THE TORCH-BEARERS—ACT II.

NOTE:

The setting for this act consists simply of three wings set in the middle of the stage about four feet from the footlights, and parallel to the footlights, the wing in the middle, a plain one, and the one on either side of it, a door-wing. These doors open toward the footlights, and the one on the right is hinged to the right, and the one on the left, to the left. From these door-wings, regular plain wings oblique off to the back wall; and the whole thing is lashed and stage-screwed after the fashion of regulation stage-setting. As the doors in the back flat open, there can be had a glimpse of footlights, and just beyond them, a neutral drop, in grayish black, to represent an auditorium. Between the back flat and the stage footlights, (as distinguished from the regular footlights) the miniature stage is set to represent the interior of a doctor’s waiting-room. Through the door at the right can be seen a desk and revolving chair, and a couple of plain chairs against the wall; and through the left door, a table, littered with magazines, a cabinet, a revolving bookcase and two more chairs. There is a bright rug on the floor. Between the back flat and the regular footlights, over toward the left, there is a stage-screw sticking right up out of the floor; and between the two doors there is a plain chair with its back against the flat. Over the door on the right, there is a row of six electric bulbs with a cord and button depending from it; and further right, half-way back, there is a wood-wing, set as though it were the exterior backing for a window in the miniature set. Over at the left, away back, fastened about head-high against the back wall, there is a small switchboard-arrangement. Just below this there is an old chair, without a back, with a newspaper lying upon it.

THE TORCH-BEARERS—ACT II.

A waltz is being played somewhere off at the right. Florence and Mrs. Ritter are standing in the middle of the stage, facing the flats, talking. Florence is wearing a fawn-colored, one-piece coat-dress, buttoned high at the throat, military fashion, and a toque made of wine-colored velvet leaves. She wears fawn-colored slippers and stockings, and carries a fitch muff. Mrs. Ritter is wearing a very rich-looking coat-suit in blue serge, trimmed at the collar and cuffs with white monkey-fur. Her hat is dark-blue felt, quite large, with a bird of paradise set at a decidedly rakish tilt. Her slippers and stockings are black, and she carries an umbrella. Over at the extreme left, and forward, Mrs. Fell is hearing Mr. Twiller read his lines from the manuscript. Mrs. Fell is gowned in a brilliant creation of silver-cloth trimmed with sea-green satin. There are numerous strings of crystal beads hanging in the front from the waist to the bottom of the skirt, and she has a spreading poinsetta in scarlet velvet fastened at her waist. There is a long, fish-tail train to the gown, lined with the green satin, and she has a heavy rope of pearls and sea-green beads around her neck, from which her lorgnon depends. There are diamonds in her hair, diamonds galore upon her arms and hands, and she’s wearing her diamond dog-collar. Her slippers and stockings are of pale green. Mr. Twiller has on a double-breasted blue-serge suit, a black derby, black shoes and fawn-colored spats, and a perfectly villainous-looking black mustache, absurdly large, and obviously artificial. He stands leaning upon a cane, reciting his lines to Mrs. Fell. Mr. Spindler, in a dinner-suit, is trying desperately to unfasten the stage-screw from the floor at the left, while Mr. Hossefrosse, wearing a light business-suit, a light, soft hat, tan shoes and spats, and carrying a cane and gloves, is pacing back and forth between the left door and the extreme left, reciting his lines to himself. He is atrociously made up, with the carmine smeared heavily on his cheek-bones. The stage manager, in a tan jumper and army shirt, dirty white running-pumps, a battered old cap adorned with many tobacco-tags, and carrying a hammer, wanders on from the right and crosses the stage, passing below Florence and Mrs. Ritter, who turn and look at him curiously, and continues on up at the left to the switch-board, where he picks up the newspaper from the broken chair, and, after lighting his pipe, sits down to read. He is apparently disgusted with the world and utterly oblivious of his surroundings. The waltz-music stops, and Mr. Hossefrosse comes to a halt in his pacing, right outside the left door. It is instantly flung open, knocking him toward the left, and disarranging his hat, and Mrs. Pampinelli sweeps out—in a princess-gown of ruby-colored velvet, with a long train, and heavily trimmed about the upper part of the bodice with ornaments of ruby-colored beads. Her shoulders and arms are bare, and she has a small string of rubies about her throat;—a bracelet and several rings of rubies; as well as a high Spanish comb studded with rubies. Her slippers are of black velvet. Mrs. Ritter gives a little cry as Mr. Hossefrosse is struck by the door.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Holding the door ajar] Oh, did I hit you, Mr. Hossefrosse! I’m so sorry.

Hossefrosse. [Settling his hat] That’s all right.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [To the ladies] The setting looks splendid, girls! [Crossing quickly below Hossefrosse towards the left] Will you come here for a moment, Mr. Spindler?

Mrs. Ritter. [Turning away to the right] I don’t want to see it till I go on.

Florence. [As Hossefrosse comes towards her] You’d better keep away from that door, Mr. Hossefrosse. [She and Mrs. Ritter laugh.]

Hossefrosse and Mrs. Pampinelli, together.

Hossefrosse. Yes, I think I had.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Up at the left, addressing the stage manager] Are you ready, Mr. Stage Manager? [He continues to read.]

Hossefrosse and Mrs. Pampinelli, together.

