“Mansfield’s dead,” said Jane.
“Honestly?”
“Honest he is. Why don’t you get some of these moveing picture actors? They never have a chance in the Movies, only acting and not talking.”
Well, that sounded logicle. And then I read her the place where the cruel first husband comes back and finds her married again and happy, and takes the Children out to drown them, only he can’t because they can swim, and they pull him in instead. The curtain goes down on nothing but a few bubbles rising to mark his watery Grave.
Jane was crying.
“It is too touching for words, Bab!” she said. “It has broken my heart. I can just close my eyes and see the Theater dark, and the stage almost dark, and just those bubbles coming up and breaking. Would you have to have a tank?”
“I darsay,” I replied dreamily. “Let the other people worry about that. I can only give them the material, and hope that they have intellagence enough to grasp it.”
I think Sis must have told Carter Brooks something about the trouble I was in, for he brought me a box of Candy one afternoon, and winked at me when mother was not looking.
“Don’t open it here,” he whispered.
So I was forced to controll my impatience, though passionately fond of Candy. And when I got to my room later, the box was full of cigarettes. I could have screamed. It just gave me one more thing to hide, as if a man’s suit and shirt and so on was not suficient.