Van Bibbers Life | Page 6

prominent people.
"Her name is Madeline. Speak to the gentleman, Madeline; he wants to
tell you what a great big hit youse made."
The little girl was seated on one of the cushions of a double throne so
high from the ground that the young woman who was pulling off the
child's silk stockings and putting woollen ones on in their place did so
without stooping. The young woman looked at Van Bibber and nodded
somewhat doubtfully and ungraciously, and Van Bibber turned to the
little girl in preference. The young woman's face was one of a type that
was too familiar to be pleasant.
He took the Littlest Girl's small hand in his and shook it solemnly, and
said, "I am very glad to know you. Can I sit up here beside you, or do
you rule alone?"
"Yes, ma'am--yes, sir," answered the little girl.
Van Bibber put his hands on the arms of the throne and vaulted up
beside the girl, and pulled out the flower in his button-hole and gave it
to her.
"Now," prompted the wardrobe woman, "what do you say to the
gentleman?"
"Thank you, sir," stammered the little girl.
"She is not much used to gentlemen's society," explained the woman
who was pulling on the stockings.
"I see," said Van Bibber. He did not know exactly what to say next.
And yet he wanted to talk to the child very much, so much more than
he generally wanted to talk to most young women, who showed no
hesitation in talking to him. With them he had no difficulty whatsoever.

There was a doll lying on the top of a chest near them, and he picked
this up and surveyed it critically. "Is this your doll?" he asked.
"No," said Madeline, pointing to one of the children, who was much
taller than herself; " it's 'at 'ittle durl's. My doll he's dead."
"Dear me!" said Van Bibber. He made a mental note to get a live one in
the morning, and then he said: "That's very sad. But dead dolls do come
to life."
The little girl looked up at him, and surveyed him intently and critically,
and then smiled, with the dimples showing, as much as to say that she
understood him and approved of him entirely. Van Bibber answered
this sign language by taking Madeline's hand in his and asking her how
she liked being a great actress, and how soon she would begin to storm
because THAT photographer hadn't sent the proofs. The young woman
understood this, and deigned to smile at it, but Madeline yawned a very
polite and sleepy yawn, and closed her eyes. Van Bibber moved up
closer, and she leaned over until her bare shoulder touched his arm, and
while the woman buttoned on her absurdly small shoes, she let her
curly head fall on his elbow and rest there. Any number of people had
shown confidence in Van Bibber--not in that form exactly, but in the
same spirit--and though he was used to being trusted, he felt a sharp
thrill of pleasure at the touch of the child's head on his arm, and in the
warm clasp of her fingers around his. And he was conscious of a keen
sense of pity and sorrow for her rising in him, which he crushed by
thinking that it was entirely wasted, and that the child was probably
perfectly and ignorantly happy.
"Look at that, now," said the wardrobe woman, catching sight of the
child's closed eyelids; "just look at the rest of the little dears, all that
excited they can't stand still to get their hats on, and she just as
unconcerned as you please, and after making the hit of the piece, too."
"She's not used to it, you see," said the young woman, knowingly; "she
don't know what it means. It's just that much play to her."
This last was said with a questioning glance at Van Bibber, in whom

she still feared to find the disguised agent of a Children's Aid Society.
Van Bibber only nodded in reply, and did not answer her, because he
found he could not very well, for he was looking a long way ahead at
what the future was to bring to the confiding little being at his side, and
thinking of the evil knowledge and temptations that would mar the
beauty of her quaintly sweet face, and its strange mark of gentleness
and refinement. Outside he could hear his friend Lester shouting the
refrain of his new topical song, and the laughter and the hand-clapping
came in through the wings and open door, broken but tumultuous.
"Does she come of professional people?" Van Bibber asked, dropping
into the vernacular. He spoke softly, not so much that he might not
disturb the child,