Cinderella Jane. Marjorie Benton Cooke
silent.
Jane, who was not in the least embarrassed, came to his rescue.
"Tell me exactly what I am to do, please, Mr. Paxton."
"Well, there is a platform and a long flight of stairs leading down from it. The tableaux form on the stage and then dissolve and go down the stairs into the throne room."
"I see. Am I in a tableau?"
"No, you go alone. You appear with the head, on the charger, hold it up so they can see it, then you come down the stairs."
"That isn't hard. Then what?"
"You go to the throne, display the head to Herod and the Queen, and run off with it, stage right."
"Is that all?"
"No, you come on later, during a dancing number, walk across and sit on the steps of the throne, watching the dancers. If that is too difficult, we could get you on before the dance begins."
"Why is it difficult?"
"You ought to rehearse walking in among the dancers, not to halt them, or run into them. The other girl had a good deal of trouble with it."
"Suppose you wait until after I come off with the head to decide whether I make that later entrance."
"All right. Have you ever been in amateur performances before, Miss Judd?"
"Oh, yes, in school."
"I cannot begin to say how grateful I am to you for helping me out this way."
"Better thank me later."
They arrived at the club, and pushed their way into the bedlam behind scenes. It was packed with excited performers, waiting to be made up, or just finished. Jerry was hailed on all sides with questions and anxious protests. He found a chair for Jane.
"Keep your wrap on; it is draughty here. I'll be back in a minute."
"Everybody except those in the first three tableaux clear out. We can't have this confusion. Quickly, please," he shouted.
He directed them into other rooms, with clear directions as to what they were to do, where they were to stay, until called for. The women all tried to get a few words with him, but he kept them moving. One royal creature, whom he addressed as Mrs. Brendon, appeared, swathed in sable. She spoke to him, caressingly, as a privileged intimate.
"You're wonderful," he said to her.
"Did you get a Salome?"
"Yes."
"Professional?"
"No, sub-amateur."
"But, Jerry, in that important part——"
"Don't worry. She can do it."
"Has Althea Morton come yet?"
"I haven't seen her. Here she comes now."
A fair, lovely woman made her way toward them through the crowd. She was Naomi.
"I was just asking Jerry about you," the older woman said.
"My! but you are magnificent, Herodias," she exclaimed.
"Isn't she?" Jerry echoed.
"You are really perfect, Althea. Isn't she lovely, Jerry?" Mrs. Brendon responded.
Althea looked into Jerry's eyes, and blushed.
"Will I do?" she asked him.
"You are very beautiful!" he answered feelingly.
Jane heard it all, remembered their names. She suspected that Jerry's admission made the whole evening a success for Althea Morton. It interested Jane, and amused her a little, to see his power over women.
"Whom did you get for Salome?" Althea asked him.
"Oh, I want you to meet her. She looks great."
He turned to find Jane almost beside them. He had not realized how near to them she sat.
"Here you are! Mrs. Brendon, this is Miss Jane Judd. Miss Morton, Miss Judd. If Miss Judd had not come to our rescue I do not know what we would have done."
The women bowed to each other, and Mrs. Brendon frankly inspected Jane.
"Very good of you, I'm sure. You look charming."
"Thank you."
"What dance do you do?" Miss Morton inquired.
"Mr. Paxton has cut the dance."
"How could he? Why, that was the only thing to the part."
"Unfortunately, I do not dance."
"Oh, everybody dances now. You could have faked it. Do you hear that, Mrs. Brendon, she isn't going to do any dance," Miss Morton said, turning away to talk to Mrs. Brendon.
Jane felt, what they intended her to feel, that she was not of them, however kind she had been in coming to the rescue. Jerry came up to them again.
"I must carry Miss Judd off to look at the stage," he said, leading Jane away.
"Doesn't Jerry look like a god?" said Mrs. Brendon, watching him. Althea nodded.
"Are you frightened, Miss Judd?" Jerry asked.
"No."
Jane looked through the curtains at the great hall beyond and exclaimed with pleasure.
"Like it?"
"It's splendid."
"You can gauge the length of your walk. The music will follow you, until you're off."
"I understand."
The music began at that moment, and Jerry hurried away. Herod and his Queen descended to their thrones, amid great applause. The first two tableaux formed, appeared, descended. Jerry was everywhere. He came up beside Jane.
"I go next, then you come. There is the head. The platter is not heavy at all. Go out below the throne, nearest audience."
"All right."
His music sounded, so he sprang into his picture. He was greeted with prolonged applause. Jane caught her breath in short gasps, while she waited for her cue. The violin began a slow, sensuous strain. The stage manager came to her, with her props.
"Now, Miss Salome," he said.
She picked up the head.
"Here, this goes, too."
"No, I can't use that. I want just the head," she answered, and stepped into the oval, the gory head held high above her in both hands. She stood a second, while the applause burst, then she slowly turned to them, held the grisly head against her breast, and slunk down the stairs, panther-like, her hand caressing the dead face.
She was unaware of the audience until she reached the lowest step, then she swept them once in a swift insolent glance, held high the head, laughed, ran to the throne, saluted the King and Queen, then pressing her lips to the dead lips, she ran off.
The applause was deafening, continuous. In the wings they tried to get her to go out and bow, but she refused. The sound grew more imperious, but she was firm. Mr. Paxton had not told her to take any encores. The applause intended for her nearly spoiled the Naomi tableau, a fact which Miss Morton did not forgive. The show went on.
Jane sat back with a sigh. Presently she saw Jerry come into the ante-room to look for her. He hurried over, when he spied her, and seized her hands.
"You played a nice trick on me! You were the best yet. Why didn't you come out and take your curtain?"
"You didn't tell me to."
"Oh, Jane, Jane, you bluffer!"
"May I go home now, or do you want me later?"
"I