The Measure Of Margaret Coppered, Part Two Of Three

Hello,

It's Mandy here.

Thanks for joining me this evening.

We're going to be listening to part two of the wonderful Kathleen Norris story,

The Measure of Margaret Copperad.

But before we begin,

Please go right ahead and make yourself really comfortable on whatever surface you're sitting or lying on.

And I'll begin.

Part Two When he went upstairs again,

He rapped at his stepmother's door.

Hatted and with a fur coat over her arm,

She opened it.

Are you taking Fanny?

Said Duncan,

Icily.

Fanny,

The maid,

Middle-aged,

Loyal,

Could be trusted with the honour of the Coppereds.

Heavens no!

Said Mrs.

Coppered,

Vigorously.

Then I hope you will not object to my escort,

Said the boy,

Flushing.

If he meant it for reproach,

It missed its mark.

Mrs.

Coppered's surprised look became doubtful,

Finally changed to relief.

Why,

That's very sweet of you,

Duncan,

She said graciously,

Especially as I can't tell you what I'm going for,

My dear,

For it may not occur.

But I think of all the people in the world you're the one to go with me.

Duncan eyed her severely.

At the same time,

He said,

I can't for one moment pretend exactly.

So it's all the nicer of you to volunteer to come along,

She said,

Briskly.

You'll have to hurry,

Duncan,

And ask Paul to come up for my trunk,

Will you?

We leave the house in half an hour.

Mrs.

Coppered advised her stepson to supply himself with magazines on the train.

For I shall have to read,

She said,

And perhaps you won't be able to sleep.

And read she did,

With hardly a look or a word for him.

She turned and re-turned the pages of a little paper-covered book,

Moving her lips and knitting her brows over it as she read.

Duncan,

Miserably apprehensive that they would meet some acquaintance and have to give an explanation of their mad journey,

Satisfied himself that there was no such immediate danger,

And assuming a forbidding expression,

Sat erect in his seat.

But he finally fell into an uneasy sleep,

Not rousing himself until the train drew into the 42nd Street station late in the evening.

His stepmother had made a rough pillow of his overcoat and put it between his shoulder and the window frame.

But he didn't comment on this as he slipped it on and followed her through the roaring,

Chilly station to a taxi cab.

The Colonial Theatre,

As fast as you can,

Said she as they jumped in.

She was obviously nervous,

Biting her lips and humming under her breath as she watched the brilliantly lighted streets they threaded so slowly.

Almost before the cab stopped,

She was out of it at the entrance of a Broadway theatre.

Duncan,

Alert and suspicious,

Read the name Colonial in flaming letters and learned from a larger sign that Miss Eleanor Forsyth and an all-star cast were appearing therein in a revival of Reed's Masks and Faces.

In the foyer,

Mrs.

Copperhead asked authoritatively for the manager.

It was after ten o'clock,

The curtain had risen on the last act,

And a general opinion prevailed that Mr.

Wyatt had gone home.

But Mrs.

Copperhead's distinguished air,

Her magnificent furs,

Her beauty all had their effect and presently Duncan followed her into the hot,

Untidy little office where the manager was to be found.

He was a pleasant,

Weary-looking man who wheeled about from his desk as they came in and signed the page to place chairs.

Mr.

Wyatt,

Said Mrs.

Copperhead,

With her pleasantest smile,

Can you give us five minutes?

I can give you as many as you like,

Madam,

Said the manager,

Patiently,

But with the most unpromising air.

Only five,

She reassured him,

As they sat down.

Then,

With an absolutely business-like air,

She continued,

Mr.

Wyatt,

You have Mr.

And Mrs.

Penrose in your company,

I think,

Both very old friends of mine.

She's playing Mabel Vane.

Mary Archer is the name she uses,

And he's Triplet.

Isn't that so?

The manager nodded,

Eyeing her curiously.

Mr.

Wyatt,

You've heard of their trouble,

Of course?

The accident,

This morning,

To their little boy.

Oh,

Yes,

Yes,

Said Wyatt,

Of course.

Hurt by a fall,

Poor little fellow.

Very serious,

Yes.

Poor things,

Did you want to see,

You know,

That one of your big surgeons here,

I've forgotten the name,

Is to operate on little Phil tomorrow?

Asked Mrs.

Copperhead.

So Penrose said,

Assented the manager,

Slowly,

Watching her,

As if a little surprised at her insistence.

Mr.

Wyatt,

Said Mrs.

Copperhead,

And Duncan noticed she had turned a little pale.