Hossefrosse. [Brushing his clothes] I don’t think a whisk-broom’d be out of place on this stage, either.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning to Spindler, who is still occupied with the stage-screw] Mr. Spindler, will you come here, please? [Turning back to the stage manager] Mr. Stage Manager! [Spindler goes towards her, and Hossefrosse goes through the left door.]

Stage Manager. [Looking up from his paper, very peevishly] Yes?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Are you all ready?

Stage Manager and Twiller, together.

Stage Manager. Yes, sure, I’m all ready. [He resumes his newspaper.]

Twiller. [Turning sharply to Spindler, who has stopped on his way to Mrs. Pampinelli to call Mrs. Fell’s attention to the stage-screw, and to warn her to be careful of it] Oh, go away! Can’t you see we’re busy.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Mr. Spindler!

Spindler. [Stepping briskly to her side] Yes, mam?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Come here, please. [Turning to the stage manager] Mr. Stage Manager—[He looks up.] This young man will give you the cue for the curtain, in case I am not here.

Stage Manager. All right. [He resumes his newspaper.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning and coming forward again, holding her skirt up off the floor] You stand right here, Mr. Spindler, and I’ll give you the signal when I’m ready.

Spindler. All right.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Hurrying towards the left door] Now, is everybody all right?

Florence. Yes.

Mrs. Ritter. I think so.

Mrs. Pampinelli. How are you, Paula?

Mrs. Ritter. [Giggling] All right.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Where’s Mr. Hossefrosse? [She glances frantically about.]

Florence and Mrs. Ritter, together.

Florence. He’s just stepped on the stage.

Mrs. Ritter. He was here a minute ago.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Mr. Hossefrosse, where are you! [She opens the left door.]

Mrs. Ritter. [Calling] Mr. Hossefrosse! [He opens the right door and comes out.]

Hossefrosse. Yes?

Teddy and Mrs. Pampinelli, together.

Teddy. [Sitting at the desk over at the right, in the miniature set beyond the flats, to Mrs. Pampinelli, as she comes through the left door] There he is.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [To Teddy, as she steps into the miniature set, through the left door] Where’s Mr. Hossefrosse?

Florence and Mrs. Ritter, together.

Florence. [To Hossefrosse] Mrs. Pampinelli’s looking for you.

Mrs. Ritter. [Calling] Here he is, Mrs. Pampinelli! [Hossefrosse steps quickly to the left door and starts in, just as Mrs. Pampinelli comes out through the right door. Florence steps over to the left door and catches Hossefrosse by the arm, and pulls him back.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Coming through the right door] Where is he?

Mrs. Ritter. [Pointing to Hossefrosse] There he is! [She laughs.]

Florence. [Drawing Hossefrosse back] Mrs. Pampinelli wants you!

Hossefrosse. [To Mrs. Pampinelli] I beg your pardon.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, Mr. Hossefrosse!

Hossefrosse. [Crossing to the right towards her] Yes?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Are you all right?

Hossefrosse. I think so, yes.

Mrs. Pampinelli. How is your make-up?

Hossefrosse. All right, I think.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Indicating the right door] Would you stand here for a moment under this light until I see it?

Hossefrosse. Certainly. [He goes to the right door and stands with his back against it. The light from the row of electric bulbs over the door shines down on his face. Mrs. Pampinelli stands off to his right, surveying his make-up critically.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Very good.

Hossefrosse. Not too much red?

Mrs. Pampinelli. No, I shouldn’t say so.

Hossefrosse. [Indicating his right cheek] Up here, I mean.

Mrs. Pampinelli. No, I think the contour of your face requires it. It heightens the expression. [She starts across towards the left.] It’s very good. [Hossefrosse comes over and chats with the ladies about his make-up.] Mr. Twiller! [Twiller turns from Mrs. Fell.]

Twiller. Yes? [Turning back to Mrs. Fell] Excuse me, Nelly.

Mrs. Fell. Certainly.

Mrs. Pampinelli. How is your mustache?

Twiller. [Touching it gingerly] All right, I think.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Is it quite secure?

Twiller. I think so. [Mrs. Ritter, Florence and Hossefrosse turn and look.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Stepping back a step from him and looking at the mustache, with her head tilted a bit to the left side] You’ve made it a little smaller, haven’t you?

Twiller. [Touching the left side of his mustache] I cut it down a bit on this side.

Mrs. Pampinelli. I thought you had.

Twiller. I was a little conscious of it.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well,—I don’t know but that it’s better for the characterization.

Twiller. And how are my eyes? [He turns and looks out and away off, widening his eyes as though he were having his picture taken.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [After looking keenly at his eyes for a second] Very effective. [She turns quickly away towards the right, and Twiller turns back to his left to Mrs. Fell.] Now, is everybody ready? [They all smile and nod.] Your gloves and cane, Mr. Hossefrosse?

Hossefrosse. [Crossing above Florence and Mrs. Ritter towards Mrs. Pampinelli, extending his cane and gloves] Yes.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning towards Mrs. Fell] Places, Nelly! Get ready, Mr. Spindler!

Spindler. I’m all ready. [Mrs. Fell closes the manuscript, excuses herself to Twiller, and crosses, above him, towards the right. He goes back at the left and says something to Spindler, then comes forward again.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Calling through the left door] Are you all right, Teddy?

