Nelly O'Neill threw herself into her work with greater ardour than ever. But her triumphs were shadowed by worries. She was nervous lest the Hon. Reginald should turn up at one of her Halls--she had three now; she was afraid her voice was spoiling in the smoky atmosphere; sometimes the image of the Hon. Reginald came back reproachfully, sometimes tantalisingly. Oh, why was he so stupid? Or was it she who had been stupid?
Then there was the apprehension of the end of her career at the Lee Carters'. The young generation was nearly grown up. The eldest boy she even suspected of music-halls. He might stumble upon her.
Her popularity, too, was beginning to frighten her. Adventurous young gentlemen followed her in cabs--cabs were now a necessity of her triple appearance--and she never dared drive quite to her door or even the street. Bracelets she always returned, if the address was given; flowers she sent to hospitals, anonymous gifts to her family. Nobody ever saw her wearing his badge.
A sketch of her even found its way to one of Mrs. Lee Carter's journals.
"Why, she looks something like me!" Eileen said boldly.
"You flatter yourself," said Mrs. Lee Carter. "You're both Irish, that's all. But I don't see why these music-hall minxes should be pictured in respectable household papers."
"Some people say that the only real talent is now to be found in the Halls," said Eileen.
"Well, I hope it'll stay there," rejoined her mistress, tartly. Eileen recalled this conversation a few nights later, when she met Master Harold Lee Carter outside the door at midnight with a rival latch-key.
"Been to a theatre, Miss O'Keeffe?" asked her whilom pupil.
"No; have you?"
"Well, not exactly a theatre!"
"Why, what do you mean?"
"Sort of half-and-half place, you know."
By the icy chill at her heart at his innocent phrase, she knew how she dreaded discovery and clung to her social status.
"What is a half-and-half place?" she asked smiling.
"Oh, comic songs and tumblers and you can smoke."
"No? You're not really allowed to smoke in a theatre?"
"Yes, we are. They call it a music-hall--it's great fun. But don't tell the mater."............
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