to Miss Lane," he directedHiggins. "It is so damned drafty in these beastly wings."

  He drew his watch out, gathered up his long coat, flung it over his armand picked up his opera hat which lay folded on Letty Lane'sdressing-table.

  The call page for the third time summoned "Miss La--ne, Miss La--ane," andshe took the scarf Higgins handed her and ran it through her hands,still beaming on Dan.

  "Come in to see me at the Savoy on any day at two-thirty except onmatinee days."

  "Put on your scarf." Poniotowsky, taking it from her hands, laid itacross her white shoulders, and she passed out between the two men,light as a bird, smiling, nodding, followed by the prince and the boyfrom Montana. The crowds began to fill the lately empty wings--dancers,chorus girls with their rustling gowns. Letty Lane said to Dan:

  "Guess you'll like my solo in this act all right--it's the best thing in_Mandalay_. Now go along, and clap me hard."

  It gave him a new pleasure, for she had spoken to him in real Americanfashion with the swift mimicry that showed her talent. Dan went slowlyback to his party. As he took his seat by the duchess she said to him:

  "You went out to see Letty Lane. Do you know her?"

  "Know her!" And as Dan answered, the sound of his own voice was queer tohim, and his face flushed hotly. "Lord, yes. She used to be in the drugstore in Blairtown. Sold soda-water to me when we were both kids.Whoever would have thought that she had that in her!" He nodded towardthe stage, for Letty Lane had come on. "She sang in our church, too, butnot for long."

  "Who was with her in her dressing-room?" the duchess asked. Blair didn'tanswer. He was looking at Letty Lane. She had come to dance for therajah and in her arms she held four white doves; each dove had a coralthread around its throat. It was a number that made her famous, _TheDove Song_. Set free, the birds flew about her, circling her blond head,surmounted by the small coral-colored cap. The doves settled on hershoulders, pecked at her lips.

  "Was it Poniotowsky?" the duchess repeated.

  And Dan told her a meaningless lie. "I didn't meet any one there." Andwith satisfaction the duchess said:

  "Then she has thrown him over, too. He was the latest and the richest.She is horribly extravagant. No man is rich enough for her, they say.Poniotowsky isn't a gold mine."

  The doves had flown away to the wings and been gathered up by the Indianservants. The actress on the stage began her Indian cradle song. Shecame, distinctly turning toward the box party. She had never sung likethis in London before. There was a freshness in her voice, a quality inher gesture, a pathos and a sweetness that delighted her audience. Theyfairly clamored for her, waved and called and recalled. Dan stoodmotionless, his eyes fastened on her, his heart rocked by the song. Hedidn't want any one to speak to him. He wished that none of them wouldbreathe, and nearly as absorbed as was he, no one did speak.