Teddy. [Beyond the flats, over at the right] All right. [As Mrs. Fell passes above Florence and Mrs. Ritter, on her way over to the right, she whispers something to them which causes a general laugh:—then she continues on over to the door at the right and takes up her official position, as promptress.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning and addressing them generally] Now, is everybody all right? [They all nod.] You both all right, girls? [Mrs. Ritter nods.]

Florence. All right.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning around to the left to Mr. Spindler, and with an authoritative gesture] All right, then—take up the curtain!

Spindler. [Waving his hand to the stage manager] All right, Stage Manager!

Stage Manager. [Getting up, very reluctantly] Are you ready?

Mrs. Pampinelli and Spindler, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Yes, all ready.

Spindler. Let her go!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [With a kind of ceremonious flourish of the hand] Take up the curtain! [The stage manager tosses his newspaper onto the chair and steps out of sight, to the left. There is an anxious pause. Then Mrs. Pampinelli starts violently and grabs the knob of the left door.] Oh, wait one moment! [Spindler rushes back at the left, whistling.]

Florence, Mrs. Ritter, Twiller and Hossefrosse, together, [as Mrs. Pampinelli pulls open the left door.]

Florence. Wait a minute!

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, wait!

Twiller. Hold it!

Hossefrosse. [Grabbing the door and holding it open] Not yet!

Mrs. Ritter. [Calling to the stage manager] Just a minute!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Going in through the left door] One moment, please! [She vanishes to the right, and there is a slight pause, during which the curtain, which had been raised four feet, can be seen through the door to descend again. They all exchange looks of distress and amused annoyance. Then Mrs. Pampinelli hurries out through the door again.] All right!

Spindler. [Who has come forward at the left] Is it all right? [Hossefrosse releases the door and it closes.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Yes, it’s all right. [Spindler goes towards the back at the left and she follows him half-way.]

Spindler. All right, Mr. Stage Manager!

Stage Manager. [Off at the left] Are you ready?

Mrs. Pampinelli and Spindler, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Yes, all ready, Mr. Stage Manager!

Spindler. Let her go!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning and coming forward at the left] Take it up! [She stands just to the left of the left door, peering through the flats. Spindler is farther back at the left, peering, also; and Mrs. Fell is over at the right door, peering. There is a pause. Mr. Hossefrosse takes up his position outside the left door, preparatory to making his entrance. He settles his clothes generally, and clears his throat.] The curtain is going up, Mr. Hossefrosse, go on.

Hossefrosse. Is it up?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Yes, yes, go on! [He opens the door, rather magnificently, and swings in. There is a ripple of applause, and the door closes after him; and they all try to find a crevice between the flats that will afford a glimpse of the stage beyond. The stage manager appears from the left carrying a regulation door-slam, which he brings forward and drops, with a bang, just to the left of the left door. They all turn and look at him, in resentful astonishment, but he simply gives them a look of infinite disdain and returns to his chair at the back to read.]

Hossefrosse. [Beyond the flats] Anybody here, David?

Teddy. [Beyond the flats, over toward the right] No, sir.

Hossefrosse. [Beyond the flats, moving towards the right] No telephones?

Teddy. No, sir.

Hossefrosse. [Coming through the right door, without his hat] Nothing at all, eh? [Mrs. Ritter is standing right in front of the door.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Get away from the door, Paula! [Paula jumps to the left. Mrs. Fell takes advantage of the crevice caused by the door being open, to try to see the audience.]

Teddy. [Who can be seen through the open door standing at the desk] No, sir.

Hossefrosse. [Leaning over and laying his cane and gloves on the chair between the doors] All right, sir. [The door begins to swing to behind him.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Keep that door open, Mr. Hossefrosse! [Spindler comes forward at the left to see what’s the matter. Hossefrosse thrusts his foot back and kicks the door open.]

Hossefrosse. And I think that will do very nicely for this day. [The door begins slowly to swing to again.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. There it goes again, Mr. Hossefrosse!

Hossefrosse. It won’t stay open! [Mrs. Fell looks around the door.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Take hold of that door, Nelly! [Nelly puts one foot around it, and stands looking at her manuscript. Spindler goes back at the left and looks through the wings again, at the stage.]

Hossefrosse. [In a frantic whisper] Telephone!

Mrs. Fell. Telephone, somebody!

Hossefrosse. Good Lord!

Florence. Mr. Spindler, telephone! [Spindler rushes forward at the left.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Where is he?

Spindler. What?

Florence. The telephone-bell!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Where’s your bell?

Spindler. [Pulling the battery-arrangement out of his pocket] Has the cue been given?

Teddy. [Picking up the telephone on the desk beyond the flats] Hello?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Ring it! Of course it’s been given! [He rings the bell, and Hossefrosse steps through the right door and watches Teddy anxiously.]

Spindler. I didn’t hear it!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Annihilating him with a look, and starting over towards the right door] Well, why aren’t you over here when your cue’s given and then you would hear it! [Spindler trails over after her.]

Hossefrosse. [Over his shoulder, to Mrs. Pampinelli] Shush!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning sharply back towards the left, and directly to Spindler, who is right behind her] Shush! [She passes below him and continues towards the left.] Keep away from that door, they’ll see you! [In attempting to keep out of the way of the door, Spindler turns sharply and trips over the screw of a stage-brace, falling his length across the open door. Mrs. Ritter gives a little scream, and Mrs. Pampinelli whirls round and glares at him. He scrambles to his feet, and Mrs. Ritter giggles and pulls him to the left, away from the door.]

