Dorothy's Triumph Part 28

Had she known what was pa.s.sing in her relative's mind, however, the girl would not for a moment have condemned her. Had she known, for instance, that Aunt Betty's prejudice against the stage as a career was not at the bottom of her refusal, but the fact that she feared Dorothy would be taken away from her in her old age, just when she had found her a second time, and learned to know and love her, she would have immediately thrown her arms around Aunt Betty's neck and making no comment have kissed her affectionately.

"Of course, I do not know the state of your finances, nor would I be so presuming as to inquire," Mr. Ludlow went on, "but it may interest you to know that if Miss Dorothy goes on the concert stage it will mean quite a tidy sum of money for her--and money, I am sure, will always prove a handy a.s.set to have around. So, both artistically and financially, it seems the proper thing for her to do."

"But I have heard that girls on the stage are exposed to many temptations," protested Aunt Betty, who felt the ground slipping from under her arguments. Realizing, as she did, that it was Dorothy's wish that she give the concert stage a trial, she was inclined to be lenient.

"A wrong impression, madame--an entirely wrong impression," said Mr.

Ludlow, emphatically. "There are temptations in stage life, yes; but so there are in other professions, and he or she who falters will find their steps to be hard ones, no matter who they are or where they be. Force of character rules on the stage, Mrs. Calvert, just as it does in every other walk of life. Thus it is that the theatrical profession shelters some of the smartest, most wonderful women the world has ever known. Because a few notoriety seekers have caused the finger of scorn to be pointed at an honorable profession, just as one dishonest employe can, and frequently does, cause a whole inst.i.tution to be looked at with suspicion, should the dramatic profession, as a whole, be made to suffer? I ask you this in all fairness, madame, and await your answer."

"Well, really, I hadn't considered it in that light," said Aunt Betty, slowly, deliberately. "I believe you are right, Mr. Ludlow, and I thank you sincerely for changing my viewpoint. Ever since I saw that great play, 'The Music Master,' with David Warfield in the part of Herr von Barwig, I have wondered if the theatrical profession was wholly a bad one. Now, I think I understand."

"I am glad it remained for me to tell you, Mrs. Calvert."

"And if my niece sees fit to arrange with you for a metropolitan appearance, and you feel that it will be a great triumph for her, I shall certainly not stand in the way."

"Oh, you dear, good auntie!" Dorothy cried, throwing her arms about Mrs. Calvert's neck and giving her a resounding kiss. "I shall thank you all my life for those few words."

"Mrs. Calvert, you have made a very sensible decision," Herr Deichenberg remarked with no little degree of satisfaction. "Believe me, I know vhat I say iss true. Und now, if you vill please allow Mr.

Ludlow to make some necessary arrangements before he takes his leave, it vill greatly facilitate matters."

Aunt Betty quickly a.s.sented, and turning to Dorothy, Mr. Ludlow said:

"What I wish is for you to appear at a preliminary concert in New York City, at a date yet to be decided upon. You will be under the watchful eye of your music master, and the affair will be given under his auspices. You will, perhaps, have some prominent vocalist to help you fill in the evening's entertainment. I wish to know if this will be agreeable?"

"Yes, if the date is not too soon," the girl replied.

"As to that, we shall suit your pleasure, so it occurs before warm weather sets in."

"It need not be later than the first of May."

"Then please sign this contract. I have drawn it up with the approval of Herr Deichenberg, but before attaching your name, I will ask you to read it and be sure you thoroughly understand it."

"Perhaps my lawyers might--" Aunt Betty began.

Herr Deichenberg raised his hand in dissent.

"Madame, it iss unnecessary. I am familiar with every form of contract und I say to you dat de one offered your niece by Mr. Ludlow is equitable and just, and can only be to her advantage."

"We will take your word, of course," replied Aunt Betty. "The only reason I spoke is that neither Dorothy or myself is well versed in contracts of any sort."

"The very reason why I prepared the contract after suggestions offered by Herr Deichenberg," said Mr. Ludlow with a good-natured smile.

"Oh, Aunt Betty!" cried Dorothy, as she read the doc.u.ment, "for one appearance in New York, I am to receive one hundred dollars and my expenses both ways. I think that is a very liberal offer."

"Merely a pittance, Miss Calvert, beside what you will get if your concert pleases the music lovers of the metropolis, who, as you are no doubt aware, are the most discriminating in the country."

"Oh, I hope I shall please them. I shall try so hard."

"You just leave dat to me," said Herr Deichenberg. "Any young lady who played as you did at my concert, need have no fear of facing a metropolitan audience."

"The plan is, Miss Calvert," Mr. Ludlow went on, in a thoroughly business-like tone, "if your New York concert proves a success, for you to sign contracts to appear next season under my management in the princ.i.p.al cities of the country. When we know positively that this is advisable, we will discuss terms, and I a.s.sure you we shall not quarrel over the matter of a few dollars, more or less."

"I'm sure we won't," replied Dorothy.

Aunt Betty found herself hoping for the success of the plan. All opposition to the matter seemed, for the time, to have slipped her mind.

Mr. Ludlow bade them good-by shortly after, and left in company with Herr Deichenberg.

Dorothy closed the door softly behind them, then, happy that her ambition was at last to become a reality, threw herself in the arms of Aunt Betty and sobbed:

"Oh, auntie, auntie, it has come at last, but it won't--it won't take me away from you."

"We must not be too sure of that, my dear," Aunt Betty replied, as calmly as she could. Her wildly-beating heart cried out for the love and sympathy that she knew only this girl could give her. How could she ever, ever bear to give her up?

"Auntie, dear," Dorothy said, straightening up and wiping her eyes with quick, nervous little dabs, "if such a thing as separation is even suggested, I shall never move a step from old Bellvieu--never, never!"

"Oh, my dear, I cannot expect you to give up a great career for me."

"What would any sort of a career be without you? Nothing--absolutely nothing! I wouldn't listen to it for a moment. Where I go there you shall go also."

"But I am getting too old to travel."

Aunt Betty's protest, however, sounded rather feeble.

"Nonsense!" the girl replied. "You were the very life of our camping party, and I'm sure riding in railroad trains is not half so strenuous as speeding forty miles an hour over country roads in an automobile. No objections, now, auntie dear, unless you want me to give up my career before it is begun."

"No, no, of course, I--"

"Of course you don't want me to do that. Certainly not. For that very reason, if for no other, you are going to accompany me wherever I go, which means that you may as well start planning that new spring dress, for we will be traveling New Yorkward ere many weeks have pa.s.sed."

"Do you think blue would be becoming, dear?"

Dorothy could have laughed outright with delight, when she saw how quickly Aunt Betty became lost in contemplation over what she should wear on the trip.

"Well, yes, if it is of the proper shade, auntie, but you know nothing becomes you so well as black."

"Black it shall be, then--black panama, with a nice new bonnet to match."

"And I, auntie, dear, what shall _I_ wear? How are we to afford all these fine things when our finances are at a low ebb?"

"Our finances are in better condition than they were, dear. A letter a few days since from my lawyers, states that certain property I have placed in their hands is rapidly increasing in value, and that I shall be able to realize from time to time such sums as I may need."

"Oh, I'm so glad! Strange you didn't tell me."

"I'd forgotten it. I really believe I am getting absent-minded."

Had Dorothy known the truth--that though the lawyers had agreed to advance certain sums, it meant a mortgage on old Bellvieu, her peace of mind would have been sadly disturbed.

But Aunt Betty took good care she did not know it--self-sacrificing soul that she was.