When college opened again Madeline was still on Miss Dwight’s trail, but almost ready to give up and let the Lyric manager, or anybody else who wanted it, take her play. Miss Dwight’s manager had made no sign. Miss Dwight herself, piqued by her first failure, had entrenched herself behind unassailable barriers.
“I’ve tried everything,” wrote Madeline despairingly. “I got ‘The Sentinel’ to send me to interview her, and she wouldn’t let me in. The Enderbys gave a dinner for her; she accepted and then sent word she was ill. Dick Blake relented and tried to introduce the subject of his talented young friend, and she would hear none of me.
“To-night I’m playing my last card. If it doesn’t take the trick, why, I’ve lost, that’s all. Rumor says that her manager has had six hundred plays sent him this last week—of course he won’t find mine under that pile.”
JUST AS THEY HAD GIVEN HER UP
For two weeks thereafter the pen of the aspiring playwright was silent. Betty and Mary Brooks decided that she was busy getting her play out from under the pile of other manuscripts, in order to send it to the despised manager of the Lyric. So they were surprised and delighted when Betty received a rapturous, incoherent scrawl, announcing complete success.
“She took it. She’s rehearsing it now. The part does fit her, just as I said it would. She’s coming up with me soon to see Harding.
“With love from the happiest girl in New York,
Mad.
“P. S.—Plan a B. C. A. tea-party for to-morrow. I can’t wait any longer to tell you all about it.”