Hossefrosse. [Standing in the open door, addressing Teddy] Mrs. A.? [Teddy nods, and Hossefrosse pretends to pick up an imaginary telephone from a desk just to the left of the right door.] Yes? All right. [He pretends to hang up and set the telephone down on the desk again.] You can clear out of here now, David, any time you like,—Mrs. Arlington is on her way up.

Teddy. [Rising, and settling the various papers on the desk] All right.

Mrs. Ritter. [Helping Mr. Spindler to brush off his clothes] Did you hurt yourself, Mr. Spindler? [Mrs. Pampinelli tries to attract Spindler’s attention to the door-slam.]

Spindler. No. [He hurries over to the door-slam at the left and picks it up.]

Hossefrosse. I’ll let you off early Monday. [Florence stands anxiously outside the left door.]

Teddy. Oh, that’s all right.

Hossefrosse. And don’t forget to leave that list with the Robinson people on your way down Monday.

Teddy. No, sir, I won’t; I have it right here in me pocket. [Florence puts her lips against the left door and coughs hard. Then she shuffles her feet; so does Spindler. Hossefrosse steps through the right door and looks over toward the left door.]

Hossefrosse. [Addressing Teddy, in a subdued tone] Is that someone coming?

Teddy. [Looking toward the left door] I think so. [There is a slight pause, then Mrs. Pampinelli makes a decisive movement to Spindler and he brings the door-slam down with a thunderous bang. Mrs. Pampinelli starts violently.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. That’s too loud, Mr. Spindler!

Spindler. There’s too much wood in it! [He starts across to the right.]

Hossefrosse. [Stepping down to Teddy’s desk and picking up his hat] That can’t be Mrs. Arlington already. I won’t see anyone else. [He starts back towards the door.] Tell them I’ve gone; and don’t let anybody wait. [He takes hold of the door as he steps through.] Say you’re just locking up the office. [He comes through the door and tries to close it, but Nelly’s foot is still around it, and she is lost in the manuscript. He pulls at the door, but she is oblivious.]

Mrs. Ritter. Nelly! [Spindler gives a little whistle to attract her attention.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Let go of the door, Nelly!

Mrs. Fell. [Jumping out of the way, to the right] Oh, I beg your pardon! [Hossefrosse scowls at her and closes the door. Spindler jumps to the door and turns a key, which he has in his hand, in the lock, then touches the button at the end of the cord, extinguishing the row of lights over the door, then rushes back towards the left door. Mrs. Ritter is right in his way as he rushes back, and they dodge each other twice before Mr. Spindler can get past. When he reaches the left door, he raps violently, Mrs. Pampinelli directing his activities with little nervous gestures. There is a pause: then the left door is opened by Teddy. Mrs. Ritter is right in front of it.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Standing to the left of the door] Get out of the way, Paula! [Mrs. Ritter jumps out of the way, to the right, then looks back at Mrs. Pampinelli and giggles, but Mrs. Pampinelli puts her finger on her lips.]

Florence. [Passing through the left door] Good evening, son.

Teddy. [Reaching out and closing the door] Good evening. [There is prolonged applause from beyond the flats, and everybody, having seen Florence safely through the door, rushes to his favorite crevice between the wings, or rip in the scenery, to see how she is being received by the audience.]

Florence. [Beyond the flats] Isn’t the Doctor in?

Teddy. No, mam, he ain’t; he went about six o’clock.

Florence. That’s unfortunate, I wanted to see him. [Hossefrosse turns away from the right door, where he’s been peeking, and mops his brow: then he turns and puts his hat down on the chair.]

Spindler. [Stepping towards him from the left door] How do you feel?

Hossefrosse. All right; but that door and that telephone got me kind of rattled.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Looking over from the extreme left of the back flat, where she has been peeking] Shush, boys! [Hossefrosse turns away and tiptoes towards the right, and the others resume their peeking.]

Mrs. Fell. [Turning to Hossefrosse, as he passes below her] What’s the matter, Huxley, did something go wrong? [Mrs. Pampinelli looks over again to see who’s talking.]

Hossefrosse. [Indicating the right door] That door kind of got me rattled for a minute.

Mrs. Fell. I don’t think the audience noticed it.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Shush! [Nelly consults her manuscript, listening at the same time to the dialogue beyond the flats, and Mr. Hossefrosse continues to the extreme right and forward, trying to make the squeak of his new shoes as inaudible as possible. Mrs. Pampinelli puts her ear to the flat and listens keenly.]

Teddy. [Faintly, beyond the flats] Why, he always asts me to wait whenever he’s expectin’ his wife downtown. [Spindler suddenly turns from the wing where he has been peeking, and, breaking into quite a jaunty little whistle, starts across towards the left; but Mrs. Pampinelli turns abruptly and glares him into silence. He clasps his hand over his mouth and apologizes with an obsequious little gesture.]

Florence. [Beyond the flats] I see. And he was expecting her this evening?

Teddy. Yes, mam.

Florence. Do you know her? [Spindler trips and almost falls over the stage-screw in the floor at the left. Twiller, who has been standing down at the extreme left, makes an impatient move and goes up towards the back.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, Mr. Spindler, for Pity’s sake do keep still for one moment!

