CHAPTER XV
GREETING OLD FRIENDS
To spend their brief holiday with the Southards was the next best thingto going home, in the opinion of the Oakdale girls. Mr. Southard metthem at the station with his automobile, and a twenty minutes' drivebrought them to the Southard home. Miss Southard met them at the doorwith welcoming arms. She was particularly delighted to see Anne, for thefew weeks Anne had spent in their house had endeared her to theSouthards and made them wish her their "little sister" in reality ratherthan by fond adoption.
"What shall we do after dinner to-night?" asked Miss Southard, as sheshowed her guests to their rooms after the first affectionate greetingshad been exchanged. "Everett, as you know, is appearing as Hamlet, andwishes you to see him in the part. However, he has engaged a box for usfor to-morrow night. To-night we will go to some other theatre if youwish."
"To tell you the truth," replied Anne, slipping her hand into that ofthe older woman, "we'd rather spend the evening quietly with you. Thatis, unless you care particularly about our going out."
Miss Southard's face revealed her pleasure at this announcement. "Wouldyou really?" she asked. "I should like to have you girls to myselfrather than go to the theatre, but I supposed you would prefer seeing asuccessful play to staying at home with me."
"Nothing could drag us from the house after that confession," laughedGrace. "For my part I think it would be much nicer to stay at home. Wehave so much to tell you."
Dinner was a merry meal. Mr. Southard, who in the meantime had come infrom the theatre, became so absorbed in the conversation of his youngguests that both he and his sister forgot the time. The entrance intothe dining room of James, his valet, with his hat and coat, and thewarning words, "Ten minutes past seven, sir," caused him to spring fromhis chair, glance at his watch with a rueful smile, and hurry out towhere his car stood waiting for him.
"It's nice to be an idol of the public, but it's hard on the idol justthe same," sighed Grace, as the door closed after him. "Shall we see himagain to-night?"
"You may stay up and wait for him if you wish," returned Miss Southard,"but it will be after midnight. 'Hamlet' is a long play."
"I saw Mr. Southard in 'Hamlet' long before I knew him," remarked Anne."My father and I were in New York rehearsing the play in which Iafterwards refused to work. The manager of our company was a friend ofMr. Southard. One night he asked me if I would like to see the greatestactor in America play 'Hamlet.' I said that Everett Southard was theonly man I ever wished to see in the role. I shall never forget how Ifelt when he handed me a slip of paper. It was in Mr. Southard 'shandwriting and called for two seats at the theatre where he wasplaying. He said he had asked Mr. Southard for the passes purposely forme, because," Anne flushed slightly, "he insisted that in me lay themaking of a great artist, and that I ought to see nothing but the greatplays, enacted by great players."
"How interesting!" exclaimed Grace. "You never told us anything aboutyour stage days before. What did you think after you saw 'Hamlet'?"
"I went about in a dream for days afterward," confessed Anne. "Then, Ibegan to hate the play we were rehearsing, and finally ended by refusingto stay in the company. Mother was with my sister in Oakdale, so I wentto them. I felt that there was no chance for me to ever become great. Ihad no faith in my own ability, and I was determined not to waste mylife as a second or third rate actor. So I gave up the stage and decidedto try to get an education, then teach. You know the rest of my story.Now comes the hardest part. After giving up all idea of the stage, thedoor that I thought was barred has been opened to me. The unbelievablehas come to pass, and I have in a measure achieved what once seemedunattainable. Do you think that I ought to bury my one talent when mycollege days are over and become a teacher, or do you believe that Ishould put it to good use by becoming an exponent of the highestdramatic art?"
Anne paused, looking almost melancholy in her earnestness.
"My dear child," said Miss Southard gravely. "You are straining yourmental eyes with trying to look into the future. Wait until graduationday comes. By that time you will know what is best for you to do. As faras your work in the theatre is concerned, I consider that it is far moreto your credit to use the talent God has given you to help yourselfthrough college, than to wear yourself out doing tutoring or servants'work. There is no stigma attached to my brother's art, why should therebe to yours?"
"Good for you, Miss Southard," cheered Grace. "I'll tell you a secret.Anne thinks just as you do, only she won't say so."
"While you are here, Anne, Everett wishes you to meet Mr. Forest, themanager of the stock company he wrote you about," continued MissSouthard.
"He is a playwright, producer and manager all in one, isn't he?" askedMiriam. "I have seen ever so many pictures of him, and read a great dealabout him. They say he is always on the lookout for material for stars."
"Yes," returned Miss Southard. "He was in Europe during Anne'sengagement here last winter. Nevertheless, he heard of her and askedEverett a great many questions about her. I think he will offer her anengagement for next summer with a certain stock company which hecontrols."
"How can I ever repay you and Mr. Southard for all you have done forme?" said Anne earnestly.
"By accepting the engagement," laughed Grace.
"Grace is right," agreed Miss Southard. "Everett and I are trying tohelp Anne in the way we think best."
"Then I will be pleasing myself, too," confessed Anne. "For I love mydramatic work as well as I do that of the college. Now, let us talkabout Oakdale and all our friends. We have so many things to tell you."
It was after eleven o'clock when the girls retired. They had decided notto stay up until Mr. Southard's return. Once in their rooms they foundthemselves too sleepy for conversation and five minutes after theirlights were out they were fast asleep.
They were up in good season the next morning, as it had been agreed thatthey should be present at the morning service in the church theSouthards attended. Thanksgiving dinner was to be served at exactly halfpast twelve o'clock, instead of at night, for Mr. Southard had a matineeas well as an evening performance to give and never left the theatre fordinner during this short intermission.
In church that morning as she sat listening to the beautiful service,Grace felt that she had everything for which to be thankful. In herheart she said an earnest little prayer for all those unfortunates towhom life had grudged even bread. She resolved to be more kind andhelpful during the coming year, and prayed that she might see the rightclearly and have the courage always to choose it.
"I felt as though I wanted to be superlatively good all the rest of mylife," confessed Miriam on the way home. "That minister preached asthough he loved the whole world and wished it to be happy."
"He does. He is a very fine man," said Miss Southard, "and does splendidwork among the very poor people. It will perhaps surprise you to knowthat he was at one time an actor of great promise in Mr. Southard'scompany. Then he received the conviction that his duty lay in enteringthe ministry and he left the stage, entered a theological institute andafter receiving his degree came back to New York as the pastor of asmall church on the East Side. Everett and I were among his mostfaithful parishioners. Then later on he received an appointment to thechurch we just left, and has been there ever since."
"That will be an interesting story to tell the girls when we go back tocollege," said Grace thoughtfully. "He is a wonderful man, he made mefeel as though it paid to do one's best."
"That is the reason he has been so successful in his work, I suppose,"remarked Anne. "He makes other people feel that it pays to be good,too."
From the subject of the actor-minister the conversation drifted toOverton. Miss Southard listened interestedly to Grace's vividdescription of the college, the various halls and even the faculty.
"Then you are satisfied with your choice? You never wish that you hadentered Vassar or Smith or any other college?"
"Yes, I am satisfied," declared Grace, while Mir
iam and Anne echoed herreply, but Grace might have truthfully added that there were times wheneven the glorious privilege of being an Overton freshman had itsdrawbacks.