Mrs.

Penrose wired me news of all this,

Only a few hours ago.

She is half frantic at the idea that she must go on tomorrow afternoon and evening.

Yet the understudy is ill,

And she felt it was too short notice to ask you to make a change now.

But it occurred to me to come and see you about it.

I want to ask you a favor.

I want you to let me play Mrs.

Penrose's part tomorrow afternoon and tomorrow night.

I've played Mabel Vane a hundred times.

It's a part I know very well,

She went on quickly.

I'm not in the least afraid that I can't take it.

And then she can be with the little boy through the operation and afterwards.

He's only five,

You know,

At the unreasonable age when all children want their mothers.

Can't that be arranged,

Mr.

Wyatt?

Duncan,

Holding a horrified breath,

Fixed his eyes as he did on the manager's face.

He was relieved at the inflexible smile he saw there.

My dear lady,

Said Wyatt kindly,

That is absolutely out of the question.

Anything within reason I will be delighted to do for Penrose and Miss Archer.

But you must surely realize that I can't do that.

But wait,

Said Mrs.

Copperhead eagerly,

Not at all discouraged.

Don't say no yet.

I am an actress,

Mr.

Wyatt,

Or was one.

I know the part thoroughly and the circumstances,

The circumstances are unusual,

Aren't they?

While she was speaking,

The manager was steadily shaking his head.

I have no doubt you could play the part,

Said he,

But I can't upset my whole company by substituting now.

Tomorrow is going to be a big night.

The house is completely sold out to the Masons,

Their convention week,

You know.

As it happens,

There couldn't be a more inconvenient time.

No,

I can't consider it.

She had a very winning smile.

It would mean a rehearsal.

I suppose that would be inconvenient to begin with,

She said.

Exactly,

Said Wyatt,

Friday night.

I can't ask my people to rehearse tomorrow.

But suppose you put it to them,

And they were all willing,

Pursued the lady.

My dear lady,

I tell you,

It's absolutely.

.

.

He made a goaded gesture,

Then,

Making fierce little dashes and dots on his blotter with his pencil,

And eyeing each one ferociously as he made it,

He added irritably,

But in a quieter tone,

You're an actress,

Eh?

Where'd you get your experience?

With various stock companies on the Pacific coast,

He answered readily.

My name was Margaret Charteris.

I don't suppose you ever heard it?

As it happens,

I have,

He returned,

Surprised into interest.

You knew Joe Pitcher,

Of course.

He spoke of you.

I remember the name very well.

Professor Pitcher,

She exclaimed radiantly.

Of course I knew him,

Dear old man.

Where is he?

Still there?

Still there,

He assented absently.

You married,

I think.

I am Mrs.

Copperhead now.

Mrs.

Carey Copperhead,

She said.

The man gave her a suddenly awakened glance.

Surely,

He said thoughtfully.

They looked steadily at each other,

And Duncan saw the colour come back into Margaret's face.

There was a little silence.

Then the manager flung down his pencil,

Wheeled about in his chair,

And rubbed his hands briskly together.

Well,

He said.

And you think you can take Miss Archer's place,

Mrs.

Copperhead?

If you will let me.

Why,

He said.

And Duncan would not have believed that the somewhat heavy face could wear a look so pleasant.

You are doing so much,

Mrs.

Copperhead,

In stepping into the gap this way,

That I'll do my share,

If I can.

Perhaps I can't arrange it,

But we can try.

I'll call a rehearsal and speak to Miss Forsyth tonight.

If you know the part,

It's just possible that by going over it now,

We can get out of a rehearsal tomorrow.

She wants to be with the little boy,

Eh?

He added musingly.

Yes,

I suppose it might make a big difference,

His not being terrified by strangers.

And then,

Turning toward Margaret,

He said warmly and a little awkwardly,

This is a remarkably kind thing for you to do,

Mrs.

Copperhead.

Oh,

I would do more than that for Mary Penrose,

Said she,

With a little difficulty.

She knows it.

She wired me as a mad last hope today,

And we came as fast as we could,

Mr.

Copperhead and I.

And she introduced Duncan very simply,

My stepson,

Mr.

Wyatt.

Duncan,

Fuming,

Could be silent no longer.

I hope my Mrs.

Copperhead is not serious in offering to do this,

Said he,

Very white and in a slightly shaking voice.

I assure you that my father,

That everyone,

Would think it's a most extraordinary thing to do.

Mrs.

Copperhead laid her hand lightly on his arm.

