CHAPTER XVI
THANKSGIVING WITH THE SOUTHARDS
Thanksgiving dinner was served at exactly half-past twelve o'clock, andeaten with much merriment and good cheer. At half-past one Mr. Southardwas obliged to leave his sister and guests, and at two o'clock they weregetting into their wraps, preparatory to accompanying Miss Southard toanother theatre to see one of the most successful plays of the season.That night they saw the actor in "Hamlet," and his remarkable portrayalof the ill-fated Prince of Denmark was something long to be rememberedby the three girls as well as by the rest of the enthusiastic assemblagethat witnessed it.
"I shall never forget the awful look in his poor eyes," said Gracesolemnly. Then she joined in the insistent applause that EverettSouthard's art had evoked. Presently the actor appeared and bowed hisappreciation of the tribute. Then he made his exit nor could he beinduced to appear again.
Anne sat as though turned to stone. She could not find words to expressthe emotions that had thrilled her during Mr. Southard's marvelousportrayal of the role. His own personality was completely submerged inthat of the melancholy ghost-ridden youth, who, dedicating his life tothe purpose of avenging his father's murder, welcomed death with openarms when his purpose had been accomplished. She had seen a great playand a great actor. The first time she saw "Hamlet" she left the theatreheartsick and discouraged. To-night she was leaving it alert andtriumphant.
"Anne has been touched by the finger of Genius," smiled Miss Southard,as she marshaled her charges to their automobile.
"How did you know?" asked Anne, but in spite of her smiling lips herbrown eyes were full of tears.
"My dear, living with Everett has taught me the signs," said his sistersimply.
"I should like to play Ophelia to Mr. Southard's Hamlet," said Annedreamily.
"Perhaps you will have the chance to do so some day. Everett thinks youwould be a more convincing Ophelia than the young woman you saw in thepart to-night," encouraged Miss Southard.
Anne looked so delighted at those words that Miriam and Grace exchangedswift glances. It was evident that the genuine love of her professionlay deep within the soul of their friend.
"We will go for a short drive, then come back for Everett," planned MissSouthard. "He has promised to hurry to-night--then we will have a nicelittle supper at home." Their hostess and her brother had agreed thatthere should be no after-the-theatre suppers at any of the so-calledfashionable restaurants for their young guests. "I am sure their motherswould not approve of it," Miss Southard had said, "and I feel that I amresponsible for them every moment they are here."
The party at home was an informal affair in which there were many cooks,but no broth spoiled. To see Mr. Southard earnestly engaged in making aWelsh rarebit, an accomplishment in which he claimed to be highlyproficient, one would never have suspected him of being able to thrillvast audiences by his slightest word or gesture.
"I can't believe that only two hours ago you were 'Hamlet,'" laughedGrace. "You look anything but tragic now."
"He looked every bit as tragic just a moment ago. I saw a distinctHamlet-like expression creep into his face," stated Miriam boldly.
"You have sharp eyes," smiled Mr. Southard. "I happened to remember thatI had forgotten what goes into this rarebit next. I could feel myselfgrowing cold with despair. Then the inspiration came and now it will beready in two minutes."
The rarebit was voted a success. After decorating the actor with a bitof blue ribbon on which Miriam painstakingly printed "first premium"with a lead pencil, he was escorted to the head of the table andcongratulated roundly upon being able not only to act but to cook.
The next morning every one confessed to being a trifle sleepy, butappeared at breakfast at the usual time. After breakfast Mr. Southardcarried Anne off to met Mr. Forest, while Miss Southard, Miriam andGrace decided to go for a drive through Central Park. It was a clear,cold, sparkling day with just enough snow to make it seem like realThanksgiving weather.
"Too bad Anne can't be with us," said Grace regretfully.
"Everett will take her for a drive before bringing her home," repliedMiss Southard.
Shortly after their return to the house Mr. Southard and Anne returnedfrom their drive. Anne's eyes were sparkling and her cheeks rosy as sheran up the steps.
"Anne must have heard good news!" exclaimed Grace, running from her postat one of the drawing room windows into the hall, Miriam at her heels.
"The deed is done, girls," laughed Anne. "Behold in me the future starof the Forest Stock Company. It doesn't sound much like Rosalind, doesit? and it means awfully hard work, but I'll earn enough money nextsummer to almost finish paying my way through college."
"Hurrah!" cried Grace. "We won't allow you to become lonesome. We willcome and visit you during vacation."
"That ought to reconcile me to having to work all summer," smiled Anne."I shall be selfish and manage to have some of you girls with me all thetime."
"How do you like Mr. Forest?" asked Miriam.
"Ever so much," returned Anne. "Like most successful men, he is quietand unassuming. Mr. Southard and he did almost all the talking. I spokewhen I was spoken to and did as I was bid."
"Good little Anne," jeered Miriam. "As a reward of merit we will takeyou shopping this afternoon."
"How would you like to go to the opera to-night?" asked Mr. Southard."'Madame Butterfly' is to be sung."
"Better than anything else, now that I've seen 'Hamlet'!" exclaimedGrace, with shining eyes. Miriam and Anne both expressed an eagerdesire to hear Puccini's exquisite opera, and Miss Southard called twoof her friends on the telephone, inviting them to join the box party.The same evening gowns had to do duty for the opera as well as for"Hamlet," but this did not detract one whit from their pleasantanticipations. "The people who saw us at the theatre the other nightwon't see us at the opera," argued Grace. The three girls were inGrace's room holding a consultation on the subject of what to wear.
