Bambi Part 51

"Career? Career, did you say, for stupid little me?"

"I never called you stupid," he protested.

"I should hope not. I'm the smartest child you ever had!" she cried as a period to their discourse.

All day she waited for word from Jarvis and none came. She could have cried with disappointment. Could he have been insane enough to refuse, after he had read the story? Or did he think she was indifferent to his good fortune? She went to bed determined to write him on the morrow.

The morning mail brought a second letter from the Empire Theatre. It contained a line from Mr. Frohman, "He accepts," and an enclosure. This proved to be a letter from Jarvis:

_"To the Author of 'Francesca,' care of Mr. Frohman, Empire Theatre, New York._

"MY DEAR MADAM: Mr. Charles Frohman has given me your story 'Francesca'

to read, with a view to making it into a play. Of course you are familiar with his plans in this respect. He has offered to entrust me with the dramatization, and I have consented to accept, on the condition that both you and he will allow me to use my own discretion in the work, and not hamper me by superimposing your own ideas and desires. When I have finished all I can do with it, I will then try to incorporate any ideas you may have in the final version.

"I think the story very charming, the characters interesting. The part of the musician seems to me rather fantastic, but I suppose there are such men. The girl, Francesca, is delightful; the old fiddler, a fine study.

"You are to be congratulated on your work, and I trust I may be able to make as good a play as you have made a book.

"Very truly yours,

"JARVIS JOCELYN."

Bambi chuckled as she read, and patted the part which praised her.

Whatever else had happened, Jarvis's dignity was still intact. He calmly told the author to keep her hands off her own book! She flew to the typewriter to answer him.

_"Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn, care of Mr. Charles Frohman, Empire Theatre, New York._

"MY DEAR MR. JOCELYN: Your letter in regard to the dramatization of my book, 'Francesca,' seems to demand immediate a.s.surance that you will have free rein in the work you are to do. Mr. Frohman has told me something of you and of your work, and I shall be very happy if my story gives you your first opportunity to succeed as a playwright.

"I am glad you are pleased with my story. Did you know that it was my first one? Your comment on the character of the musician interested me, as it is a close portrait of a friend.

"Trusting that we may work together to a successful end, I am

"Sincerely,

"THE AUTHOR.

"P.S. For private reasons I prefer to remain unknown to you. You can always reach me through Mr. Frohman's office. You must forgive typed letters."

This she sent to the Frohman office, with a request that it be forwarded. The next day brought Jarvis's news:

"DEAR BAMBI: For three days I have resisted the constant temptation to send you word of what seemed to be extraordinarily good news, but many disappointments have made me a doubting Thomas, so I held off until I was really sure. To begin at the beginning, I was at the lowest ebb of disgust with myself last week for my inability to get in step with the grand march. Only a fool can be excused for failure, and I am not that.

So a summons from the Frohman office somewhat restored my self-respect.

It seems that Mr. Frohman has never forgotten my previous interview, so when he decided to make a play of a popular novel ent.i.tled 'Francesca,'

he immediately thought of me.

"Of course this is not the kind of play I want to do, so I said I would look over the book and if I liked it I would have a try at it. The long and the short of it is I have accepted. The woman who wrote the thing has promised to keep out of it. She seems to be a nice kind of person, but for some reason wants to make a mystery of herself. Frohman hints at a domestic tragedy as her reason. I'm sure I do not care about her private affairs.

"She has written a clever and delightful book. The heroine, oddly enough called Francesca, suggests you in places, except that she is a more practical sort than you are. The hero, a musician, is a sort of sublimated madman. The best character of all is an old fiddler. There is a play in it. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced of that.

"Would you care to help me on it? Both of our names could go on the bill. I have come to know, these last months, since I have been working at things here alone, how much the growth in my work is due to you. The human touch you have given my characters, or helped me to give them, is the essential element in my improvement. You started a good many wires to jangling that spring day when you indulged your mad impulse to marry an impossibility!

"Regards to the Professor.

"Yours,

"JARVIS."

Bambi went to the telegraph office and wired him:

"Congratulations. Of course I'll help! Come home.

"BAMBI."

He answered, by letter, that he thought it best to stay on until Mr.

Frohman and the author were both satisfied with the framework of the play. Then he would come, most gladly, to work in the old study. He would submit his ideas for a scenario the next day or so.

From that moment the fun began for Bambi. He wrote daily about the outline, and weekly letters to the author were forwarded to her from the Frohman office. These she answered, disguised as the author, with many a chuckle of amus.e.m.e.nt. A sort of friendliness crept into these letters as they increased in number.

Christmas week arrived with no definite a.s.surance from Jarvis as to his plans, but Bambi was confident that he would be at home for the holiday.

Professor Parkhurst demanded daily bulletins of his son-in-law's intentions, while Ardelia bemoaned and bewailed lest he fail to return.

The day before Kris Kringle was due a white snow descended like a benediction. Bambi and the Professor sat before a huge, crackling fire in the library. She was restless as a spirit. She sat at the piano and sang "O Lonely Pine Tree Standing," until the Professor objected.

"Sing something gay, my child."

"G.o.d rest ye, merry gentleman, Let nothing ye dismay, For Jesus Christ, the Saviour, Was born on Christmas Day,"

she sang gladly.

All at once her hands fell silent on the keys, while she stared at the doorway a full second before she rose. Jarvis stood there looking at her. He was powdered with snowflakes. He held his soft hat crushed against him, showing his hair, glistening with snow, and curled close to his head with dampness. It was his face that focussed her attention. The old proud carriage of the head was there, but an asking look had come into his eyes and mouth in place of the old arrogance. In the second she hesitated she saw all this--caught the glow and the beauty of him, as well as the appeal.

"Jarvis!" she cried, and met him halfway across the room, both hands out.

"Bambi!" he answered her huskily, and she knew that he was moved at the sight of her. He crushed her hands in his, and drank her in, from her s.h.i.+ning eyes to her boots, oblivious to the startled Professor, who stood looking on.

"Welcome home!" said Bambi, unsteadily.

"Did you come through the roof?" inquired Professor Parkhurst.

"I had a pa.s.skey. How are you?" Jarvis laughed, mangling the Professor's hand. The latter rescued and inspected his limp fingers.

"I am well, but I shall never use that hand again."

"You have come home," said Bambi, foolishly.

"I have. My, but it's good to be here! I got Frohman's approval on the framework of the play to-day, and ran for the first train."