Spindler. [Squatting down and attempting to remove the screw] We’d better get this thing out of here, before somebody gets hurt.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Now, don’t take that out of there, Mr. Spindler! You might loosen the scenery.

Spindler. This isn’t connected with the scenery.

Mrs. Pampinelli. You don’t know whether it is or not! Leave it where it is.

Spindler. [Getting up and moving over towards the right] Somebody’s going to get their neck broken, the first thing you know.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Very well, then, that will be their misfortune! We’ve simply got to be careful, that’s all. Get ready, Paula. [Mrs. Ritter giggles and takes up her position outside the left door.]

Mrs. Fell. [As Spindler comes towards her] What’s the matter, Mr. Spindler?

Spindler. [In quite a temper, and indicating the stage-screw over at the left] Why, that thing there is sticking right up in the middle of the floor, and the first thing you—

Mrs. Pampinelli. Shush!—[He turns and scowls at her, and she glares at him. He passes below Mrs. Fell and over to Hossefrosse, at the extreme right and forward, where he whispers his grievance.]

Mrs. Fell. You all right, Paula? [Paula nods yes.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Don’t be nervous, now, Paula. [Twiller comes forward at the left.]

Mrs. Ritter. I’m not the least bit, dear, really.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, that’s splendid, dear. I’ll open the door for you. [She takes hold of the knob of the left door.]

Mrs. Ritter. All right, thank you. [They stand listening, keenly.]

Florence. [Beyond the flats] Do you mind if I wait a few minutes, in case he comes?

Teddy. [Beyond the flats] Why, I was just going home.

Florence. Oh, were you? [Twiller lifts his hat and gives it a little wave at Mrs. Ritter, and she waves her hand back at him.]

Teddy. Yes, mam; and I have to lock up the office before I go.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Suddenly] There it is now, dear. [She opens the door, and Mrs. Ritter steps back a bit, in order to make a more effective entrance.] Good luck, darling.

Mrs. Ritter. [Turning to her] Thank you, dear. [She steps through the door, tripping awkwardly over the door-strip. Mrs. Pampinelli makes a gesture of extreme annoyance. There is an outburst of applause; then Mrs. Pampinelli closes the door, and they all step to the flats and peek through, Mrs. Pampinelli at the left door, Mrs. Fell at the right, Mr. Spindler between them, and Hossefrosse and Twiller about half-way back at the right and left, respectively. There is a pause; and then Mrs. Ritter can be heard beyond the flats.] Hello, kid!

Teddy. Hello, Mrs. Arlington.

Mrs. Ritter. Is my sweetie in?

Teddy. No, mam, he ain’t.

Mrs. Ritter. [With an unnatural inflection] What!

Mrs. Fell. [Calling over in a whisper to Mrs. Pampinelli] Betty! [Mrs. Pampinelli doesn’t hear her, so she tiptoes over towards her.] Betty!

Mrs. Pampinelli. What?

Mrs. Fell. Did Paula trip?

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Coming away from the flat, and moving down to Mrs. Fell] Yes. [Mrs. Fell gives an annoyed shake of her head.] But I don’t see how anyone can get onto that stage without tripping.

Mrs. Fell. I don’t either.

Mrs. Pampinelli. It seems an utter impossibility to me for anyone, especially a woman, to get through those doors without catching her heel or her skirt or something. [Spindler crosses to the left, back of the ladies, and speaks to Twiller.]

Mrs. Fell. [Returning to the right door] It’s dreadful!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning to her left and going back again to the left door] I don’t see the necessity of it.

Mrs. Fell. [Opening her manuscript] I don’t either.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Listening keenly] I’m afraid they’re not hearing Paula at all.

Mrs. Fell. What?

Mrs. Pampinelli. I say, I’m afraid Paula isn’t loud enough.

Mrs. Fell. Well, why don’t you speak to her, Betty, she’s sitting right here. [She indicates the point right inside the right door, and Mrs. Pampinelli, picking up her skirt, hurries over. Mrs. Fell steps out of the way, to the right.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Putting her lips to the joining of the door-wing and the side wing] Speak a little louder, Paula! I’m afraid they’re not hearing you!

Mrs. Fell. Can she hear you?

Mrs. Pampinelli. A little louder, dear! [The right door is thrust open by Teddy.]

Teddy. [In a frantic whisper] There’s no pen and ink on the desk! [Spindler rushes over from the left.]

Spindler. What? [Mrs. Pampinelli, Mrs. Fell and Mr. Hossefrosse rush round to him from the right.]

Teddy. No pen and ink!

Mrs. Pampinelli. What is it, Teddy?

Teddy and Spindler, together.

Teddy. No pen and ink on the desk!

Spindler. No pen and ink!

Mrs. Pampinelli. My God!

Mrs. Fell. Tell her to use a lead-pencil!

Teddy and Mrs. Pampinelli, together.

Teddy.—[To Mrs. Fell] There’s none on there!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Give him a lead-pencil, Mr. Spindler!

Spindler. [Whirling and springing towards the left] Haven’t got one! [Teddy, Mrs. Pampinelli and Mrs. Fell rush after him.]

Spindler and Mrs. Pampinelli, together.

Spindler. Twiller!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, dear, dear!

Twiller. [Rushing towards them from the left] What’s the matter?

Spindler and Teddy, together.

Spindler. Got a lead-pencil?

Teddy. Give him a lead-pencil, Ralph!

