Bambi (Cooke)/Chapter 26
XXVI
BAMBI hurried to catch the 5:30 train for home, and as it rushed through the station she spied Jarvis striding on ahead, evidently bound for the same train. With the caution of a lady detective she kept behind him until he got aboard. Then she rushed ahead and got into the first car. At Sunnyside she astonished the town hack-man by leaping into his cab and ordering him to drive her home, top speed.
The situation appealed to her taste for intrigue. Into the house she sped and to her room. The Professor and Ardelia were in bed and asleep. When Jarvis came in she descended, to inquire about the fate of their play, with the calm of a finished actress.
“I’m waiting for you! What news?” she demanded.
“He likes it. If the author is satisfied, we go ahead at once.”
“Hooray!” shouted Bambi, pirouetting madly. “Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis Jocelyn, the talk of the town,” she sang.
“You did want your name on the bills, then?”
She stopped in alarm. Had she given it away after all her trouble?
“How do you mean on the bills?”
“As co-author? Mr. Frohman asked me. I told him you had never spoken of it, but that I wanted you to have full credit.”
“What else did you tell Mr. Frohman about me?”
“I told him you were clever.”
“What did he say?” she laughed.
“Said he didn’t doubt it. He will allow you to come to rehearsals.”
“I should hope so! So it’s all settled?”
“Yes, if the author consents. She was to see the play at three this afternoon.”
“Was she? Why didn’t you wait and see her?”
“She wished to talk to Mr. Frohman alone.”
“Isn’t she tiresome, with all her mystery? You don’t think she could hold us up on it now, at the last minute, do you?”
“She could, but I don’t think she will. Rehearsals will be called next week.”
“Oh, goody! Jarvis, aren’t you happy about it?”
“Yes.”
“But you aren’t happy enough!”
He sighed. It was all so different from the way he had planned to bring her his first success.
“Something seems to have gone amiss with us, doesn’t it, Bambi?”
“I haven’t noticed it.”
“You’re satisfied to go on as we are now?”
“I can think of a few improvements. I’ll tell you about them later.”
“So many things seem to hinge on the success of this play!”
“They do! May the gods take notice,” she laughed.
On the following Tuesday came the call for a reading of the play with the company, Wednesday, at eleven. Bambi was as excited as a child over the announcement.
“I think we had better plan to stay at the National Arts Club again, during rehearsals, Jarvis.”
“I am not sure I can finance that. I told Mr. Frohman I did not need an advance.”
“I’ve got some left. You can borrow back the hundred you paid me, to start off on.”
“You’re like the old woman with the magic purse.”
“I’m thrifty and saving.”
“Well, if we can accomplish it without robbing you I agree with you that it would be better to stay in town.”
“Settled. You go pack your things, and I’ll look after mine.”
They prepared to make their second pilgrimage, this time to the “Land of Promise.”
The Professor showed an unusual amount of interest in the matter.
“How long will it take to rehearse it?” he asked.
“We don’t know yet, we’re such amateurs. But as soon as we know the date set for the opening you and Ardelia are to prepare to come. You can come up the day of the performance, and if you can’t stand it, you may come home the next day.”
“A trip to New York? What an upsetting idea!”
“Would you rather stay here, and miss the first play Jarvis and I ever did together?” said Bambi, disappointedly.
“No, certainly not. I’ll come. Just make a note of it, and put it in a conspicuous place,” he added.
“We’ll keep you reminded, never fear.”
Ardelia gasped when she heard she was to go.
“I’ll send you a list of the clothes to bring for the Professor in plenty of time. I shall give you a new black silk dress for the occasion.”
“Lawd a’ massy, Miss Bambi! I'se so excited I cain’t talk. A noo silk dress an’ a-goin’ to Noo Yawk wid de Perfessor. I decla’ dey ain’t no niggah woman in dis heah town got sech quality to work fo’ as dis old niggah has.”
“Why, Ardelia, we couldn’t have it without you.”
“Am I gwine sit wid de’ white folks in de’ theatre, or up in niggah heaven?”
“You’ll sit in a box with the rest of us.”
“Gawd-a'mighty, honey, dis gwine to be de happies’ ‘casion ob my life.”
The co-authors took the night train.
“Not quite a year ago since our first journey together,” said Bambi.
“That’s so. It seems a century, doesn’t it?”
“That is a distinctly husband remark.”
“I was only thinking of how much had happened in that time.”
“Two new beings have happened—a new you and a new me,” she answered him.
“Are you as changed as I am?” he asked.
“Yes. You haven’t noticed me enough to realize it, I suppose.”
He made no reply to that. Arrived in New York, they went to the clubhouse, and took the same rooms they had before. As Bambi looked about the room, she turned to Jarvis in the doorway:
“It is a century since I knelt at that window and arranged our spectacular success.”
“Well, we’re a year nearer to it. Let’s get a good night’s rest, for to-morrow we enter on a new chapter.”
“It’s jolly we enter it together, isn’t it, Jarvis?”
He nodded, embarrassed.
“I should like to wish you luck in the new venture, Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn.”
“I wish you the same, Miss Mite,” he said, clasping her hand warmly.
“You haven’t called me Miss Mite for a long time,” she said, softly. “I like it.”
“Good-night,” said Jarvis abruptly, and left.
“You’re a poor actor, my Jarvis,” she chuckled to herself.
At eleven o’clock they presented themselves at the theatre. The reading was to take place in Mr. Frohman’s big room. Jarvis and Bambi were admitted at once.
“Good-morning,” said Mr. Frohman.
“Good-morning. This is Mrs. Jocelyn, Mr. Frohman.”
