Don't Pick Me

CHAPTER IV

It is certain that Jerry drove those three women like sweat-shop slaves until the costumes were finished. Jane struck on the second afternoon.

"We must have our dinner sent in to us. I can't stop to get it," she said.

"All right; only for the love of the prophets, don't stop."

"How do you spell 'profits,' Jerry?" said Bobs. "It's outrageous for you to work us like this."

"I told you not to do it," he snapped.

"We've got a mortgage on you for the rest of your life," she laughed.

"Just so you don't foreclose now. You are perfect, white-winged seraphs to do this, and I will never get even with you."

The society girls, cast for the "vestal virgins," began to arrive at the studio to try on their robes. They seemed at a loss how to classify the three women, whom Jerry introduced as his friends. It was obvious that handsome Jerry was their idol. One girl especially amused them.

"So, this is where you live, Mr. Paxton?" she sighed. "How fascinating! I do adore Bohemia!"

"Yes? Well, just go into the bedroom and let Miss Judd help you put on the costume," he said hurriedly, not daring to look at his grinning friends.

"Your bedroom!" said the adoring one, in the tone of a pilgrim at Mecca.

Jane followed her into the bedroom, while Jerry tried to quiet Bobs and Jinny. It was interesting to note how unobtrusively Jane had taken charge of the work. She cut, directed, and fitted the gowns. The others sewed seams.

The gushing girl talked about Jerry and his gifts.

"Isn't Mr. Paxton too wonderful? He's a perfect director. And handsome! I think he is the handsomest man in New York!"

Jane made no comment.

"Are you an artist, too?"

"No."

"You don't look like an artist. So this is where he sleeps. Don't you think it looks like him?"

"Not especially. Now let Mr. Paxton see that on you."

With blushes and smiles the "vestal virgin" presented herself to Jerry's gaze. His eyes sought Jane's, and were relieved to find an answering gleam of amusement there. When the girl was finally disposed of, Bobs said:

"Are all of them in love with you, Jerry?"

"Silly idiot!" was his reply.

"Jerry, the well beloved!" she scoffed.

"You're as silly as the rest of 'em, Bobs," he protested.

"Wait until the show is over and they really get after our Jerry," teased Jinny.

"Rubbish! When the show's over, I'm through."

"What blessed innocents men are. He really believes that, poor dear," sighed Bobs.

"Talk on; talk on! Thank heaven, Jane Judd doesn't talk."

The day that the costumes were finished was the last the three women saw of Jerry. The prophets swallowed him up. He flung himself on his bed at all hours of early morning, after rehearsal. He ate where and when he could. Never had his powers been called on to such an extent. He had to deal with two hundred women. He needed the endurance of an ox, with the wisdom of a serpent. He met jealousy, anger, hatred, social politics, with the same genial tact. The women were crazy about him. He refused to referee any fight, and he had a committee select the chief actors in the drama.