Twiller. [Dropping his cane] No! [They fling him out of the way, to the left, and rush on back to the stage manager.] What are you trying to do, knock me off my feet!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Haven’t you got one, Mr. Twiller?

Spindler and Mrs. Fell, together.

Spindler. [To the stage manager] Got a lead-pencil, old man?

Mrs. Fell. [At Mrs. Pampinelli’s heels] There’s one in my bag somewhere!

Mrs. Pampinelli, Spindler and Teddy, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning to Mrs. Fell] See what they’re doing out there, Nelly!

Spindler. [To the stage manager] Or a fountain-pen!

Teddy. [To the stage manager] They need it on the stage!

Mrs. Fell and Stage Manager, together.

Mrs. Fell. [Turning and rushing back towards the right door] Certainly, darling!

Stage Manager. [Feeling in his shirt-pockets] Well, now, wait a minute, wait a minute!

Mrs. Fell. [Turning with a despairing gesture, after having opened the right door and looked in] My dear, they’re not doing a thing, they’re just sitting there!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning to the left] Hurry, boys! [Turning to the right] Tell them to say something, Nelly! Anything at all! Something about the weather! [Nelly runs to the extreme right end of the flat. Teddy and Spindler come rushing forward at the left.] Did you get it, Teddy?

Teddy and Spindler, together.

Teddy. Yes!

Spindler. Yes, he’s got it!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Indicating the left door] Go on here, Teddy! [He grabs the knob of the door, but it won’t open.]

Mrs. Fell. [Calling through the flats] Say something, Paula!

Mrs. Pampinelli. You should never leave the stage during a scene, Teddy!

Teddy and Mrs. Fell, together.

Teddy. [Wrestling with the door] Damn these doors!

Mrs. Fell. [Calling through the flats] Something about the weather!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Take hold of this, Mr. Spindler! [He grabs the knob of the door and Teddy runs across to the right door.]

Teddy. I’ll go on here!

Mrs. Fell. [As Teddy goes through the right door] If you can’t use one door, use the other! [The door closes after him; and Mrs. Pampinelli turns and looks upon Spindler, who is still trying to get the left door open.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. You know, this is all your fault, Mr. Spindler. [He doesn’t look up.] You said you’d attend to all those properties!

Mrs. Fell. What’s the matter with the door, Betty?

Mrs. Pampinelli. [To Spindler] Never mind it now. [She moves towards the center of the stage.]

Spindler. We’d better get it open before somebody has to use it again.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Go away from it, I tell you! [He walks away towards the left, sulking.] It will probably open all right from the other side. [She comes forward slowly, touching her hair and relaxing generally, then, suddenly, stands stock-still, and listens, wide-eyed. She looks quickly at Mrs. Fell, who is carefully settling her necklace, at the right door.] What’s wrong out there, Nelly? [Nelly turns and looks through the flats, then turns quickly to Mrs. Pampinelli.]

Mrs. Fell. I think he’s up!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Frozen to the spot] Who? [Nelly looks again, and then back to Mrs. Pampinelli.]

Mrs. Fell. All of them!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Picking up her skirt and rushing towards the right door] Let me see! [Nelly jumps out of the way, to the right, and Twiller and Spindler rush to the left door and peek through. Mrs. Pampinelli peeks through, and then speaks through the flats.] What’s the matter, Teddy? Go over and get your hat and coat! [Turning frantically to Mrs. Fell] He’s up in his lines! What is it?

Mrs. Fell. [In a panic] Up in his lines!

Mrs. Pampinelli and Mrs. Fell, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Speaking through the flats] Go over and get your hat and coat, Teddy! Don’t stand there like a jack!

Mrs. Fell. [Handing the manuscript to Hossefrosse, who is at her right] Oh, find that for me, will you, Huxley! [He takes the manuscript from her and turns it over furiously, while Nelly opens her lorgnon.] About page eleven, I think it is! [She assists him in finding the place.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. What was the last line, Nelly? This is dreadful!

Mrs. Fell. Now, wait a moment, darling! Don’t get me nervous, or I’ll never be able to find it! [Twiller and Spindler are in a panic of suspense over at the left door.]

Hossefrosse. Here’s page eleven.

Mrs. Fell. Is that eleven? Well, now, here it is, right here— Why, a— I’ll get you an envelope!

Mrs. Pampinelli. What’s the next?

Mrs. Fell. The next is—a—why a—I’ve got to go now—

Mrs. Fell and Mrs. Pampinelli, together.

Mrs. Fell. It takes me nearly an hour to get home!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Calling through the flats] I’ve got to go now!

Teddy and Mrs. Pampinelli, together.

Teddy. [Beyond the flats] I’ve got to go now!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Calling through the flats] It takes me nearly an hour to get home.

Teddy. It takes me an hour to get home!

Mrs. Fell. Are they all right?

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Coming away from the flats] Yes, they’re all right now. But you’d better stand right here, I’m afraid of Paula. [She moves towards the left.]

Spindler. [Coming towards her] You know, I could have sworn I put a pen and ink on that desk!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Imperiously] Please, Mr. Spindler, don’t explain anything! I am interested in results. [She turns and moves back again towards the right, and Spindler goes over to the left. Just as he passes beyond the left door, the entire lock and knob fall to the floor. He turns nervously, only to find Mrs. Pampinelli, who has turned quite as nervously, looking at him dangerously.]

