Her visitor stopped playing. Smiling, she explained:
"I shoved over that thing marked 'swell.' I sure will have to speak to Jerry about this. I'm stuck on this 'swell' thing. Hurry up!" Noticing Laura's white, anxious-looking face, she exclaimed sympathetically: "Gee! you look pale! I'll just bet you and Will had a fight. He always gets the best of you, doesn't he, dearie? Listen. Don't you think you can ever get him trained? I almost threw Jerry down the stairs the other night, and he came right back with a lot of American beauties and a cheque. I told him if he didn't look out, I'd throw him downstairs every night. He's getting too d——d independent, and it's got me nervous." Sinking into a seat, she exclaimed, with a sigh: "Oh, dear, I s'pose I will have to go back on the stage."
"In the chorus?" inquired Laura quietly.
Elfie looked up in mock indignation.
"Well, I should say not. I'm going to give up my musical career. Charlie Burgess is putting on a new play, and he says he has a part in it for me if I want to go back. It isn't much, but very important—sort of a pantomime part. A lot of people talk about me and just at the right moment I walk across the stage and make an awful hit. I told Jerry that if I went on he'd have to come across with one of those Irish crochet lace gowns. He fell for it. Do you know, dearie, I think he'd sell out his business just to have me back on the stage for a couple of weeks, just to give box parties every night for my entrance and exits."
Laura went over to the sofa, picked up the candy box, placed it on the desk, and took the telegram from the table. Then, taking her friend by the hand, she led her over to the sofa.
"Elfie," she said seriously.
"Yes, dear."
"Come over here and sit down."
"What's up?"