Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers
They strolled over toward the bar amid the noisy, shifting
company of notables. The dressy manager was shaken by the hand
three times in as many minutes.
"I hear your lodge is going to give a performance," observed
Hurstwood, in the most offhand manner.
"Yes, who told you?"
"No one," said Hurstwood. "They just sent me a couple of tickets,
which I can have for two dollars. Is it going to be any good?"
"I don’t know," replied the drummer. "They’ve been trying to get
me to get some woman to take a part."
"I wasn’t intending to go," said the manager easily. "I’ll subscribe,
of course. How are things over there?"
"All right. They’re going to fit things up out of the proceeds."
"Well," said the manager, "I hope they make a success of it. Have
He did not intend to say any more. Now, if he should appear on
the scene with a few friends, he could say that he had been urged
to come along. Drouet had a desire to wipe out the possibility of
"I think the girl is going to take a part in it," he said abruptly, after
thinking it over.
"You don’t say so! How did that happen?"
"Well, they were short and wanted me to find them some one. I
told Carrie, and she seems to want to try."
"Good for her," said the manager. "It’ll be a real nice affair. Do
her good, too. Has she ever had any experience?"
"Not a bit."
"Oh, well, it isn’t anything very serious."
"She’s clever, though," said Drouet, casting off any imputation
against Carrie’s ability. "She picks up her part quick enough."
"You don’t say so!" said the manager.
"Yes, sir; she surprised me the other night. By George, if she
"We must give her a nice little send-off," said the manager. "I’ll
look after the flowers."
Drouet smiled at his good-nature.
"After the show you must come with me and we’ll have a little
"I think she’ll do all right," said Drouet.
"I want to see her. She’s got to do all right. We’ll make her," and
the manager gave one of his quick, steely half-smiles, which was
a compound of good-nature and shrewdness.
Carrie, meanwhile, attended the first rehearsal. At this
performance Mr. Quincel presided, aided by Mr. Millice, a young
man who had some qualifications of past experience, which were
not exactly understood by any one. He was so experienced and so
business-like, however, that he came very near being rude-
failing to remember, as he did, that the individuals he was trying
to instruct were volunteer players and not salaried underlings.
"Now, Miss Madenda," he said, addressing Carrie, who stood in
one part un-certain as to what move to make, "you don’t want to
stand like that. Put expression in your face. Remember, you are
troubled over the intrusion of the stranger. Walk so," and he
struck out across the Avery stage in a most drooping manner.
Carrie did not exactly fancy the suggestion, but the novelty of the
situation, the presence of strangers, all more or less nervous, and
the desire to do anything rather than make a failure, made her
timid. She walked in imitation of her mentor as requested,
inwardly feeling that there was something strangely lacking.
"Now, Mrs. Morgan," said the director to one young married
woman who was to take the part of Pearl, "you sit here. Now, Mr.
Bamberger, you stand here, so. Now, what is it you say?"
"Explain," said Mr. Bamberger feebly. He had the part of Ray,
Laura’s lover, the society individual who was to waver in his
thoughts of marrying her, upon finding that she was a waif and a
nobody by birth.
"How is that-what does your text say?"