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the bar drinking before wending his belated way homeward, " you can help

the boys out, I guess. "

" What is it? " said McGarren, pleased to be consulted by the opulent

manager.

" The Custer Lodge is getting up a little entertainment for their own

good, and they'd like a little newspaper notice. You know what I mean-

-a squib or two saying that it's going to take place. "

" Certainly, " said McGarren, " I can fix that for you, George. "

At the same time Hurstwood kept himself wholly in the background. The

members of Custer Lodge could scarcely understand why their little

affair was taking so well. Mr. Harry Quincel was looked upon as quite

a star for this sort of work.

By the time the 16th had arrived Hurstwood's friends had rallied like

Romans to a senator's call. A well-dressed, good-natured,

flatteringly-inclined audience was assured from the moment he thought

of assisting Carrie.

That little student had mastered her part to her own satisfaction, much

as she trembled for her fate when she should once face the gathered

throng, behind the glare of the footlights. She tried to console

herself with the thought that a score of other persons, men and women,

were equally tremulous concerning the outcome of their efforts, but she

could not disassociate the general danger from her own individual

liability. She feared that she would forget her lines, that she might

be unable to master the feeling which she now felt concerning her own

movements in the play. At times she wished that she had never gone

into the affair; at others, she trembled lest she should be paralyzed

with fear and stand white and gasping, not knowing what to say and

spoiling the entire performance.

In the matter of the company, Mr. Bamberger had disappeared. That

hopeless example had fallen under the lance of the director's

criticism. Mrs. Morgan was still present, but envious and determined,

if for nothing more than spite, to do as well as Carrie at least. A

loafing professional had been called in to assume the role of Ray, and,

while he was a poor stick of his kind, he was not troubled by any of

those qualms which attack the spirit of those who have never faced an

audience. He swashed about (cautioned though he was to maintain

silence concerning his past theatrical relationships) in such a self-

confident manner that he was like to convince every one of his identity

by mere matter of circumstantial evidence.

" It is so easy, " he said to Mrs. Morgan, in the usual affected stage

voice. " An audience would be the last thing to trouble me. It's the

spirit of the part, you know, that is difficult. "

Carrie disliked his appearance, but she was too much the actress not to

swallow his qualities with complaisance, seeing that she must suffer

his fictitious love for the evening.

At six she was ready to go. Theatrical paraphernalia had been provided

over and above her care. She had practiced her make-up in the morning,

had rehearsed and arranged her material for the evening by one o'clock,

and had gone home to have a final look at her part, waiting for the

evening to come.

On this occasion the lodge sent a carriage. Drouet rode with her as

far as the door, and then went about the neighboring stores, looking

for some good cigars. The little actress marched nervously into her

dressing-room and began that painfully anticipated matter of make-up

which was to transform her, a simple maiden, to Laura, The Belle of

Society.

The flare of the gas-jets, the open trunks, suggestive of travel and

display, the scattered contents of the make-up box--rouge, pearl

powder, whiting, burnt cork, India ink, pencils for the eye-lids, wigs,

scissors, looking-glasses, drapery--in short, all the nameless

paraphernalia of disguise, have a remarkable atmosphere of their own.

Since her arrival in the city many things had influenced her, but

always in a far-removed manner. This new atmosphere was more friendly.

It was wholly unlike the great brilliant mansions which waved her

coldly away, permitting her only awe and distant wonder. This took her

by the hand kindly, as one who says, " My dear, come in. " It opened for

her as if for its own. She had wondered at the greatness of the names

upon the bill-boards, the marvel of the long notices in the papers, the

beauty of the dresses upon the stage, the atmosphere of carriages,

flowers, refinement. Here was no illusion. Here was an open door to

see all of that. She had come upon it as one who stumbles upon a

secret passage and, behold, she was in the chamber of diamonds and

delight!

As she dressed with a flutter, in her little stage room, hearing the

voices outside, seeing Mr. Quincel hurrying here and there, noting Mrs.

