“You’re insulting,” said Sophie, drying her eyes.
Miriam left the room in disgust.
Another number was on. Carrie, her fingers fan-shaped over her heart, was singing “Mother Macree” in a soft voice, high and clear. The strange tonal quality was like that of a contralto.
Drewena was accompanying her. And along the rows of gossips there was now complete silence. Miriam noticed that both Beulah and Docky were holding handkerchiefs to their eyes, and when the last words—“God keep you and bless you, Mother Macree” trailed off, Miriam watched a solid, tremulous emotion sweep the crowd. Only Kate, openly defiant to any sentiment, poured a drink down her throat and looked at the others with disdain.
This time, as they danced, Miriam sneaked the footman in through the back, and hoisted him to the long beam, one end of which lay in shadow. Once more, she whispered instructions to her assistant, then went for Tai. The music ceased and she could hear Drewena quieting the crowd.
Then Miriam entered the room. She did not walk with the air of one experienced in drag, but her stalking, feline movements seemed even more proper. Several paces behind her came Tai, a rope over one tiny shoulder, his eyes lowered. He still wore the golden tunic and it gleamed against his little body as he held out the rope to Miriam. She took it, coiling it sailor-fashion on the floor, then hurled one end to the ceiling where it held, in a rim of shadow. Immediately Tai grabbed it and climbed upward to the beam, apparently on a rope which was in no way supported. Only the magician could see the tensed form of the footman holding the slight weight of the child. Then Tai disappeared. Miriam lifted her arms and the rope fell in waves over her shoulders. She dropped it, turned to the crowd and solemnly picked up her train. Tai, smiling and bowing, ran forth from its folds, and held out his arms to Drewena.
The crowd was charmed; but Drewena, furious, caught up the child and hurrying with him through the corridor, took him into his own room and laid him upon his own bed.
For a moment her hot cheek rested against the child who petted her, saying nothing. Then she swept into the powder room where she knew she would find Miriam. Still furious, she faced her friend.
“Miriam,” she cried, “that was a coarse trick.” Her eyes were narrowed and a drop of blood was welling out of the corner of her lip where she had bitten herself. “What made you do it?”
Miriam inhaled the smoke of her cigarette.