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By Root 2120 0

phonograph records; cleaning women were busy sweeping up the litter from the previous night’s show, polishing the brass ashtrays and brushing the red plush seats. It brought back memories of childhood visits to the pantomime in Oxford and trips to the ballet in London, and Missie sighed, wondering what Professor Marcus Octavius Byron would think of his daughter now, about to set foot on the stage as a Ziegfeld showgirl. But she was desperate and one hundred fifty dollars a week had overcome any scruples she might have had. And anyway, wasn’t it exactly like being a fashion mannequin, only better paid? Besides, she knew it would be fun. Fun? she thought, trying to remember the last time she had fun. Maybe fun meant a life without financial worries?

“Vite, quickly,” Madame urged as Mr. Ziegfeld’s secretary held open the door, staring curiously at her.

“Miss Verity.” Ziegfeld hurried across the room, smiling genially. “Am I pleased to see you! See what it says here in the Times?” He thrust a copy of the newspaper at her, pointing out a quarter-page article devoted to Elise’s spring fashion parade, and there was her own name in print.

“Elise’s new mannequin Verity created a sensation when she appeared, clad in filmy violet chiffon embellished with silver beads and the most audacious little silver shoes strapped with violet satin bows at her deliciously delicate ankles. Verity epitomizes the new Vie Naturelle, Elise has said, and before too long you will see every woman in New York copying the way she wears her flowing nut-brown hair and her easy natural walk, though many will find it difficult to emulate Verity’s long, long legs, her grace, her beauty, and her startling violet eyes. The word is out that Flo Ziegfeld already has his eyes on her and maybe soon we can expect a new Ziegfeld star.”

“Et voilà, Ziegfeld!” Madame Elise said triumphantly. “I have created another star for you. First there was my little blond Maude who went on to marry the railroad millionaire, then racy, red-headed Jaquetta who you lost to the Hollywood movies, and now—Verity.”

“The most beautiful of them all,” he said, smiling.

“But I’m not beautiful, Mr. Ziegfeld,” Verity said honestly. “I think I look like most any other girl.”

“Ahhh.” Madame sighed, rolling her eyes. “How can this child be such a fool?” she muttered. “She is here to claim a place in theater history as a Ziegfeld girl and now she says she’s just an ordinary girl on the street!”

“Take it from me, and I am an expert,” Ziegfeld said briskly, “you have a different kind of beauty, Verity. Not flamboyant, I admit, but I’ve got enough flamboyants. What you have is beauty with class, and in my book that spells money.”

“Florenz and I have already come to an agreement,” Madame interjected quickly. “I will release you from your obligation to me and in return I am to design all your clothes, both for the shows and for your street wear.”

“Hey now, just a minute,” Ziegfeld protested, surprised.

“What? Is your new star supposed to walk down Fifth Avenue in a five-dollar coat? Is she supposed to dine at Rector’s in a department-store frock? Wearing dimestore jewels? Come now, Florenz, where are your brains? No, I insist she is dressed by Elise, and no one else. It goes in the contract. And naturally, I will send the bills to you.”

“Naturally.” Ziegfeld sighed.

“And she is to be paid two hundred dollars a week, with a raise in three months’ time, working or not.”

Ziegfeld groaned. “You’ve got yourself a tough negotiator here,” he told Missie with a wry grin. “Okay, okay, if you say so, Elise. And now, before you break the bank, I’d like to take you two ladies out to celebrate at Rector’s.”

Rector’s was the New York show-biz world’s swankiest rendezvous and Flo Ziegfeld Broadway’s ritziest producer, and the two were made for each other. The plush dining room was his home away from home and the maître d’ greeted him like a treasured old friend, bowing deeply over Madame Elise’s hand and even deeper over Verity’s when Ziegfeld introduced her as his future new star.

“But of course.” He