With a Feather on My Nose

With a Feather on My Nose

With a Feather on My Nose

With a Feather on My Nose

Excerpt

I could hear John Drew harrumphing through his dressing-room door at the Empire Theater, giving forth with those highly bred horsy noises which the Drew-Barrymore clan have so aristocratically made their own hallmark.

I stood outside, in my new leghorn hat with the lilacs on it, with my hair fluffed out behind, and my little lilac checked dress. With me was my new friend, Mr. Drew's niece Ethel Barrymore, who had been sent to soothe the great man over the embarrassment of meeting a new leading lady with the impossible--absolutely unheard-of!--name of Billie Burke.

I have always been called Billie Burke, except for those eighteen improbable, glittering years when I was also Mrs. Florenz Ziegfeld, Jr. I find it a perfectly adequate name. It's an especially nice name for the skitter-witted ladies I play on the screen today, and it suits me too because I might as well confess here and now that I am not always saner than I seem.

We could hear Mr. Drew through the dressingroom door, as I was saying, and among his mutterings was the complaint that Charles Frohman would do anything so dreadful, absurd, and outrageous to . . .

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