"You don't know anything about such things. I don't know much, but I know they must never have a bit of that stuff! Anyway, Ray?--we must go in now,--don't give my secret away until I give you permission, will you?"
"No; if you'll promise to think it over and try to believe what I've told you,--that it's best to tell all."
"All right, I'll promise that, and I may decide to tell. But I want to wait until after to-morrow, anyway."
By a little adroit manoeuvring Van Reypen managed things so that he and Azalea did not go to New York in the motor with Patty and Mona, but went down by themselves in the train.
For Azalea was most anxious that Patty should not know she was going to the moving pictures, and especially that she was going to see "Star of the West."
It had already become a popular picture and was drawing crowds. And though Azalea's part in it was a small one, yet her work was so good that one or two reviews had mentioned it approvingly.
Azalea had hoped that it would be possible to let Van Reypen continue in his mistaken impression that the girl on the screen was not herself, but some one who looked marvellously like her.
But the first sight of herself in the play so thrilled Azalea that she was unable to repress an exclamation of surprised delight.
"It _is_ you, Azalea!" whispered Phil, realising the truth. "How _did_ you manage it? Oh, you wonderful girl!"
Azalea looked at him in astonishment. In the dim light of the theatre she could see his face glowing with pride and pleasure.
She gave a little gasp. "Oh, Phil, aren't you--I mean--are you _glad_ about it?"
"I don't know,--Azalea,--it seems so queer--but, oh, look at that! Did you really do that, Azalea!"
For the girl on the screen had flung herself, bareback, on a vicious, bucking pony, and holding on by his mane, went through the most hairbreadth escapes, yet was not thrown. Indeed, she finally tamed the wild creature, and dashed madly off on her errand. This was the rescue of a baby who had been left behind, when those who should have looked after the child were themselves fleeing from a cyclone.
The scene was remarkably well staged, and the illusion of the cyclone wonderfully worked out.
The baby, left to the care of servants, was in a lightly built house that rocked in the blasts. It threatened to collapse at any minute, and Azalea, racing against time, in the face of the gale, spurred on her flying steed, and reached the house just as it crashed to ruins.