Lady in Waiting

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 59, 10 March 1932, Page 22

Lady in Waiting

By EDGAR JEPSON.

CHAPTER XXVl.—(Continued.) Sarah broke in on his frowning consideration. She said, with a delightful smile: "Mr. Bromby had better come and see you about it." Mr. Burbage coughed unhappily; he said sadly, '"I suppose he*had." He did not like Mr. Bromby; those Napoleonic men were hard to cope with; they browbeat. "But, mind you, this great opportunity we're giving you will have to be taken into account." "I'll tell him it's got to be," said Sarah, smiling again. He was relieved; he would not get her for nothing, but he would get her cheap. A few corrugations smoothed themselves out. As they left the office he beamed on her faintly, and said, "I feel sure you'll make good, and I'm really proud to have discovered you." She was lunching at the Canteen, for she no longer brought sandwiches, and Chudleigh was lunching with her coldly, when Bunty came eagerly to her. He frowned slightly at the sight of Chudleigh, and Chudleigh frowned deeply at the sight of him. "Have you seen Burbage?" he said to Sarah. "Yes, I've seen Mr. Burbage, and lies going to talk to Mr. Bromby." ' "Oh, Brombv," he said, and his face fell. So he too had thought to get her for nothing. She bore him no ill will for it; but still—a man who was so fond of her. He lunched also, and they talked. He kept looking at Chudleigh as if he found his presence otiose. But on the whole he was rather relieved. He had come to talk about their portable South Sea island. Perhaps that talk had better be deferred till the contract was signed. He felt that Sarah would prefer it. After lunch he sought out Burbage. "Look her," he said. "Don't you go and lose Sarah Warren for a matter of ten or twenty pounds. I tell you, she's a bonanza. Besides, if you don't engage her for me, Bardsley will gully you into engaging her for him, and he'll collar every scrap of the credit for discovering her. You know what he is." "I shan't lose her. But, all the same, what's the money to her, getting the chance of a lifetime like this? She ought to do it for nothing," said Mr. Burbage in the accents of a discontent. "If you think a society woman is going to do anything for nothing, you don't know a thing about society." "I know all I want to, and quite as much as most people," said Mr. Burbage coldly. Mr. Bromby came; the battle joined. Mr. Burbage found him easier to deal with than he had expected, for not only had Sarah instructed Mr. Bromby on no account to lose her great opportunity, but he saw himself arranging, in ' the future, very much larger contracts, once she had definitely been a star. In the end Mr. Burbage agreed .to pay Sarah one hundred pounds for her services in Bunty's next picture, and Mr. Bromby came away with the contract and the cheque. When Sarah received his cheque for ninety-two pounds next morning, she opened an account at the nearest branch of Barclay's Bank. There remained Bunty. He came to her, smiling, as she was lunching, an icy Chudleigh beside her, at the Canteen. "Burbage has jurt told me that he has signed your contract and everything is all right," he said in a tone of warm satisfaction. "What contract?" said Chudleigh sharply. "Miss Warren is going to be the star in my next picture." "The devil she is!" "Yes, the contract is signed, but it isn't much of a salary for all the work I shall have to dc," said Sarah. She did not desire that Bunty should feel too great a benefactor. His face fell a little. "Of course you've been done in the eye,'' said Chudleigh, morosely but with conviction, jeopardising his employment at the studios. "But the opportunity you're getting. Miss Warren. Don't forge* that," said Bunty. "No girl who has been on the films as short a time as you have, ever got such a chance!" "Oh, well, the contract's signed. It's no use talking about it," said Sarah. Chudleigh rose and carried his and Sarah's empty plates, sternly, back to the Canteen, and stalked gloomily away down the studio. "And now, what about our little honeymoon next Saturday, Sarah darling?" said Bunty eagerly, but with a languishing air. Sarah stared at him in frowning perplexity. "Next Saturday? But how can we be married in a week? I thought it took at least three to get the .bums put up, you know." Bunty gasped: "Married? Married? But I'm married already!" he blurted out. "You're married? B-b-ut how c-c-can we have a honeymoon if you're married ?" stammered Sarah with an admirable display of utter surprise. "I thought you know I was married! Everybody knows I'm married! But what's being married got to do with it? We're artists—artists! We're above all those old-fashioned conventions!"

