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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Several persons were in the manager’s office, two lounging near a window, another talking to an individual sitting at a roll-top desk- the manager. Carrie glanced nervously about, and began to fear that she should have to make her appeal before the assembled company, two of whom-the occupants of the window-were already observing her carefully. "I can’t do it," the manager was saying; "it’s a rule of Mr. Frohman’s never to allow visitors back of the stage. No, no!" Carrie timidly waited, standing. There were chairs, but no one motioned her to be seated. The individual to whom the manager had been talking went away quite crest-fallen. That luminary gazed earnestly at some papers before him, as if they were of the greatest concern. "Did you see that in the ‘Herald’ this morning about Nat Goodwin, Harris?" "No," said the person addressed. "What was it?" "Made quite a curtain address at Hooley’s last night. Better look it up." Harris reached over to a table and began to look for the "Herald." "What is it?" said the manager to Carrie, apparently noticing her for the first time. He thought he was going to be held up for free tickets. Carrie summoned up all her courage, which was little at best. She realised that she was a novice, and felt as if a rebuff were certain. Of this she was so sure that she only wished now to pretend she had called for advice. "Can you tell me how to go about getting on the stage?" It was the best way after all to have gone about the matter. She was interesting, in a manner, to the occupant of the chair, and the simplicity of her request and attitude took his fancy. He smiled, as did the others in the room, who, however, made some slight effort to conceal their humour. "I don’t know," he answered, looking her brazenly over. "Have you ever had any experience upon the stage?" "A little," answered Carrie. "I have taken part in amateur performances." She thought she had to make some sort of showing in order to retain his interest. "Never studied for the stage?" he said, putting on an air intended as much to impress his friends with his discretion as Carrie. "No, sir." "Well, I don’t know," he answered, tipping lazily back in his chair while she stood before him. "What makes you want to get on the stage?" She felt abashed at the man’s daring, but could only smile in answer to his engaging smirk, and say: "I need to make a living." "Oh," he answered, rather taken by her trim appearance, and feeling as if he might scrape up an acquaintance with her. "That’s a good reason, isn’t it? Well, Chicago is not a good place for what you want to do. You ought to be in New York. There’s more chance there. You could hardly expect to get started out here." Carrie smiled genially, grateful that he should condescend to advise her even so much. He noticed the smile, and put a slightly different construction on it. He thought he saw an easy chance for a little flirtation. "Sit down," he said, pulling a chair forward from the side of his desk and dropping his voice so that the two men in the room should not hear. Those two gave each other the suggestion of a wink. "Well, I’ll be going, Barney," said one, breaking away and so addressing the manager. "See you this afternoon." "All right," said the manager. The remaining individual took up a paper as if to read. "Did you have any idea what sort of part you would like to get?" asked the manager softly. "Oh, no," said Carrie. "I would take anything to begin with." "I see," he said. "Do you live here in the city?" |
