CHAPTER XXI
At first fame was good to have, there was no mistaking it. For Thurley achieved delightful freedom by the magic of her success. She began to do all she had planned during her novice period, to try this or that sort of costume, to give “affairs,” if you please; she cultivated a hobby and a “phobia” and acquired a smart wire-haired terrier called “Taffy” whose picture was featured in all the leading newspapers and musical journals.
It did not take her long to readjust herself to this new life. Older, tired persons who had played godmother and godfather to her during her apprenticeship watched her in amusement. Not that Thurley ceased to apply herself to work; she was untiring in her efforts, for she felt she would never want to stop learning new and more difficult things. Nor did she stop knowing any one save those who could be of use to her. Instead there was exhibited a refreshing democracy of spirit which governed her likes and dislikes.
Bliss told Caleb, “She’s a pleasant little Trojan and one can see at a glance, save for amusing whims, she is as reliable as a grandfather’s clock.” And he told Thurley, who hovered about hoping for some personal understanding or praise,
“Just be sincere and everything else trues up—and don’t grow plump like Lissa, because banting is an awful bugbear.”
At which Thurley tossed her newly laurel-crowned head and determined to try artifice to make him pay her attention. After all, these fads and fashions were merely antidotes to make her forget the thing she craved foremost—Bliss Hobart’s real friendship. So she ordered lavishly of whatsoever she chose, moving without delay into an apartment, with Miss Clergy tottering contentedly after. It was a personal triumph for Miss Clergy; with Thurley it was only the natural result of having been born a singer.
“I have my own ideas for my apartment,” she told Ernestine with patronage, even waving aside Lissa’s suggestions for a “love of a boudoir—just the place for proposals” and returning Mark’s offering of a gilt mirror because it did not harmonize with her color scheme!
“Let her play away, she’ll tire of it,” Sam Sparling said indulgently, when Polly dropped in at the theater to recount Thurley’s latest exploit, the purchase of antique Egyptian jewelry which she was to wear in “Aïda.”
“Have you seen her apartments?” asked Polly. “Not like Thurley at all. I associate her with real mahogany and open fireplaces—rose-garden things.”