“Yes. You are Miss Farnham.” Constance made reply in an enigmatic tone.
A threatening sparkle leaped to the other’s eyes. She was beginning to resent Constance’s quiet attitude. “If you knew who I was, why didn’t you speak to me at the first rehearsal?” she sharply launched.
“I merely knew you by sight. There are many girls in Sanford High whom I do not know personally.”
“But I’m different,” pursued Rowena. “My father is very rich and I can have whatever I like. You must know that. You ought to associate with girls of your own class. Your aunt has lots of money and can give you social position. That Geraldine Macy is the only rich girl you ever go with. All the others are just middle class. You’re foolish to waste your time on Marjorie——”
Constance had received Rowena’s first words with secret amusement. As she continued to listen her inward smile changed to outward, rather. At mention of Marjorie her self-imposed placidity flew to the winds. “Kindly leave my dressing room,” she ordered, her voice shaking with indignation. “Marjorie Dean is my dearest friend. No one can belittle her to me. Least of all, you.” Constance had slowly risen, her blue eyes dark with the injury to one she loved.
“I thought that would bring you to life,” laughed Rowena, making no move to rise. As she sat there, the light playing on her ruddy hair, her black eyes agleam with tantalizing mirth, Constance could not but wonder at her tigerish beauty. To quote Muriel, she did resemble “a big, striped tiger.”
Without answering, Constance moved to the door and opened it. She was about to step into the corridor when Rowena sprang forward and clutched her by the arm. “You milk-and-water baby, do you think——” She did not finish. As Constance stepped over the threshold she came almost into collision with Lawrence Armitage. His keen glance immediately took in the situation. He saw Rowena’s arm drop to her side. Brushing past Constance like a whirlwind, she gained the shelter of Mignon’s dressing room and disappeared.
“Hurry. You’ll miss your cue. I didn’t see you in the wings and came to warn you. Run along. I’ll see you later,” uttered Laurie rapidly. His words sent Constance moving rapidly toward the stairway. His lips tightened as he watched her disappear. For a moment he stood still, then, turning, took the same direction.
“Just a moment, Miss La Salle.” Seeking the stairway at the close of the second act, Mignon was halted by a troubled young man. “I don’t wish to be disagreeable, but—Miss Farnham must either remain in your dressing room during the third act or go out in the audience. I am not blaming you. You’ve sung your part splendidly to-night and I appreciate your effort. Will you help me in this? We don’t wish anything to occur to spoil the rest of the operetta. I am sure you understand.” Appeal looked out from his deeply blue eyes.
“Of course I’ll help you.” Mignon experienced a sudden thrill of triumph. Lawrence Armitage was actually asking her to do him a favor. Valiance rose within her. She quite forgot her dread of Rowena’s bluster. Flashing him her most fascinating smile, she held out her hand in token of good faith. Inwardly she was hoping that Constance might happen along to witness the tableau. Laurie clasped it lightly. He was not in the least impressed. “Thank you.” He wheeled abruptly and turned away.