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They wouldn't have done that if the actor person had been a stranger." "Of course they wouldn't," and Dotty wagged her head. "I felt sure there was some reason why Mrs. Berry said yes to Doll so easily. But I didn't think Coriell Bayne, or whatever his name is, was old enough to be Uncle Forbes' chum." "He isn't exactly," said Dolly; "that is, he said his father and Mr. Forbes were friends.
I think I shall go to see that play every chance I can possibly get. Could we go to an evening performance?" "Speak for yourself, John!" cried Bernice. "I don't want to see that play again! I enjoyed it heaps, and I think Mr. Coriell was fine, but next time we go I'd rather see something else." "So would I," said the two D's together.
Dolly concluded, as she looked about, that it was a sort of small theatre where Mr. Brown rehearsed his own plays. In this she was partly right, although it had been built more for entertainment of the actor's guests. James Brown, or Bayne Coriell, as he was more often called, stood very high in his profession, and had hosts of friends and acquaintances.
"What!" cried Alicia, hope rising in her breast that this was not the great actor after all, "aren't you Bayne Coriell?" "Sure! That's my stage name, but in private life I'm James Brown, at your service." "You don't even look like the Lascar!" wailed Dotty, dismayed at the turn things had taken. "Of course, I don't, little one. Actors on and off, are two different persons.
"Then he won't notice yours. He can't possibly accept a hundred invitations." "Oh, they don't all invite him. Any way, I'm going to write." Alicia found another pen, and soon produced this effusion: "My dear Mr. Coriell. "I'm just simply crazy over your performance in 'The Lass and the Lascar' and I feel that I MUST meet you. I shall DIE if I don't! Please, oh, PLEASE give me an opportunity.
What a lovely name he has, too: Bayne Coriell! A beautiful name." "Good gracious, Alicia! don't rave over him like that! Somebody will hear you!" "I don't care. I never saw any one so wonderful! I'm going to get his picture when we go out. I suppose it's for sale in the lobby. They usually are." "Are they?" asked Dolly. "Then I want to get one of the Lass. Marie Desmond, her name is.
"At first it seemed to me a very forward thing to do," Dolly replied, looking very sober; "but if you think it's all right, I'd like to meet Mr. Coriell. You see, I'm going to be an opera singer myself, some day, and there are a few questions I'd like to ask him." Mrs. Berry gasped. "You do beat the dickens!" she exclaimed. "So you're going on the stage, are you?" "Yes, I think so."
I did mean to sing in Grand Opera, and maybe I will, but if I can't do that, I'll sing in light opera, and I like to have this picture to remind me how sweet Miss Desmond looks in this play." "Pooh," said Alicia, "that's all very well. But I want these pictures of Bayne Coriell because he's such a glorious man! Why, he's as handsome as Apollo.
Can I, do you think?" "Yes, of course, Dollykins. You get that and I'll get my hero, my idol, Bayne Coriell!" As it chanced the photographs were not on sale at the theatre, but an usher told Alicia where they could be bought, and she directed Kirke to stop there on the way home.
"Trust the Coriell bunch to give you eats worth-while. Oh, I guess yes!" "But it's getting so late," sighed Dolly, as she caught sight of an old English clock that hung near by. "And Mr. Brown promised me I could speak to Miss Desmond. I'm afraid she'll be gone." "'Fraid she's gone now," said Ted. "But I'll flee and discover." He left them and threaded his way among the crowd.
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