Yes,

I know,

Duncan,

She said quickly,

Soothingly.

I know how you feel,

But.

.

.

Duncan slightly repudiated the touch.

I can't think how you can even consider it,

He said passionately.

A thing like this always gets out.

You know,

You know how you're having been on the stage as regarded by our friends.

It's simply insane,

He had said,

A little more than he meant in his high feeling.

And Margaret's face had grown white.

I asked you only for your escort,

Duncan,

She said gently,

But with blazing eyes.

There was open hostility in the look they exchanged.

I can't see what good my escort does,

Said the boy childishly,

When you won't listen to what you know is true.

Nevertheless,

I still want it,

She answered evenly.

And after a moment,

Duncan,

True to his training and already a little ashamed of his ineffectual outburst,

For to waste a display of emotion was,

In his code,

A lamentable breach of etiquette,

Shrugged his shoulders.

Still want to stay with it,

Said Mr Wyatt,

Giving her a shrewd,

Friendly look.

Certainly,

She said promptly,

But she was breathing fast.

Then we might go and talk things over,

He said.

And a moment later,

They were crossing the theatre to the stage door.

The final curtain had fallen only a moment before,

But the lights were up,

The orchestra halfway through a swift waltz,

And the audience,

Buttoning coats and struggling with gloves,

Was pouring up the aisles.

Duncan,

Through all his anger and apprehension,

Felt a little thrill of superiority over these departing playgoers,

As he and his stepmother were admitted behind the scenes.

He was young,

And the imagined romance of green rooms and footlights appealed to him.

The company,

Suddenly summoned,

Appeared in various stages of street and stage attire.

Peg,

A handsome young woman of brilliant colour and golden hair,

Still wore her brocaded gown and patches,

And wore,

In addition,

A slightly affronted look at this unprecedented proceeding.

The other members of the cast,

Yawning,

Slightly curious,

Were grouped about in the great,

Drafty space between the wings,

That it cost Duncan some little effort to realise was the stage.

From this group,

As Margaret followed the stage manager into the circle of light,

A little woman suddenly detached herself,

And running across the stage and breaking into sobs as she ran,

She was in Margaret's arms,

In a second.

Oh Meg,

Meg,

Meg,

She cried,

Laughing and crying at the same time.

I knew you'd come,

I knew you'd manage it somehow.

I've been praying so,

I've been watching the clock.

Oh Meg,

She went on pitifully,

Fumbling blindly for a handkerchief.

He's been suffering so,

And I had to leave him.

They thought he was asleep,

But when I tried to loosen his little hand,

He woke up.

Mary,

Mary,

Said Mrs.

Copperhead,

Soothingly,

Patting the bowed shoulder.

No one else moved,

A breathless attention held the group.

Of course I came,

She went on,

With a little triumphant laugh,

And I think everything's all right.

Yes,

I know,

Said Mrs.

Penrose,

With a convulsive effort at self-control.

She caught Margaret's soft big fur and drew it across her eyes.

I'm ruining your fur,

Margaret,

She said,

Laughing through tears,

But seeing you this way and realising that I could go to him now.

Mary,

You must not cry this way,

Said Mrs.

Copperhead,

Seriously.

You don't want little Phil to see you with red eyes,

Do you?

Mr.

Wyatt and I have been talking it over,

She went on,

But it remains to be seen,

Dear,

If all the members of the company are willing to trouble.

Her apologetic look went round the listening circle.

It inconveniences everyone,

You know,

And it would mean a rehearsal tonight,

This minute,

In fact,

When everyone's tired and cold.

Her voice was soothing,

Very low,

But the gentle tones carried their message to everyone there.

The mortal cleverness of such an appeal struck Duncan sharply as an onlooker.

The warm-hearted star,

Eleanor Forsythe,

Was the first to respond with a half-indignant protest that she wasn't too tired and cold to do that much for the dear kiddie,

And other volunteers rapidly followed suit.

Ten minutes later,

The still tearful little mother was actually in a cab,

Whirling through the dark streets towards the hospital where the child lay,

And a rehearsal was in full swing upon the stage of the Colonial.

Only the few actors actually necessary to the scenes in which Mabel figures need have remained,

But a general spirit of sympathetic generosity kept almost the entire cast.

Mr.

Penrose,

As triplet,

Had the brunt of the dialogue to carry,

And he and Margaret,

Who had quite unaffectedly laid aside her furs and entered seriously into the work of the evening,

Remained after all the others had lingered away,

One by one.

To be continued.