Morgan and Mrs. Hoagland at their nervous work of preparation, seeing

all the twenty members of the cast moving about and worrying over what

the result would be, she could not help thinking what a delight this

would be if it would endure; how perfect a state, if she could only do

well now, and then some time get a place as a real actress. The

thought had taken a mighty hold upon her. It hummed in her ears as the

melody of an old song.

Outside in the little lobby another scene was begin enacted. Without

the interest of Hurstwood, the little hall would probably have been

comfortably filled, for the members of the lodge were moderately

interested in its welfare. Hurstwood's word, however, had gone the

rounds. It was to be a full-dress affair. The four boxes had been

taken. Dr. Norman McNeill Hale and his wife were to occupy one. This

was quite a card. C. R. Walker, dry-goods merchant and possessor of at

least two hundred thousand dollars, had taken another; a well-known

coal merchant had been induced to take the third, and Hurstwood and his

friends the fourth. Among the latter was Drouet. The people who were

now pouring here were not celebrities, nor even local notabilities, in

a general sense. They were the lights of a certain circle--the circle

of small fortunes and secret order distinctions. These gentlemen Elks

knew the standing of one another. They had regard for the ability

which could amass a small fortune, own a nice home, keep a barouche or

carriage, perhaps, wear fine clothes, and maintain a good mercantile

position. Naturally, Hurstwood, who was a little above the order of

mind which accepted this standard as perfect, who had shrewdness and

much assumption of dignity, who held an imposing and authoritative

position, and commanded friendship by intuitive tact in handling

people, was quite a figure. He was more generally known than most

others in the same circle, and was looked upon as some one whose

reserve covered a mine of influence and solid financial prosperity.

To-night he was in his element. He came with several friends directly

from Rector's in a carriage. In the lobby he met Drouet, who was just

returning from a trip for more cigars. All five now joined in an

animated conversation concerning the company present and the general

drift of lodge affairs.

" Who's here? " said Hurstwood, passing into the theatre proper, where

the lights were turned up and a company of gentlemen were laughing and

talking in the open space back of the seats.

" Why, how do you do, Mr. Hurstwood? " came from the first individual

recognized.

" Glad to see you, " said the latter, grasping his hand lightly.

" Looks quite an affair, doesn't it? "

" Yes, indeed, " said the manager.

" Custer seems to have the backing of its members, " observed the friend.

" So it should, " said the knowing manager. " I'm glad to see it. "

" Well, George, " said another rotund citizen, whose avoirdupois made

necessary an almost alarming display of starched shirt bosom, " how goes

it with you? "

" Excellent, " said the manager.

" What brings you over here? You're not a member of Custer. "

" Good-nature, " returned the manager. " Like to see the boys, you know. "

" Wife here? "

" She couldn't come to-night. She's not well. "

" Sorry to hear it--nothing serious, I hope. "

" No, just feeling a little ill. "

" I remember Mrs. Hurstwood when she was traveling once with you over

to St. Joe--" and here the newcomer launched off in a trivial

recollection, which was terminated by the arrival of more friends.

" Why, George, how are you? " said another genial West Side politician

and lodge member. " My, but I'm glad to see you again; how are things,

anyhow? "

" Very well; I see you got that nomination for alderman. "

" Yes, we whipped them out over there without much trouble. "

" What do you suppose Hennessy will do now? "

" Oh, he'll go back to his brick business. He has a brick-yard, you

know. "

" I didn't know that, " said the manager. " Felt pretty sore, I suppose,

over his defeat. " " Perhaps, " said the other, winking shrewdly.

Some of the more favored of his friends whom he had invited began to

roll up in carriages now. They came shuffling in with a great show of

finery and much evident feeling of content and importance.

" Here we are, " said Hurstwood, turning to one from a group with whom he

was talking.

