“Flora,” he declared, “you’re not happy!”
She laughed softly as if to ridicule such a suggestion, but immediately there was a delicate flush in her face. “Nonsense!” she said. “And somebody helpless in the house to worry about? One wouldn’t dance and sing under the circumstances. I’m trying to behave becomingly—that’s all.”
Baron disregarded this. “And as soon as I get up,” he said, “I’m going to see that certain nonsense is ended. He’s a dandy good fellow—that’s what he is. I can’t imagine what we’ve all been thinking about.”
“He—” Flora began properly enough, but the conventional falsehood she meant to utter failed to shape itself. She couldn’t return her brother’s glance. It occurred to her that the window-shade needed adjusting.
“I’m going to put a stop to certain nonsense,” Baron repeated. He rattled the newspapers with decision, covertly regarding his sister, who did not trust herself to speak again. She kept her eyes averted as she left the room.
Flora had opened all the papers so that the dramatic reviews came uppermost, and as Baron glanced from one to another he forgot Flora completely. By the time he had glanced at the fifth review of the production of “The Break of Day” he dropped the papers and drew a long breath. “Holy Smoke!” he exclaimed, and then he returned to his reading.
Baggot’s play had scored an almost unprecedented success. Several of the dramatic critics had written signed articles in which they expressed unbounded praise. And from his knowledge of newspaper writing, Baron knew that even the most hardened of theatregoers had been swept off their feet by the charm and novelty of the new play.
Baron gathered that a new actress had been added to the group of notable American artists as a result of the creation of the part of “The Sprite.” But when he sought from one account to another for the name of this player, he found only that the rôle of “The Sprite” had been played “By Herself.” He couldn’t find her name anywhere, or anything about her.
But after all, the identity of even a very successful player was not the thing Baron was thinking of most. He was delighted that Baggot had been successful. It seemed that Baggot had “arrived.”
His reflections were interrupted by his mother. She entered the room rather hurriedly. Baron realized that something must have happened, or she wouldn’t have come in like that, rubbing her eyes sleepily and wearing a loose wrapper.