“Yes, but you mustn’t expect player folk to appreciate anything but the transitory in art,” said John Courtney. “It is the tragedy of the profession that the art of every one of us dies with us. The tones of Gloria’s marvellous speaking voice will not be heard by our descendants. Booth is nothing but a memory in spite of his statue out there in the park. It is the life of a butterfly.”
Courtney had used his deepest emotional voice in speaking, and despite custom and knowledge of his many harmless affectations, Billie Irwin shuddered and looked pained.
“Butterflies are very beautiful at least,” said Terry, reflecting in his face the concern that Ruth also felt as she noted that Gloria was still looking quite pale, with a strained expression in her eyes as if she were seeing things far removed from the breakfast room. She determined to again ask her aunt if it would not be better to give up the private view, as soon as she had an opportunity to speak with her alone.
The opportunity did not come until late that afternoon, and then Gloria shrugged her shoulders in a careless manner and laughed at Ruth.
“Certainly not, foolish child. He doesn’t know that you live with me. I doubt if he even knows that I am alive. I’ve been off the stage so long and besides he never goes to the theatre. This art thing must be a new fad with him. Still he must have noticed the name. Even Percy can scarcely have forgotten my last name. Only don’t tell him about me. Don’t let him know that you are a relative, and don’t let him come to the house.”
“The others are coming—Dorothy and Nels. I’m going to lend Dorothy a gown.”
“Do they know anything about me?” asked Gloria.
“No; you see I’ve been afraid to tell them just how happily I am situated. They are all so poor and I’ve been afraid that they’d not take me seriously if I told them that I have never been hungry or afraid of a landlord or any of the interesting things that seem to be common in their lives. They rather look down on the students that have an allowance from home, so I’ve never told them anything about myself. Probably I shan’t meet Mr. Pendragon at all. If he had wanted to meet me he would have come with Nels instead of sending the admission card, don’t you think so?”
“Perhaps,” said Gloria.
Then curiosity overcoming delicacy, Ruth asked her the question that had been in her mind all day.