" That's right, " returned the newcomer, a gentleman of about forty-five.

" And say, " he whispered, jovially, pulling Hurstwood over by the

shoulder so that he might whisper in his ear, " if this isn't a good

show, I'll punch your head. "

" You ought to pay for seeing your old friends. Bother the show! "

To another who inquired, " Is it something really good? " the manager

replied:

" I don't know. I don't suppose so. " Then, lifting his hand graciously,

" For the lodge. "

" Lots of boys out, eh? "

" Yes, look up Shanahan. He was just asking for you a moment ago. "

It was thus that the little theatre resounded to a babble of successful

voices, the creak of fine clothes, the commonplace of good-nature, and

all largely because of this man's bidding. Look at him any time within

the half hour before the curtain was up, he was a member of an eminent

group--a rounded company of five or more whose stout figures, large

white bosoms, and shining pins bespoke the character of their success.

The gentlemen who brought their wives called him out to shake hands.

Seats clicked, ushers bowed while he looked blandly on. He was

evidently a light among them, reflecting in his personality the

ambitions of those who greeted him. He was acknowledged, fawned upon,

in a way lionized. Through it all one could see the standing of the

man. It was greatness in a way, small as it was.

Chapter XIX

AN HOUR IN ELFLAND--A CLAMOUR HALF HEARD

At last the curtain was ready to go up. All the details of the make-

up had been completed, and the company settled down as the leader of

the small, hired orchestra tapped significantly upon his music rack

with his baton and began the soft curtain-raising strain. Hurstwood

ceased talking, and went with Drouet and his friend Sagar Morrison

around to the box.

" Now, we'll see how the little girl does, " he said to Drouet, in a tone

which no one else could hear.

On the stage, six of the characters had already appeared in the opening

parlor scene. Drouet and Hurstwood saw at a glance that Carrie was not

among them, and went on talking in a whisper. Mrs. Morgan, Mrs.

Hoagland, and the actor who had taken Bamberger's part were

representing the principal roles in this scene. The professional,

whose name was Patton, had little to recommend him outside of his

assurance, but this at the present moment was most palpably needed.

Mrs. Morgan, as Pearl, was stiff with fright. Mrs. Hoagland was husky

in the throat. The whole company was so weak-kneed that the lines were

merely spoken, and nothing more. It took all the hope and uncritical

good-nature of the audience to keep from manifesting pity by that

unrest which is the agony of failure.

Hurstwood was perfectly indifferent. He took it for granted that it

would be worthless. All he cared for was to have it endurable enough

to allow for pretension and congratulation afterward.

After the first rush of fright, however, the players got over the

danger of collapse. They rambled weakly forward, losing nearly all the

expression which was intended, and making the thing dull in the

extreme, when Carrie came in.

One glance at her, and both Hurstwood and Drouet saw plainly that she

also was weak-kneed. She came faintly across the stage, saying:

" And you, sir; we have been looking for you since eight o'clock, " but

with so little color and in such a feeble voice that it was positively

painful.

" She's frightened, " whispered Drouet to Hurstwood.

The manager made no answer.

She had a line presently which was supposed to be funny.

" Well, that's as much as to say that I'm a sort of life pill. "

It came out so flat, however, that it was a deathly thing. Drouet

fidgeted. Hurstwood moved his toe the least bit.

There was another place in which Laura was to rise and, with a sense of

impending disaster, say, sadly:

" I wish you hadn't said that, Pearl. You know the old proverb, 'Call a

maid by a married name. '"

The lack of feeling in the thing was ridiculous. Carrie did not get it

at all. She seemed to be talking in her sleep. It looked as if she

were certain to be a wretched failure. She was more hopeless than Mrs.

Morgan, who had recovered somewhat, and was now saying her lines

clearly at least. Drouet looked away from the stage at the audience.

The latter held out silently, hoping for a general change, of course.