Spindler. I didn’t touch it!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Will you go away, before you ruin the entire performance! [He snaps around and goes over to the left and up towards the back.]

Teddy. [Opening the left door and swaying through] Good night. [He is dressed in a brown sack-suit and wears tan shoes.]

Florence. [Beyond the flats] Good night, son.

Mrs. Ritter. [Beyond the flats] Good night, kid.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Going towards him] You should never walk off the stage, Teddy, in the middle of a scene! [He closes the door behind him, and, pressing his hand to his brow, starts towards the left.] Do something, no matter what it is! [He falls backward in a full-length faint. She catches him.] Oh, dear child! Mr. Spindler! Come here, Mr. Twiller, Teddy’s fainted! [Twiller, who has been standing over at the left, and forward, rushes towards her; and Mrs. Fell, followed by Hossefrosse, comes rushing from the right.]

Mrs. Fell. [In a panic] What’s the matter, Betty!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Take Teddy over to the door, Mr. Twiller, he’s fainted!

Twiller. [Dropping his cane, in his excitement] I can’t take him now, I’ve got a cue coming right here in a minute! [Spindler comes rushing down from the left.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Here, Mr. Spindler, take Teddy over to the door, where he’ll get some air! He’s sick. Look at the color of him. [She hands him to Spindler, who half carries him up at the left; and she and Twiller follow on behind them.] Hold on to him, now, Mr. Spindler.

Mrs. Fell. [Turning back towards the right door, and addressing Hossefrosse, who has returned to his former position down at the right] I always said he wasn’t strong enough for that part! [She just gets past the right door when it is frantically opened and Mrs. Ritter thrusts her head out.]

Mrs. Ritter. [Breathlessly] Mr. Twiller! [The door closes again.]

Mrs. Fell. [Running towards the left] Mr. Twiller! They’re waiting for you!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Rushing forward at the left] What is it?

Mrs. Fell. [In a perfect frenzy] They’re waiting for Mr. Twiller!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Mr. Twiller! [He snatches up his cane from the floor, but the hook of it catches in the stage-brace, and he has considerable yanking to do to get it loose. Mrs. Fell raps on the left door.] Go on, Mr. Twiller, for Heaven’s sake! the stage is waiting! [She pulls the door open for him. He straightens his hat and then raps on the wing beside the door.] Oh, go on! never mind rapping! that’s been done! [He steps through the door and she slams it after him, catching his left arm and hand. The cane is in his left hand, and it falls at Mrs. Pampinelli’s feet. She pulls the door open again to release his arm; then gives the door a definite slam. A burst of applause greets Twiller’s entrance. Mrs. Pampinelli is in a perfect wrath. She sweeps across towards the right, and back again all the way across to the left; then turns and starts back towards the right. As she passes the left door she sees Twiller’s cane, and, realizing in a flash that he will have need of it in his scene, she picks it up, opens the left door slightly, and flings it in onto the stage. Then she continues on towards the right, turns and crosses back again to the left, holding up her skirt and bristling with temper.]

Mrs. Fell. [Back at the right door, speaking to Hossefrosse, down at the right] How are my eyes? Instead of paying attention to his part!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Coming across to the right] People rehearsing their cues a thousand times, and then don’t know them when they hear them! It’s positively disgusting! [She turns and goes back again to the left, turns, and starts back to the right. Hossefrosse tiptoes towards her.]

Hossefrosse. What happened to Teddy, did he get sick out there?

Mrs. Pampinelli. No, just a little reaction. [Hossefrosse nods comprehendingly.] He gives too much to the scene. He doesn’t understand emotional conservation yet. [Hossefrosse shakes his head knowingly and returns to the right, and Mrs. Pampinelli steps to the left door and listens.]

Florence. [Just audibly, beyond the flats] She’s waiting for my very unpunctual husband. In fact, we are both waiting for him, to be precise. But I’ve just been telling her I’m afraid we may as well give it up, for he’s never kept an appointment in his life. I’m sorry he isn’t here, if you wanted to see him.

Twiller. [Beyond the flats] I don’t know whether I wanted to see him or not; it depends.

Florence. I don’t understand you.

Twiller. I don’t fully understand myself! [There is a very general laugh from beyond the flats. Mrs. Pampinelli looks anxiously at Nelly, and Nelly looks up at her from the manuscript.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. What was that?

Mrs. Fell. [Not having caught what she said] What?

Mrs. Pampinelli. What was that the audience was laughing at? [Mrs. Fell peeks through at the door where she is standing, then turns desperately to Mrs. Pampinelli.]

Mrs. Fell. Half of Mr. Twiller’s mustache fell off! [She looks through the peek again. Mrs. Pampinelli puts her hand against her brow and leans upon the stage-brace, the picture of tragedy. Mrs. Fell turns to her again.] I don’t think the audience noticed it, he stuck it right on again!

Mrs. Pampinelli. That doesn’t matter, there is absolutely no excuse for it! He’s been here since four o’clock this afternoon! [She crosses towards the left and back again.]

Florence. [Beyond the flats] What sort of a rumor was it, Mr. Rush, if I may ask?

Twiller. [Beyond the flats] The usual kind. [There’s another laugh from beyond the flats, and Mrs. Pampinelli stands petrified, just below the left door. Mrs. Fell turns quickly and peeks, then turns to Mrs. Pampinelli.]

