What did he mean?Why--just this:there was Lord Harold Gray,the real Lord behind the scenes,bringing the Lady who was really only a chorus girl to the show in his automobile;helping her dress like a maid;holding her box of jewels as he tagged after her like a big Newfoundland;smoking his one cigarette solemnly and admiringly while she was on the stage;poking after her like a tame bear.He's a funny fellow,that Lord Harold.He's a Tom Dorgan,with the brains and the graft and--and the brute,too,Mag,washed out of him;a Tom Dorgan that's been kept dressed in swagger clothes all his life and living at top-notch--a big,clean,handsome,stupid,good-natured,overgrown boy.
Yes,I'm coming to it.When I'd seen him go tagging after her chippy Ladyship behind the scenes long enough,I told Obermuller one day that it was absurd to send the mock Lady out on the boards and keep the live Lord hidden behind.He jumped at the idea,and they rigged up a little act for the two--the Lord and the Lady.Gray was furious when she heard of it--their making use of her Lord in such a way--but Lord Harold just swallowed his big Adam's apple with a gulp or two,and said:
"'Pon honor,it's a blawsted scheme,you know;but I'm jolly sure I'd make a bleddy ass of myself.I cawn't act,you know."The ninny!You know he thinks Gray really can.
But Obermuller explained to him that he needn't act--just be himself out behind the wings,and lo!Lord Harold was "chawmed."And Gray?
Why,she gave in at last;pretended to,anyway--sliding out of the Charity sketch,and rehearsing the thing with him,and all that.And--and do you know what she did,Mag?(Nance Olden may be pretty mean,but she wouldn't do a trick like that.)She waited till ten minutes before time for the thing to be put on and then threw a fit.
"She's so ill,her delicate Ladyship!So ill she just can't go on this evening!Wonder how long she thinks such an excuse will keep Lord Harold off when I want him on!"growled Obermuller,throwing her note over to me.He'd have liked to throw it at me if it'd been heavy enough to hurt;he was so thumping mad.
You see,there it was on the program:
THE CLEVER SKETCH ENTITLED
THEATRICAL ARISTOCRACY.
The Duke of Portmanteau .Lord Harold Gray.
The Duchess .Lady Gray.
The celebrated Gray jewels,including the great Rose Diamond,will be worn by Lady Gray in this number.
No wonder Obermuller was raging.I looked at him.You don't like to tackle a fellow like that when he's dancing hot.And yet you ache to help him and--yes,yourself.
"Lord Harold's here yet,and the jewels?"I asked.
He gave a short nod.He was thinking.But so was I.
"Then all he wants is a Lady?"
"That's all,"he said sarcastically.
"Well,what's the matter with me?"
He gasped.
"There's nothing the matter with your nerve,Olden.""Thank you,so much."It was the way Gray says it when she tries to have an English accent."Dress me up,Fred Obermuller,in Gray's new silk gown and the Gray jewels,and you'd never--""I'd never set eyes on you again."
"You'd never know,if you were in the audience,that it wasn't Gray herself.I can take her off to the life,and if the prompter'll stand by--"He looked at me for a full minute.
"Try it,Olden,"he said.
I did.I flew to Gray's dressing-room.She'd gone home deathly ill,of course.They gave me the best seamstress in the place.
She let out the waist a bit and pulled over the lace to cover it.
I got into that mass of silk and lace--oh,silk on silk,and Nance Olden inside!Beryl Blackburn did my hair,and Grace Weston put on my slippers.Topham,himself,hung me with those gorgeous shining diamonds and pearls and emeralds,till I felt like an idol loaded with booty.There were so many standing round me,rigging me up,that I didn't get a glimpse of the mirror till the second before Ginger called me.But in that second--in that second,Mag Monahan,I saw a fairy with blazing cheeks and shining eyes,with a diamond coronet in her brown hair,puffed high,and pearls on her bare neck and arms,and emeralds over the waist,and rubies and pearls on her fingers,and sprays of diamonds like frost on the lace of her skirt,and diamond buckles on her very slippers,and the rose diamond,like a sun,outshining all the rest;and--and,Mag,it was me!
How did it go?Well,wouldn't it make you think you were a Lady,sure enough,if you couldn't move without that lace train billowing after you;without being dazzled with diamond-shine;without a truly Lord tagging after you?
He kept his head,Lord Harold did--even if it is a mutton-head.
That helped me at first.He was so cold,so stupid,so slow,so good-tempered--so just himself.And after the first plunge--I tell you,Mag Monahan,there's one thing that's stronger than wine to a woman--it's being beautiful.Oh!And I was beautiful.
I knew it before I got that quick hush,with the full applause after it.And because I was beautiful,I got saucy,and then calm,and then I caught Fred Obermuller's voice--he had taken the book from the prompter and stood there himself--and after that it was easy sailing.
He was there yet when the act was over,and I trailed out,followed by my Lord.He let the prompt-book fall from his hands and reached them both out to me.
I flirted my jeweled fan at him and swept him a courtesy.
Cool?No,I wasn't.Not a bit of it.He was daffy with the sight of me in all that glory,and I knew it.
"Nance,"he whispered,"you wonderful girl,if I didn't know about that little thief up at the Bronsonia I'd--I'd marry you alive,just for the fun of piling pretty things on you.""The deuce you would!"I sailed past him,with Topham and my Lord in my wake.
They didn't leave me till they'd stripped me clean.I felt like a Christmas tree the day after.But,somehow,I didn't care.
