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Broadway's Royal Family
Second and final instalment of the all-absorbing story of the Barrymores.
By ADA PATTERSON
A CELEBRATED magazine writer whom Ethel Barrymore had promised an interview on her theory of clothes went to the great actress' apartment at the appointed hour. She rapped. Silence. She knocked. More silence. She hammered. An engulfing quiet was the only response. She rapped on an adjacent door. A round head and fresh complexion enwrapped with preternatural solemnity appeared.
"I have an engagement with Miss Barrymore," said the visitor, "but no one answers."
"No, ma'am. Miss Barrymore's hout, ma'am."
"When did she go out?''
"I should say a quarter of an hour, ma'am."
"Where can I wait for her?"
"I don't know, ma'am."
"Who are you?"
"I am Mr. John Barrymore's man."
"Is that his apartment?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Can't I wait there?"
"But Mr. John isn't up yet."
The magazinist disposed herself with what dignity she could upon the stairs. Sixty minutes cramped her limbs. Ninety did the same with her temper. She rapped upon the door adjacent to Aliss Barrymore's. The round head reappeared.
"Do you know where Miss Barrymore has gone?"
"Yes. ma'am," replied the servant blandly.
"Why didn't you tell me?'' demanded the magazinist.
"Vou didn't awsk me."
"Well, I awsk you now." Her patience was exhausted.
"She's having her picture painted."
"Where?"
"At Bryant Park Studios. Here's the name of the artist.'' There the writer found her. Miss Barrvmore smiled. Cold
To her children Barrymore is a
■Virginia, Sammy and John Drew Colt — Ethel mother as devoted as was her own mother.
resentment evaporates in the sunshine of her smile. She apologized for the "delay." She accompanied the writer back to her apartment and gave her tea and a delightful hour ami made her almost forget her two and a half coventrj--likc hours.
.As her art, so Ethel Barrymore's personality grows more definite.
"I don't like New York; I do like Philadelphia." she said to a shocked New York interviewer. "And it isn't because I
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