Bambi Part 25

"Poor old Knight with the Broken Lance," she said. "It's tough, but it had to be done."

"What had to be done?"

"This morning's work. It was part of your training. You must know just what the situation is here, in the market-place."

"But there is no place for me here."

"After two days' failure, you give up?"

"I told you I couldn't sell my things. They are too good."

"That's rubbish. Nothing you, nor I, nor any other human can think, is too good. If we have big thoughts, and want to tell them to our brothers who speak another tongue, if we have the brains, we must learn their tongue, not hope for them to acquire ours. That is what I hoped you would see."

"You think I've got to learn the Broadway lingo?"

"I do. If you have anything to say, Broadway needs it."

"I can't translate what I want to say into that speech."

"But you can. It will mean hard work, hard work and heartache, and disappointment, but you can do it, because you have the soul stuff of a great man."

Her eyes shone now, misted with feeling. He saw again his mult.i.tudes flocking to him in the wilderness. He saw them aroused, revived, triumphant over life through him.

"Will you help me?" he cried to her. It was his first uttered need of her, and her heart beat high in response.

"I will, if you will let me, Jack o' Dreams."

"Don't let me give up! Don't let me lose heart!"

"No, I won't. I'll push, or haul you, to the top!"

"I came to scoff, and I stay to pray," said Jarvis, cryptically. "G.o.d bless you, Bambi!" he added, as he left her.

X

No letter from Mr. Strong arrived in the morning's mail, so Bambi induced Jarvis to go over to the Cubist show, by himself, on the plea that she had a headache. He went, most willingly, anywhere, except Broadway.

The minute he was out of the way her languid, headachey manner changed to one of brisk energy. She donned her smartest frock and hat. She was more earnest in her effort to allure the eye than she was on the day of her own conquest. "You must look your best, you little old Bambi, you, and see what you can do for big Jarvis!"

After the last nod of approval at her reflected self, she tucked Jarvis's ma.n.u.script under her arm, and started forth. She had made a close study of all the theatrical columns of the papers and magazines since their arrival in New York, so she was beginning to have a formal bowing acquaintance with the names of the leading managers.

In spite of her cheerful acceptance of Jarvis's mood of despair, the day before, she was really deeply touched by it, and appealed to by his helplessness to cope with the situation. She remembered her words to her father, "He cannot accommodate himself to the commercial standards of the times." It was so true. And was she right in submitting him to them so ruthlessly? Was she blunting something fine in him by this ugly picture she was holding up for him to see, of a thoroughly commercialized drama, the laws and restrictions of which he must know and conquer, or be silenced? All the mother in her hated to have him hurt, but the sensible helpmeet part of her knew that it must be done.

Of course he could not be expected to know how to approach managers, all at once. He was probably very tactless. He admitted that he had called the enemy of yesterday a "pig." Naturally that was no way to help his cause. Perhaps, after this experience, and his new cognizance of conditions, it would be better for him to write in quiet and solitude, while she acted as salesman.

"I'm just plain adventuress enough to love the fight of it," she admitted to herself as she approached the office she had selected for her first try. She tripped in, confidently, and addressed the office boy.

"Mr. Claghorn in?" she asked.

"Nope."

"When do you expect him?"

"Oh, any time. He's in and out."

"I'll wait."

"Probably won't be back until after lunch."

A railing shut off the hall where she stood from the office proper, where the boy was on guard. Doors opened off this central room into the private offices. There were no chairs in this hall, and the boy made no move to open the railing.

"Is that large armchair in there rented for the day?" Bambi inquired.

"Not so far as I know," he grinned.

"Does this thing open, or do I have to jump it?" she smiled.

"Where are you goin'?"

"To the large armchair."

"Welcome to our city," said he, as he lifted the rail. "n.o.body allowed in here except by appointment."

"That's all right. I understand that," she said nonchalantly, and sank into the haven of the chair.

All the details of the office, which bored Jarvis, or which he entirely failed to see, fascinated Bambi. She set herself to the subjection of the office boy, by a request for the baseball score.

"Say, are you a fan?" he asked.

"Can't you see it in my eye?"

He was launched. He gave her a minute biographical sketch of every player on the team, his past and future possibilities. He went over all the games of the past season, while Bambi turned an enraptured face upon him.

He was frequently interrupted by actors and actresses who came by appointment, or otherwise, and he gave her all the racy details concerning them at his disposal. By indirection she obtained a description of Claghorn, so that he might not escape her if he came in.

All the actors looked at her with interest, the actresses with disdain.

One whispered to the boy, who shook his head.

"Say, what you wid?" he asked her later.

"I don't understand you."

His look became suspicious. "What show you with?"

"With 'Success,'" she answered hastily, patting the ma.n.u.script.

"Roadshow?"