Tra-la-la! She’d make him eat those words.
Then she began at once to do the next story of the series, and by the time she reached the club she had it all thought out. It was then that Jarvis’s telephone message came to her, and she decided that he was even now reading his play aloud to Belasco; that he, too, had found a golden key.
She worked on the new story all the afternoon, and waited for Jarvis’s triumphant return, in a seventh heaven of joyous anticipation.
Jarvis marshalled his reluctant feet into “Forward, March!” down the hall, and trod softly in the hope that he could get past Bambi’s door; but at his first step on the corridor it was flung open, and the small figure silhouetted against the light of the room behind.
“You read him the play?”
He led her gently into the room, closed the door, and faced her.
“Jarvis, he refused it?” she cried.
“I have spent seven hours sitting in an anteroom with a blond steno, waiting. Nobody has been near, all day, excepting fat old girls and Billy boys, looking for jobs.”
“Belasco didn’t come?”
“He did not. What’s more, he sometimes does not come for days.”
“Couldn’t they send him word you were there?”
Even Jarvis smiled at this.
“My dear, they treated me with the same consideration afforded the janitor. It occurred to me, during those seven hours of enforced thought, that our ideas of the simplicity of selling a play were a trifle arrogant. It seems to have unforeseen complications.”
Bambi sat down on the bed, her brow knitted.
“Seven hours sitting? That’s awful!”
“The blond young woman suggested a letter of introduction or an appointment, but I don’t know any one to give me a letter. I doubt if he will give me the appointment without it.”
“I can get it for you!” she said.
“You can? Where? How?”
“I know a way. Never you mind.”
“I was afraid you would be so disappointed I was tempted not to come back at all,” he remarked.
“Disappointed? Not I! Why, we can wait seven years, if need be. In the end we will win.”
“You are a very good sport, Miss Mite.”
“I are,” laughed she. “I am a very able woman, Jarvis. Some day you will be proud of me.”
“You are a terrible egotist,” he objected.
“If I didn’t believe in myself, where would I be? You and father scarcely notice me.”
“I’m beginning to notice you,” Jarvis interrupted. “I was really surprised to find how concerned I was not to disappoint you.”
“That was nice of you, Jarvis,” she beamed at him.
“Don’t do that,” he said sharply.
“Smile like a cat at a mouse,” he said.
“I intended that for a grateful smile.”
“It didn’t turn out that. It was possessive. If I can’t be friendly with you without your over-occupying my thoughts, I shall ignore you.”