Hurstwood fixed his eye on Carrie, as if to hypnotize her into doing

better. He was pouring determination of his own in her direction. He

felt sorry for her.

In a few more minutes it fell to her to read the letter sent in by the

strange villain. The audience had been slightly diverted by a

conversation between the professional actor and a character called

Snorky, impersonated by a short little American, who really developed

some humor as a half-crazed, one-armed soldier, turned messenger for a

living. He bawled his lines out with such defiance that, while they

really did not partake of the humor intended, they were funny. Now he

was off, however, and it was back to pathos, with Carrie as the chief

figure. She did not recover. She wandered through the whole scene

between herself and the intruding villain, straining the patience of

the audience, and finally exiting, much to their relief.

" She's too nervous, " said Drouet, feeling in the mildness of the remark

that he was lying for once.

" Better go back and say a word to her. "

Drouet was glad to do anything for relief. He fairly hustled around to

the side entrance, and was let in by the friendly doorkeeper. Carrie

was standing in the wings, weakly waiting her next cue, all the snap

and nerve gone out of her.

" Say, Cad, " he said, looking at her, " you mustn't be nervous. Wake up.

Those guys out there don't amount to anything. What are you afraid

of? "

" I don't know, " said Carrie. " I just don't seem to be able to do it. "

She was grateful for the drummer's presence, though. She had found the

company so nervous that her own strength had gone.

" Come on, " said Drouet. " Brace up. What are you afraid of? Go on out

there now, and do the trick. What do you care? "

Carrie revived a little under the drummer's electrical, nervous

condition.

" Did I do so very bad? "

" Not a bit. All you need is a little more ginger. Do it as you showed

me. Get that toss of your head you had the other night. "

Carrie remembered her triumph in the room. She tried to think she

could to it.

'What's next? " he said, looking at her part, which she had been

studying.

" Why, the scene between Ray and me when I refuse him. "

" Well, now you do that lively, " said the drummer. " Put in snap, that's

the thing. Act as if you didn't care. "

" Your turn next, Miss Madenda, " said the prompter.

" Oh, dear, " said Carrie.

" Well, you're a chump for being afraid, " said Drouet. " Come on now,

brace up. I'll watch you from right here. "

" Will you? " said Carrie.

" Yes, now go on. Don't be afraid. "

The prompter signaled her.

She started out, weak as ever, but suddenly her nerve partially

returned. She thought of Drouet looking.

" Ray, " she said, gently, using a tone of voice much more calm than when

she had last appeared. It was the scene which had pleased the director

at the rehearsal.

" She's easier, " thought Hurstwood to himself.

She did not do the part as she had at rehearsal, but she was better.

The audience was at least not irritated. The improvement of the work

of the entire company took away direct observation from her. They were

making very fair progress, and now it looked as if the play would be

passable, in the less trying parts at least.

Carrie came off warm and nervous.

" Well, " she said, looking at him, " was it any better? "

" Well, I should say so. That's the way. Put life into it. You did

that about a thousand per cent. better than you did the other scene.

Now go on and fire up. You can do it. Knock 'em. "

" Was it really better? "

" Better, I should say so. What comes next? "

" That ballroom scene. "

" Well, you can do that all right, " he said.

" I don't know, " answered Carrie.

" Why, woman, " he exclaimed, " you did it for me! Now you go out there

and do it. It'll be fun for you. Just do as you did in the room. If

you'll reel it off that way, I'll bet you make a hit. Now, what'll you

bet? You do it. "

The drummer usually allowed his ardent good-nature to get the better of

his speech. He really did think that Carrie had acted this particular

scene very well, and he wanted her to repeat it in public. His

enthusiasm was due to the mere spirit of the occasion.

When the time came, he buoyed Carrie up most effectually. He began to

make her feel as if she had done very well. The old melancholy of

desire began to come back as he talked at her, and by the time the

situation rolled around she was running high in feeling.

