“Pretty clever work for amateurs,” he said.
“You think it will go?”
“With some changes and rearrangements. Yes, I should say so.”
“Are you thinking of producing it soon?”
“Yes, if I can make satisfactory arrangements with the author I’ll put it in rehearsal right away.”
“I think the author will be satisfied.”
The manager looked a question.
“We have been corresponding during my work on it,” Jarvis explained.
Mr. Frohman stared, then laughed.
“We can soon find out whether she’s pleased. She is due here at three o’clock to-day.”
“She is coming here to-day?” Jarvis exclaimed.
“Could I talk to her then—there is so much——”
“Sorry. I promised there would be no one here. Some crazy idea about keeping her name a secret.”
“Of course. I would not intrude,” said Jarvis, hastily. “She wrote me that she would leave rehearsals to you and me.”
“Did she? Will your wife want to come to rehearsals?”
“I think so. Would there be any objections?”
“Not if she is co-author.”
“She is very clever.”
“I don’t doubt it. You leave that copy here. I’ll go over it, in part, with the author, and let her take it to look over. I will wire you what day I want to get the company together for a reading.”
“All right, sir.”
“If the author is satisfied with this, I’ll have a contract made out to submit to you and your wife. In the meantime, do you want an advance?”
“All right. You’ll hear from me. You’ve done surprisingly well with this, Jocelyn—you, or your wife.”
“Thank you. Good-day.”
At three o’clock the other member of the Jocelyn family arrived.
“You are good to see me. I would have burst with curiosity before Jarvis got back,” she began the minute she got inside the door.
“I naturally wanted to consult the author before I accepted the play.”
“Is it any good? Are you going to take it?”
“What do you think about it? Are you satisfied?”
“Yes. I think it’s a love of a play.”
“How much of it did Jarvis do?”
“Oh, a great deal!”
“Not enough to spoil it, eh?”
“He has worked very hard,” she said seriously.
“He tells me he has corresponded with the author during his work, and he begged to be here for this meeting.”
“Did he? Bless his heart! It has been so funny—that correspondence! He’s crazy about that author-lady.”
“Either you are very clever, or he’s very stupid, which is it?”
“When are you going to tell him the truth?”
“The opening night.”
“Upon my word, you have got a dramatic sense. Blaze of success, outbursts of applause, husband finds wife is the centre and cause of it. That sort of thing, eh?”