"That is if they saw us at all," laughed Miriam. "Elfreda says Oakdaleisn't down on the map, you know."
"That reminds me, what excuse did you make to Miss Southard aboutElfreda not coming with us, Anne?" asked Grace.
"I merely said she had changed her mind about coming."
"Did you mention that she changed it violently?" slyly put in Miriam.
"I did not," was the smiling assertion. "I don't like to think about it,let alone mention it."
"Do you suppose she'll improve the opportunity and tell Anne's privateaffairs all over college?" questioned Miriam.
"I don't know," said Grace briefly. "Let us put her out of our minds fornow. It won't do any good to worry about what she may or may not do.When we go back to Overton we shall know."
That night the girls listened to the wonderful voice of the prima donnawhose name has become synonymous with that of "Chu Chu San," the littleJapanese maid. Anne wondered as she drank in the music whether thisbeautiful young prima donna had ever had any scruples about appearingbefore the public. Miriam was thinking that David would be bitterlydisappointed when he knew that Anne was going back to the stage duringvacation. While, though she would not have confessed it for worlds, thethrobbing undercurrent of heart break that ran through the music wasfilling Grace with unmistakable homesickness. She wanted her mother andshe wanted her badly. What would she not give to feel her mother's deararms around her. When the curtain shut out the still form of theJapanese girl and the prima donna received her usual ovation, the tearsthat stood in Grace's eyes were not alone a tribute to the singer andthe tragic death of Chu Chu San.
* * * * *
On Saturday morning the girls went on another shopping expedition, andin the afternoon attended a recital given by a celebrated pianist.After the recital, instead of going home, Miss Southard surprised herguests by taking them over to the theatre where her brother was playing.Mr. Southard had arranged that they should be admitted to his dressingroom. It was the same theatre in which Anne had played t
he previouswinter and several of the stage hands recognized her and bowedrespectfully to her as she passed through to the actor's dressing room.They found him still in costume. He never changed to street clothing onmatinee days.
"You are respectfully and cordially invited to eat dinner in my dressingroom," announced Mr. Southard the moment they were fairly inside thedoor. "I have ordered dinner for six o'clock."
Eating dinner in a dressing room was an innovation as far as Grace andMiriam were concerned, but to Anne it was nothing new. It had been inthe usual order of things during her brief engagement in "As You LikeIt." As it was after five o'clock when they arrived it seemed only alittle while until a waiter appeared with table linen and silver, whichMr. Southard ordered arranged on the table that had been brought in forthe occasion. Then the dinner was served and eaten with much gayety andlaughter. After dinner, a pleasant hour of conversation followed, andlater on the visitors were introduced to the various members of thecompany. Unlike many professionals who have achieved greatness, Mr.Southard was thoroughly democratic, and displayed none of the snobbishtactics with his company which so often humiliate and embitter thelesser lights of a theatrical company.
At eight o'clock they said good-bye to the actor. Through the courtesyof Mr. Forest they were to witness a play in which a wonderful littlegirl of fifteen who had taken New York by storm was to appear. After theplay they were to pick up Mr. Southard at his theatre and go hometogether. That night another jolly little supper was held in theSouthards' dining room, then three sleepy young women fairly tumbledinto their beds, completely tired out by their eventful day.
As the return to Overton was to be made on the noon train, the Southardhousehold rose in good season on Sunday morning. Breakfast was rather aquiet meal, for the shadow of saying good-bye hung over the little houseparty.
"When shall we see you again, I wonder?" sighed Miss Southardregretfully. "You are going home for Christmas, I suppose."
"Oh, yes," replied Grace quickly. "I wish you might spend it with us,but I suppose it would be out of the question. You must come to Oakdalenext summer. We can't entertain you with plays and recitals, but we canget up boating and gypsy parties. The boys will be home, then, and wecan arrange to have plenty of good times. Will you come?"
"With pleasure if all is well with us at that time," promised Mr.Southard, and his sister.
When the last good-byes had been said and the girls were comfortablysettled for the afternoon's ride that lay before them they were forcedto admit that they were just a little tired.
"We have had a perfectly wonderful holiday," asserted Grace, "and theSouthards are the most hospitable people in the world, but it seems asthough I'd never make up my lost sleep. I shall become a rabid advocateof the half-past ten o'clock rule for the next week at least. I wonderhow the boys spent Thanksgiving. Of course they went to the footballgame. I'll warrant Hippy ate too much."
"I wish Jessica and Nora could have been with us," remarked Anne. "MissSouthard wrote them, too, but they couldn't come. Did you see Nora'stelegram?"
"Yes," replied Grace. "It said a letter would follow. I suppose she'llexplain in that. Well, it's back to college again for us. I wonder ifElfreda has moved."
"We shall know in due season," returned Miriam grimly. "I have visionsof the appearance of my hapless room, if she has vacated it. I expect tosee my best beloved belongings scattered to the four corners or elsepiled in a heap in the middle of the floor."
"Perhaps she has thought it over and come to the conclusion that thereare worse roommates than you," suggested Anne hopefully.
The early winter darkness was falling when the three girls hurried upthe stairs at Wayne Hall as fast as the weight of their suit cases wouldpermit. Miriam's door was closed. She knocked on it, at first softly,then with more force. Hearing no sound from within she turned the knob,flung open the door and stepped inside. Striking a match, she lightedthe gas and looked about her. The room was in perfect order, but novestige of Elfreda's belongings met her eye. The stout girl had kept herword.