Maynard read no further. Thrusting the letter into his pocket he walked mechanically into the house, totally ignoring Mrs. Ward, who stood holding the door open with every intention of addressing him if opportunity offered.
CHAPTER XVI
IN THE LIMELIGHT
THE impatient crowd, regardless of the early hour, clamored for admittance before the closed doors of the Belasco Theatre. From his vantage point behind the ticket seller’s window, James Palmer smiled at friends and acquaintances as they pressed forward to buy tickets for the “Tableaux of the Allies,” or secure those already engaged. Not only would the Red Cross reap a rich harvest from the tableaux, but the amateur performance would be viewed by a representative Washington audience, judging from the presence of high Government officials, members of the Foreign Missions detailed to Washington, diplomats; and army and navy officers among the men and women who thronged the lobby of the theater.
Palmer watched the ticket seller’s deft manipulation of blue, red, and white pasteboards and his swift counting of change for a while longer, then hearing his name called he discovered Dr. Hayden waiting for him, and he promptly hurried through the private office into the lobby. Stopping to exchange a word of greeting with several friends just back from their summer outing, Palmer and Hayden entered the theater and made their way to Mrs. Burnham’s box. Mrs. Burnham, well gowned as always, and wearing the jewels for which she was famous, turned on their entrance and shook hands cordially, while Burnham offered his seat to Hayden with an ingratiating smile.
“Don’t talk shop, old man,” he said. “My wife has already expressed her opinion of my leaving my bed to come here, but——” His expression grew hard. “Evelyn persisted in taking part in the tableaux to-night, so we thought it, eh——” The playing of the “Star Spangled Banner” heralding the approach of the President and his wife, drowned his words, and rising, he and his guests and the whole house stood until the last bars of the anthem were played.
After reseating herself Mrs. Burnham unfolded her lorgnette and inspected first the audience and then her program.
“Upon my word, I had no idea so many of my friends were back,” she remarked, exchanging bows with the hostess in the next box. “It is a regular winter audience, and not such as you usually see in September. What’s the first tableau on the program?”
“The Navy,” answered Hayden, to whom the question was addressed. There was no further time for conversation as the lights went out and the curtains parted on the tableau, which elicited rounds of applause, and the Marine Band played the famous navy song: “Anchors Aweigh!”
There was some delay in the showing of the next tableau and Hayden, idly glancing over the program which Mrs. Burnham held so that both could read it, grew conscious that her eyes traveled more often to her husband, who was talking in fits and starts to Palmer, than to the printed words before her.
“What’s the idea of so many women in the tableaux and no men?” she questioned abruptly, breaking the silence, and Hayden marveled inwardly at the shrillness of her usually well modulated tone.