"Well?" he ejaculated.
"Quite well, thank you," she replied as she slid in the crack. He looked
her over.
"Where did you come from?" he demanded.
"I was out there when you swept the horizon with your eye, but you must
have missed me. I didn't run up a flag."
She was so little and so saucy that he had to smile.
"What do you want?" he asked directly.
"I want to talk with you, for about three minutes."
"I don't engage people for the shows."
"I don't want a job."
"Well, what do you want? Talk fast. My time is precious."
"I have here a very fine play, called 'Success,' which would be a good
investment for you."
"Who wrote it?"
"My husband."
He glanced at her.
"I thought child marriage was prohibited in this state."
She dimpled back at him, deliciously.
"It is modern, dramatic."
"Comedy?"
"No."
"Nothing else has much chance. Leave it, and I will read it."
"When?"
[Illustration: "TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO PUT YOU IN A PLAY, AND I'LL PUT IT
ON." "MUCH OBLIGED, I'LL TELL HIM. GOOD MORNING."]
"As soon as I can."
"But we have to go home next Thursday."
"You don't expect me to read it before then?"
"Couldn't you?"
"I wouldn't read Pinero's latest before then."
"How soon would you read it?"
"I've got nine productions to look after. I only read on trains. I'm
going to Buffalo to-night."
"Then you could take it along to-night?" she cried happily.
"Say, who let you in here, anyhow?"
"You did."
"I've got no time to talk to anybody."
"I'm not anybody. I'm I. Just promise me you'll read it to-night and
I'll go."
"Is this it? Name and address on it?"
She nodded.
"All right. To-night. Now get out!"
"Thanks. I've had such a nice call." As she reached the door he spoke.
"Tell your husband to put you in a play and I'll put it on."
"Much obliged. I'll tell him. Good morning."
She made her farewells to Robert Mantell Moses, went out and down the
street. It was definitely settled in her mind that she was to market
Jarvis's wares. She had a gift for it, a desperate courage in a crisis,
that made her do anything to win her point and get what she came for.
Jarvis would, no doubt, be sitting, still. He was waiting for her at
the club.
"I was getting anxious about you. Did you go to a doctor?"
"Doctor?"
"For your head?"
"Oh, my head. I'd forgotten all about it. After you left, I felt so much
better that I decided to go out."
"Looking for more adventures?"
"I never look for them. They--flock to my standard. No, I took the play
and stormed a manager's office. I saw him, in spite of himself, and got
him to promise to read the play to-night on the way to Buffalo."
"Who was he?"
"Claghorn."
"How did you get to him?"
"He ran through the big office into his private one, and was just about
to pull up the drawbridge, when I sprang in after him."
"Just tell it to me in plain English, Bambi."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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