"Oh, but other people aren't. What do you think my mother would say if I didn't get properly married? Why—why —she'd be horrified! And—and—l thought you were wanting to be my first husband." He thought that she was about to burst into tears—she looked as if she were. And in that frequented spot. His panic was groundless. "Your f-f-first husband?" he said in quavering accents. "Well, film stars have lots of husbands, don't they?" Not even permanence in the bungalow! He looked at her more earnestly. She was upset—overwhelmed by the shattering of her dream! This was no time to expect her to see reason. Besides he needed time to think himself, to find a way—a way—a way out! Sarah was casting out love. He turned round sharply; he shouted: "Right! I'm coming!" He fled, unsummoned back to the picture. Sarah looked after his briskly moving figure with an air of relief, but with unsmiling eyes; she thought that she would hear no more .about that honeymoon for quite a long while. And she was not troubled about their future relations, for she was sure that, for all his airs, Bunty was quite good-natured; he would not use his position as producer to make things unpleasant for her; he would

A Story of the SILVER SCREEN

only be thinking of making the picture as good as ho could get it, to increase Ms reputation. Then it flashed on her that after all she was the person with the grievance. He had, or rather he was supposing that he had led her to believe that he was going to marry her, and then let her down. The smile that has become famous wreathed her lips. No; she should have no trouble with Bunty. CHAPTER XVII. Discussion. "The Trial of Faith'' wore slowly through, and Sarah grew better and better, for she never tired of working on her simple part. Every day, even when she was not actually acting, she was at the studios performing her function of a society expert. Bardsley Minchin would have her by his side. It was tiresome; often during a whole day no point for expert opinion arose. But she did not complain. When it became known that she had been promoted to stardom no one in the studios grudged her her good fortune. Bardsley Minchin alone went up into the air; he had been robbed, shamefully, of a star he had discovered! He did not reproach Sarah, though lie was mad with her, but he fell upon Bunty at the canteen, heavily. With a savage air he said liercely and loudly for all to hear: "This is a dirty trick you've played me, sneaking Miss Warren for your new picture, when I'd discovered her! Another beer, please miss." "You never did discover her! I did!" snapped Bunty, ready for the fray, for he knew, as he often declared, what Bardsley was. "You did. did you? Who gave her her first part? Eh? Who gave her her first part? Tell me that!" "You only gave it her because she wouldn't act as society expert without it. You know you did. But directly I saw her at work, I saw she was a born artist—directly. I did—and if you'd had the flair, you'd have seen it too." "I did see it!" "Then why didn't you say so?" "I was going to." "But what could you do about it? You've got Winnie. You're struck with her. You couldn't make Miss Warren your star if you wanted to. The company isn't going to let Winnie go. You're just being a dog in the manger. You can't do anything for her yourself, and you're grousing because I can." "No: I'm not! I'm saying that I ought to have been consulted in tho matter. I discovered her, and I trained her, and without a word to mc you step in and sneak her!'' "I tell you I discovered her!" "You did not! I gave her her first part." "I tell you, you didn't! You were forced to give it to her. Why, you groused about her inexperience!" "That was before I saw her at her work. As soon as I saw her afc work, I saw she was a born artist. I've just as much flair as you have, and more!" "Then why did you keep it to yourself?" "I. don't go about bragging all over tho place, like some people. No; it was not the act of a gentleman. And you know it!" "I don't know anything of the kind!" "No. If you were a gentleman, you would!" Bunty emptied his glass with an air of cold scorn, and walked off. "Try to behave like a gentleman, another time!" shouted Bardsley. "Another beer, please miss." He drank it with a victorious air, and relaxing, said to the miss: "I think I told him oIY properly. Jt docs that kind of fellow good to hear what a gentleman thinks of him." As Sarah had thought likely, Bunty held aloof from her. He greeted her civilly enough when he chanced on her, but he did not chance on her more often than he could help. She was careful to look at him with reproachful eyes when they did meet, and his love was in eclipse.