" I think I can do this. "

" Sure you can. Now you go ahead and see. "

On the stage, Mrs. Van Dam was making her cruel insinuation against

Laura.

Carrie listened, and caught the infection of something--she did not

know what. Her nostrils sniffed thinly.

" It means, " the professional actor began, speaking as Ray, " that

society is a terrible avenger of insult. Have you ever heard of the

Siberian wolves? When one of the pack falls through weakness, the

others devour him. It is not an elegant comparison, but there is

something wolfish in society. Laura has mocked it with a pretence, and

society, which is made up of pretence, will bitterly resent the

mockery. "

At the sound of her stage name Carrie started. She began to feel the

bitterness of the situation. The feelings of the outcast descended

upon her. She hung at the wing's edge, wrapped in her own mounting

thoughts. She hardly heard anything more, save her own rumbling blood.

" Come, girls, " said Mrs. Van Dam, solemnly, " let us look after our

things. They are no longer safe when such an accomplished thief

enters. "

" Cue, " said the prompter, close to her side, but she did not hear.

Already she was moving forward with a steady grace, born of

inspiration. She dawned upon the audience, handsome and proud,

shifting, with the necessity of the situation, to a cold, white,

helpless object, as the social pack moved away from her scornfully.

Hurstwood blinked his eyes and caught the infection. The radiating

waves of feeling and sincerity were already breaking against the

farthest walls of the chamber. The magic of passion, which will yet

dissolve the world, was here at work.

There was a drawing, too, of attention, a riveting of feeling,

heretofore wandering.

" Ray! Ray! Why do you not come back to her? " was the cry of Pearl.

Every eye was fixed on Carrie, still proud and scornful. They moved as

she moved. Their eyes were with her eyes.

Mrs. Morgan, as Pearl, approached her.

" Let us go home, " she said.

" No, " answered Carrie, her voice assuming for the first time a

penetrating quality which it had never known. " Stay with him! "

She pointed an almost accusing hand toward her lover. Then, with a

pathos which struck home because of its utter simplicity, " He shall not

suffer long. "

Hurstwood realized that he was seeing something extraordinarily good.

It was heightened for him by the applause of the audience as the

curtain descended and the fact that it was Carrie. He thought now that

she was beautiful. She had done something which was above his sphere.

He felt a keen delight in realizing that she was his.

" Fine, " he said, and then, seized by a sudden impulse, arose and went

about to the stage door.

When he came in upon Carrie she was still with Drouet. His feelings

for her were most exuberant. He was almost swept away by the strength

and feeling she exhibited. His desire was to pour forth his praise

with the unbounded feelings of a lover, but here was Drouet, whose

affection was also rapidly reviving. The latter was more fascinated,

if anything, than Hurstwood. At least, in the nature of things, it

took a more ruddy form.

" Well, well, " said Drouet, " you did out of sight. That was simply

great. I knew you could do it. Oh, but you're a little daisy! "

Carrie's eyes flamed with the light of achievement.

" Did I do all right? "

" Did you? Well, I guess. Didn't you hear the applause? "

There was some faint sound of clapping yet.

" I thought I got it something like--I felt it. "

Just then Hurstwood came in. Instinctively he felt the change in

Drouet. He saw that the drummer was near to Carrie, and jealousy

leaped alight in his bosom. In a flash of thought, he reproached

himself for having sent him back. Also, he hated him as an intruder.

He could scarcely pull himself down to the level where he would have to

congratulate Carrie as a friend. Nevertheless, the man mastered

himself, and it was a triumph. He almost jerked the old subtle light

to his eyes.

" I thought, " he said, looking at Carrie, " I would come around and tell

you how well you did, Mrs. Drouet. It was delightful. "

Carrie took the cue, and replied:

" Oh, thank you. "

" I was just telling her, " put in Drouet, now delighted with his

possession, " that I thought she did fine. "

" Indeed you did, " said Hurstwood, turning upon Carrie eyes in which she