Bambi offered her hand to the manager with a solemn face, but the laugh twinkled in her eyes.
“How do you do, Mrs. Jocelyn? I understand that you had a great deal to do with this play?”
“I did,” she admitted. “Without me this play would have been nothing.”
“This leaves you no ground to stand on, Mr. Jocelyn,” he laughed.
The members of the company arrived and were presented to the authors. Bambi kept them all laughing until Mr. Frohman called order. They sat in state around the big table.
“I propose that Mrs. Jocelyn read us the play,” Mr. Frohman said.
“Oh, shall I? It is really Jarvis—”
“If you please,” said Mr. Frohman, indicating a chair.
So Bambi began, with a smile at Jarvis, and another at the audience. They all felt in a good humour. The play was so peculiarly hers, the intimate quality which had made the book “go” had been wonderfully retained, so that spontaneous laughter marked her progress through the comedy. It was all so true and universal, the characters so well drawn, the denouement so happy! At the climax of the third act the company broke into irresistible and unpremeditated applause.
“Oh, God bless you for that!” said Bambi, her eyes wet with gratitude.
“We ought to cast you for the girl. You are enough like her to have sat for the portrait,” said Mr. Frohman, wickedly.
Jarvis turned to look at Bambi in his earnest way. He marked the likeness, again, himself.
“I shall play it just as you read it, Mrs. Jocelyn,” said the girl who was cast for the lead.
“You will greatly improve on my Francesca, I’m sure,” Bambi nodded to her.
Parts were distributed, much discussion followed as to character drawing and business, then they separated to meet for rehearsal the next day at 10:30. Mr. Frohman had an immediate appointment, so the Jocelyns had no opportunity for a word in private.
“Queer that Mr. Frohman should think that you are like Francesca, too,” said Jarvis, on their way to the club.
“Oh, I don’t know. We are the same type. That’s all.”
“You could play the part wonderfully.”
“Could I? It would be fun! Still, I think we can make more money and have more fun writing plays.”
She seemed always to be harping on their future together!
The next day was full of surprises for them both. They were entirely ignorant of conditions in and about the theatre. The big, dark house, with its seats all swathed in linen covers, the empty, barn-like stage, with chairs set about to indicate properties; the stage hands coming and going, the stage manager shouting directions—it was all new to them. The members of the company were as businesslike as bank clerks. No hint of illusion, no scrap of romance!
“Mercy! it’s like a ghost house,” said Bambi.
A deal table was set at one side, down stage, for the Jocelyns, with two scripts of the play. They sat down like frightened school children, bewildered as to what would be expected of them.
The actors sat in a row of chairs at one side. The stage manager made some explanations and remarks about rehearsals, and then the first act was called. It was slow and tedious work. Over and over again the scenes were tried. Some of the actors fumbled their lines as if they had never read English before. Now and then the manager appealed to the authors for the reading of a line, or an intonation, and Bambi always answered. At the end of one scene the man who was to play the young musician came to them.
“I’ve been thinking over my part, Mrs. Jocelyn, and I think that if you could write in a scene right here, in act first, to let me explain to the old fiddler my reason for being in this situation—”
“Oh, no, you mustn’t explain. The whole point of the first act is that you explain nothing.”
“Yes, but it would play better,” he began, in the patronizing tone always used to newcomers in the theatre.
“I can’t help that. I cannot spoil the truth of a whole character, even if it does play better,” said Bambi, smiling sweetly.
The actor took it up with the stage manager after rehearsal, and was referred to the authors.
“These new playwrights always have to learn at our expense,” he said, importantly.
“Can’t be helped. We have to use playwrights, however irritating they are,” remarked the stage manager.
Day after day they assembled at the same hour and slowly built up the structure of the play. Many nights Jarvis and Bambi worked on new scenes, or the rearrangement of the old ones. The first act was twisted about many times before it “played” to the stage manager’s satisfaction. New lines had to be introduced, new business worked out every day. It was hard work for everybody except Bambi, and she declared it was fun. No matter how trying the rehearsals, nor how hard she had to work, she enjoyed every minute of it. They soon discovered that Jarvis had no talent for rehearsing. In fact, the mechanics of the thing bored him. When a new scene was demanded quickly, his mind refused to work. It was Bambi’s quick wits that saved the day. After the first few days she was the only one to be consulted and appealed to by everybody.
“I can’t see that you need me at all in this business. I’m no good at it.”
“Yes, you are, too. You saw where that new scene in the third act belonged at once.”
“Yes, after you wrote the scene.”
“But this is why we need each other. I didn’t see where the scene belonged at all. If we both could do the same thing, we wouldn’t need to collaborate. Thank heaven, we don’t have the author underfoot interfering all the time.”
“I don’t believe she would interfere.”
“Heard anything from her, lately?”
“No, she is waiting for the production, I suppose.”
“And then the deluge! I may lose you to that story-writing female yet!” she teased him.
“Don’t!” he protested, quickly.
“I won’t,” she retorted, meaningly.
In late March the date of the production was set. It gave Bambi unbelievable pleasure to read the announcements on the billboards, and to stand in front of the three-sheets in the foyer of the theatre.
She wrote Ardelia full directions in regard to packing the Professor’s dress clothes; she told her the train they were to take; she worked out every detail, so that nothing might be left to the sieve-like memories of the principals on this foreign journey.
She ordered a new frock for herself, and succeeded in getting Jarvis measured for new dress clothes. Then she threw herself, heart and soul, into the last few days of work at the theatre, helping to polish and strengthen the play. The night of dress rehearsal came, and with it a new development for her consideration and management.