Not being at her ease in this kind of conversation, and finding the effort to see Steptoe as Lothario difficult, Letty became blunt again.
"He must have had an awful crush on the first one."
"It wasn"t her exactly; it was the boy."
"Oh, there was a boy?"
"Why of course, dear! Didn"t you know that?"
"Whose boy was it?"
"Why, the mistress"s boy; but I don"t think _he_----" Letty understood the p.r.o.noun as applying to Steptoe--"I don"t think _he_ ever realized that he wasn"t his very own." Straightening the white cover on the chest of drawers Miss Towell shook her head. "It was a sad case."
"What made it sad?"
"A lovely boy he was. Had a kind word for everyone, even for the cat.
But somehow his father and mother--well, they were people of the world, and they hadn"t wanted a child, and when he came--and he so delicate always--I could have cried over him."
Letty"s heart began to swell; her lip trembled. "I know someone like that myself."
"Do you, dear? Then I"m sure you understand."
Partly because the minute was emotional, and partly from a sense that she needed to explain herself, Letty murmured, more or less indistinctly: "It"s on his account that I"m here."
Failing to see the force of this Miss Towell was content to say: "I"m glad you were led to me, dear. There"s always a power to shepherd us along, if we"ll only let ourselves be guided."
To Letty the moment had arrived when plainness of speech was imperative. Leaning across the tray, which still stood on her lap, she gazed up at her hostess with eager, misty eyes. "_He_ said you"d teach me all the ropes."
Miss Towell paused beside the bed, to look inquiringly at the tense little face. "The ropes of what, dear?"
"Of what--" it was hard to express--"of what you--you used to be yourself. You don"t seem like it now," she added, desperately, "but you were, weren"t you?"
"Oh, that!" The surprise was in the discovery that an American girl of Letty"s age could entertain so sensible a purpose. "Why, of course, dear! I"ll tell you all I know, and welcome."
"There"s quite a trick to it, isn"t there?"
"Well, it"s more than a trick. There are two or three things which you simply _have_ to be."
"Oh, I know that. That"s what frightens me."
"You needn"t be afraid, once you"ve made up your mind to it." She leaned above the bed to relieve Letty of the tray. "For instance--you don"t mind my asking questions do you?"
"Oh, no! You can ask me anything."
"Then the first thing is this: Are you pretty good as a needle-woman?"
Letty was astounded. "Why--why you don"t have to _sew_, do you?"
"Certainly, dear. That"s one of the most important things you"d be called on to do. You"d never get anywhere if you weren"t quick with your needle and thread. And then there"d be hair-dressing. You have to know something about that. I don"t say that you must be a professional; but for the simpler occasions--after that there"s packing. That"s something we often overlook, and where French girls have us at a disadvantage. They pack so beautifully."
Letty was entirely at sea. "Pack what?"
"Pack trunks, dear."
"What for?"
"For travel; for moving from town to country; or from country to town; or making visits; you see you"re always on the go. Oh, it"s more than a trick; it"s quite an art; only--" She smiled at Letty as she stood holding the tray, before carrying it out--"only, I shouldn"t have supposed you"d be thinking of that when you act in moving pictures."
"I--I thought I might do both."
"Now, I should say that that"s one thing you couldn"t do, dear. If you took up this at all you"d find it so absorbing----"
"And you"re very unhappy too, aren"t you? I"ve always heard you were."
"Well, that would depend a good deal on yourself. There"s nothing in the thing itself to make you unhappy; but sometimes there are other women----"
Letty"s eyes were flaming. "They say they"re awful."
"Oh, not always. It"s a good deal as you carry yourself. I made it a point to keep my position and respect the position of others. It wasn"t always easy, especially with Mary Ann Courage and Janie Cakebread; but----"
Letty"s head fell back on the pillow. Her eyes closed. A merry-go-round was spinning in her head. Where was she? How had she come there? What was she there _for?_ Where was the wickedness she had been told to look for everywhere? Having gone in search of it, and expected to find it lying in wait from the first minute of pa.s.sing the protecting door, she had been shuffled along from one to another, with exasperating kindness, only to be brought face to face with Jane Cakebread and Mary Ann Courage at the end.
Miss Towell having borne away the tray, Letty struggled out of bed, and put on the woollen dressing gown thrown over a chair by the bedside. This was no place for her. Beehive Valley was not far off, and her forty-five cents would more than suffice to take her there.
She would see the casting director. She would get a job. With food to eat and a place to sleep as a starting point she would find her own way to wickedness, releasing the prince in spite of all the mishaps which kept her as she was.
But she trembled so that having wrapped the dressing gown about her she was obliged to sit down again. She would have to be crafty. She must get this woman to help her with her dressing, without suspecting what she meant to do. How could she manage that? She must try to think.
She was trying to think when she heard the ring of the telephone. It suggested an idea. Some time--not this time, of course--when the telephone rang and the woman was answering it, she, Letty, would be able to slip away. The important thing was to do her hair and get her clothes on.
"Yes?... Yes?" There was a little catch to the breath, a smothered laugh, a smothered sigh. "Oh, so this is you!... Yes, I got it....
Seeing it again gave me quite a turn.... I never expected that you"d keep it all this time, but.... Yes, she"s here.... No; she didn"t come exactly of her own accord, but I--I found her.... I could tell you about it easier if you were--it"s so hard on the telephone when there"s so much to say--but perhaps you don"t care to.... Yes, she"s quite well--only a little tired--been worked up somehow--but a day or so in bed.... Oh, very sensible ... and she wants me to teach her how to be a lady"s maid...."
So that was it! Steptoe had been treacherous. Letty would never believe in anyone again. She could make these reflections hurriedly because the voice at the telephone was silent.
"Oh!"
It was the same exclamation as that of Barbara Walbrook, but in another tone--a tone of distress, sharp, sympathetic. Pulling the dressing gown about her, frightened, tense, Letty knew that something had gone wrong.
"Oh! Oh!... last night, did you say?... early this morning...."
Letty crept to where her hostess was seated at the telephone. "What is it?"
But Miss Towell either didn"t hear the question or was too absorbed to answer it. "Oh, "Enery, _try_ to remember that G.o.d is his life--that there can be no death to be afraid of when----"
Letty s.n.a.t.c.hed the receiver from the other woman"s hands, and fell on her knees beside the little table. "Oh, what is it? What is it? It"s me; Letty! Something"s happened. I"ve got to know."
Amazed and awed by the force of this intrusion Miss Towell stood up, and moved a little back.
Over the wire Steptoe"s voice sounded to Letty like the ghost of his voice, broken, dead.