TENTH CHAPTER
PAULA SEES SELMA CROSS IN TRAGEDY, AND IN HER OWN APARTMENT NEXT MORNING IS GIVEN A REALITY TO PLAY
Selma Cross did not reach New York until the morning of the opening day at the Herriot Theatre. She was very tired from rehearsals and the try-outs along the string of second cities. There had been a big difference of opinion regarding The Thing, among what New Yorkers are pleased to call the provincial critics. From the character of the first notices, on the contrary, it was apparent that the townsmen were not a little afraid to trust such a startling play to New York. Mid-forenoon of an early April day, the actress rapped upon Paula's door.
"I have seen the boards," Paula exclaimed. "'Selma Cross' in letters big as you are; and yesterday afternoon they were hanging the electric sign in front of the Herriot. Also I shall be there to-night—since I was wise enough to secure a ticket ten days ago. Isn't it glorious?"
"Yes, I am quite happy about it," Selma Cross said, stretching out upon the lounge. "Of course, it's not over until we see the morning papers. I was never afraid—even of the vitriol-throwers, before. You see, I have to think about success for Stephen Cabot, too."
"Is he well?" Paula asked hastily.
"Oh yes, though I think sometimes he's a martyr. Oh, I have so much to say——"
"You said you would tell me some time how Vhruebert first decided to take you on," Paula urged.
"Before I got to the gate where the star-stuff passes through?" Selma Cross answered laughingly. "That was four years ago. I had been to him many times before he let me in. His chair squeaked under him. He looked at me first as if he were afraid I would spring at him. I told him what I could do, and he kept repeating that he didn't know it and New York didn't know it. I said I would show New York, but unfortunately I had to show him first. He screwed up his face and stared at me, as if I were startlingly original in my ugliness. I know he could hear my heart beat.