She saw, therefore, no more of the gilded halls, and she was free to spend all her evenings with Lord Lcigham and Sir James.

Their relations remained, on the face of tilings, purely friendly, and without sentimental complications. She had become almost a necessary part of the two younff men's lives, and definitely one of their circle. There were at least four of their bright young friends, and not so young either, ready and eager to relieve them of the pleasure of entertaining her. Both Lord Leigham and Sir James had fallen into the way of confiding their simple troubles, troubles connected with the sport of kings, and their female, but aged, relations —Sir James was afflicted with a grandmother of character—and asking her advice, and even sometimes taking it. Naturally they consulted her about their evening and Sunday diversions. Also they were still at such a loss, when they left • her at Shepherds' Market at twelve, that they went to bed at half-past; her going left a gap there was no filling.

But a strange thing was happening; after seven years of the closest association, both of them were beginning to feel that the other was less necessary to his well-being than he had been. They fought against this feeling, but it grew stronger. On the other hand, both felt that Sarah had become necessary to that well-being, and both knew that the other was afflicted by that feeling. What was to be done ? Simple souls, neither was able to cope with so complex a situation* Both felt that the proper thing to do, was to toss for Sarah's sole company; neither liked to say so. Sir James was more of a man of the world; his devotion to the sport of kings cost him less; the gold-diggers, whom they had both abandoned, had dug less gold out of him. But Lord Leigham had the more profound nature. He was the first to speak. He said: "We can't go on like this." "Like what?" "About Sarah." Sir James looked gloomy. "You're keen on her and I'm keen on her." "I'm a great deal keener on her than you are." "You aren't." "I tell you I am!" "I don't want to argue about it," said Lord Leigham coldly. "What's to be done ?" Sir James looked gloomy, and they said nothing. They pondered. Then Sir James said: "Have you tried to kiss her again?"

"No. I tried it once, yon know, and she cried. She might cry again. I'm— I'm sensitive about that kind of thing. Have you?" "No. I knew she might cry and I'm sensitive, too." "Well, what is to be done?" They looked at one another, waiting for a brainwave. Nothing happened. "We might toss," said Sir James at last, but doubtfully. "What for, exactly?" "Who takes her round the village'!" "But if you won she might prefer to bustle round with me," said Lord Leigham quickly. They looked at one another, waiting for a brainwave. One came. "I tell you what —we'd better put it to Sarah," said Sir James. Lord Leigham sighed his relief. He said, "That's the thing to do." They tossed who should put it to her. Lord Leigham won. They lost no time. As soon as they had finished their supper at the Embassy that night Lord Leigham cleared his throat. Ho said, "We've been thinking, Sarah." "Have you?" said Sarah immediately. "Yes. We can't go on like this." "Like what?" "Both of us bustling round the village with you." "Why not?" "Well, I find James a bit in the way, and he finds me a bit in the way." Sarah said lazily, "Why?" "We both want you to ourselves." Sarah looked at them thoughtfully. She smiled upon them and said, "But I like going about with both of you." "That's just it. You seem to like one just as much as the other," said Lord Leigham gloomily. "Why shouldn't I?" They looked at one another and could find no reason why she should not. "Well, I suppose something's got to be done if you both feel like that. How would it be if I was to bustle round with each of you in turn?" Again they looked at one another and then at her; at a loss. Then Lord Leigham said: "What we really want is that you should choose one of us to go about with and drop the other—isn't it, Jaines?" "That's it."

She said: "But I haven't got any choice." They both sighed and looked at one another with hopeless eyes. "I like things as they are," said Sarah firmly. "But if you don't like taking me about together, the only thing that I can see is for you to try taking me about separately. All the same I call it silly, for we get much more fun the three' of us together than two of us together. We've so much more to talk about." "I suppose it will have to be that," said Lord'Leigham sadly. But when at twelve o'clock that night they turned away from her door, lie said to Sir James with conviction, "We ought to have tossed for her." (To bo continued daily.)