The Adventures of Sally by P. G. Wodehouse (good books for 7th graders .TXT) π
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- Author: P. G. Wodehouse
Read book online Β«The Adventures of Sally by P. G. Wodehouse (good books for 7th graders .TXT) πΒ». Author - P. G. Wodehouse
βI wish I could have come. I had to go to that dinner, though. Sally...β Gerald paused, and Sally saw that he was electric with suppressed excitement. βSally, the play's going to be put on!β
Sally gave a little gasp. She had lived this moment in anticipation for weeks. She had always known that sooner or later this would happen. She had read his plays over and over again, and was convinced that they were wonderful. Of course, hers was a biased view, but then Elsa Doland also admired them; and Elsa's opinion was one that carried weight. Elsa was another of those people who were bound to succeed suddenly. Even old Mr. Faucitt, who was a stern judge of acting and rather inclined to consider that nowadays there was no such thing, believed that she was a girl with a future who would do something big directly she got her chance.
βJerry!β She gave his arm a hug. βHow simply terrific! Then Goble and Kohn have changed their minds after all and want it? I knew they would.β
A slight cloud seemed to dim the sunniness of the author's mood.
βNo, not that one,β he said reluctantly. βNo hope there, I'm afraid. I saw Goble this morning about that, and he said it didn't add up right. The one that's going to be put on is 'The Primrose Way.' You remember? It's got a big part for a girl in it.β
βOf course! The one Elsa liked so much. Well, that's just as good. Who's going to do it? I thought you hadn't sent it out again.β
βWell, it happens...β Gerald hesitated once more. βIt seems that this man I was dining with to-nightβa man named Cracknell...β
βCracknell? Not the Cracknell?β
βThe Cracknell?β
βThe one people are always talking about. The man they call the Millionaire Kid.β
βYes. Why, do you know him?β
βHe was at Harvard with Fillmore. I never saw him, but he must be rather a painful person.β
βOh, he's all right. Not much brains, of course, butβwell, he's all right. And, anyway, he wants to put the play on.β
βWell, that's splendid,β said Sally: but she could not get the right ring of enthusiasm into her voice. She had had ideals for Gerald. She had dreamed of him invading Broadway triumphantly under the banner of one of the big managers whose name carried a prestige, and there seemed something unworthy in this association with a man whose chief claim to eminence lay in the fact that he was credited by metropolitan gossip with possessing the largest private stock of alcohol in existence.
βI thought you would be pleased,β said Gerald.
βOh, I am,β said Sally.
With the buoyant optimism which never deserted her for long, she had already begun to cast off her momentary depression. After all, did it matter who financed a play so long as it obtained a production? A manager was simply a piece of machinery for paying the bills; and if he had money for that purpose, why demand asceticism and the finer sensibilities from him? The real thing that mattered was the question of who was going to play the leading part, that deftly drawn character which had so excited the admiration of Elsa Doland. She sought information on this point.
βWho will play Ruth?β she asked. βYou must have somebody wonderful. It needs a tremendously clever woman. Did Mr. Cracknell say anything about that?β
βOh, yes, we discussed that, of course.β
βWell?β
βWell, it seems...β Again Sally noticed that odd, almost stealthy embarrassment. Gerald appeared unable to begin a sentence to-night without feeling his way into it like a man creeping cautiously down a dark alley. She noticed it the more because it was so different from his usual direct method. Gerald, as a rule, was not one of those who apologize for themselves. He was forthright and masterful and inclined to talk to her from a height. To-night he seemed different.
He broke off, was silent for a moment, and began again with a question.
βDo you know Mabel Hobson?β
βMabel Hobson? I've seen her in the 'Follies,' of course.β
Sally started. A suspicion had stung her, so monstrous that its absurdity became manifest the moment it had formed. And yet was it absurd? Most Broadway gossip filtered eventually into the boarding-house, chiefly through the medium of that seasoned sport, the mild young man who thought so highly of the redoubtable Benny Whistler, and she was aware that the name of Reginald Cracknell, which was always getting itself linked with somebody, had been coupled with that of Miss Hobson. It seemed likely that in this instance rumour spoke truth, for the lady was of that compellingly blonde beauty which attracts the Cracknells of this world. But even so...
βIt seems that Cracknell...β said Gerald. βApparently this man Cracknell...β He was finding Sally's bright, horrified gaze somewhat trying. βWell, the fact is Cracknell believes in Mabel Hobson...and... well, he thinks this part would suit her.β
βOh, Jerry!β
Could infatuation go to such a length? Could even the spacious heart of a Reginald Cracknell so dominate that gentleman's small size in heads as to make him entrust a part like Ruth in βThe Primrose Wayβ to one who, when desired by the producer of her last revue to carry a bowl of roses across the stage and place it on a table, had rebelled on the plea that she had not been engaged as a dancer? Surely even lovelorn Reginald could perceive that this was not the stuff of which great emotional actresses are made.
βOh, Jerry!β she said again.
There was an uncomfortable silence. They turned and walked back in the direction of the boarding-house. Somehow Gerald's arm had managed to get itself detached from Sally's. She was conscious of a curious dull ache that was almost like a physical pain.
βJerry! Is it worth it?β she burst out vehemently.
The question seemed to sting the young man into something like his usual decisive speech.
βWorth it? Of course it's worth it. It's a Broadway production. That's all that matters. Good heavens! I've been trying long enough to get a play on Broadway, and it isn't likely that I'm going to chuck away my chance when it comes along just because one might do better in the way of casting.β
βBut, Jerry! Mabel Hobson! It's... it's murder! Murder in the first degree.β
βNonsense. She'll be all right. The part will play itself. Besides, she has a personality and a following, and Cracknell will spend all the money in the world to make the
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