Mrs. Fell. [Despairingly] It fell off again! [Mrs. Pampinelli raises her fists and shakes them.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, why on earth hasn’t he brains enough to leave it off!

Mrs. Fell. He has his hat on, too! [Mrs. Pampinelli steps to the left door and speaks through it.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Leave your mustache off, Mr. Twiller! Leave it off!—And take off your hat, you’re inside. [Hossefrosse tiptoes over from the right.]

Hossefrosse. What’s the matter, did his mustache fall off?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Yes, twice; and he keeps sticking it on again. [He shakes his head regretfully and tiptoes back to the right.]

Mrs. Ritter. [Beyond the flats] It’s perfectly ridiculous!

Florence. [Beyond the flats] Too bad my husband isn’t here.

Twiller. [Beyond the flats] Yes, it is; I had counted upon seeing him.

Florence. I’m sure he’d be able to explain.

Twiller. Well, I hope he would!—the thing is damned annoying! [Mrs. Ritter gives an unearthly laugh, which is supposed to express derision. Mrs. Fell looks up from her manuscript, and Mrs. Pampinelli smiles and nods approvingly at her.] Even if you don’t appreciate it!

Mrs. Fell. Wonderful. [She turns and smiles and nods at Hossefrosse; then they all listen again. The stage manager, who has arisen from his chair at the sound of Mrs. Ritter’s disdainful laughter, comes forward at the left, with his pipe in one hand and his newspaper in the other. He has a puzzled, inquiring expression, and looks from one to the other quizzically; but Mrs. Pampinelli has her back to him, Mrs. Fell is looking at her manuscript, and Mr. Hossefrosse’s face is, as usual, utterly expressionless, so he steps to the juncture of the back flats with the side wings and peeks through, curiously. Then he returns to his chair up at the left, shaking his head from side to side.]

Mrs. Ritter. [Beyond the flats] I don’t know what it is, yet!

Twiller. [Beyond the flats] You know very well what it is!

Mrs. Ritter. You haven’t told us.

Twiller. You’re here, aren’t you!

Mrs. Ritter. Yes.

Twiller. Well, that’s it, exactly! [Mrs. Pampinelli smiles approvingly, and moves towards the right.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Calling Hossefrosse, who is engaged in studying his lines from a paper, over at the right] Mr. Hossefrosse.

Mrs. Fell. [Turning to him] Huxley! [He looks up, and tiptoes towards Mrs. Pampinelli.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. How is this hall to speak in?

Hossefrosse. Why, I shouldn’t say it was good.

Mrs. Pampinelli. I thought not.

Hossefrosse. It’s too big for the speaking voice.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [With a gesture] You have to project the tone, do you not?

Hossefrosse. Oh, yes, absolutely.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Taking a step towards the back flat, and listening] I’m afraid they’re not hearing Paula at all.

Hossefrosse. [Putting his fingers to his throat] I’m using my upper register almost entirely.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Glancing at him] You’re very fortunate to know how to do it.

Hossefrosse. Did it sound all right from back here?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, splendid, yes, Mr. Hossefrosse!—your voice is beautiful. [He raises his hand deprecatingly.] Really,—I was just saying to Mrs. Fell, I’m so sorry there isn’t another act, that you might sing a solo between them. [He beams and deprecates again, profusely, and turns to the right. Spindler comes down at the left and towards Mrs. Pampinelli.] Really! Splendid. [She sees Spindler.] Where’s Teddy?

Spindler. He’s gone over to the drug store.

Mrs. Pampinelli. With his make-up on?

Spindler. He said he wanted to get some aromatic spirits of ammonia.

Mrs. Pampinelli. You have a cue right here soon, haven’t you?

Spindler. [Taking the telephone-arrangement from his pocket, and crossing towards the right door] Where are they?

Mrs. Fell. [Suddenly looking up from her manuscript] Telephone, Mr. Spindler!

Mrs. Pampinelli. There it is now, ring it!

Spindler. [Shaking it desperately] It won’t ring! [Mrs. Fell turns to Hossefrosse in desperation.]

Mrs. Pampinelli, Mrs. Fell and Hossefrosse, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Shake it harder, it rang before!

Mrs. Fell. What’s the matter with the fool thing!

Hossefrosse. Hit it against something, Mr. Spindler!

Spindler. There’s something the matter with the battery!

Florence. [Audibly, from beyond the flats] Hello!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Relaxing] Let it go,—it’s too late now. [Spindler continues to tinker with it.] You’ve missed every other cue, [She moves towards the left.] you may as well be consistent for the rest of the evening.

Spindler. [Following her] Well, good night! I can’t help it if the electricity won’t work, can I?

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning upon him furiously] You should have attended to it beforehand and then it would work! [Mrs. Fell waves her hand at them, to be quiet.]

Spindler. Well, My God! I can’t be in a half-a-dozen places at the same time!

Mrs. Fell. Shush! [Hossefrosse tiptoes up to her and deplores the noise that Mrs. Pampinelli and Spindler are making.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. No one is asking you to be in half-a-dozen places at the same time! You’ve simply been asked to attend to your cues; and you’ve missed every one you’ve had!

Mrs. Fell and Hossefrosse, together. Shush!

Spindler. You told me to take care of Teddy, didn’t you?

Mrs. Pampinelli. I told you to take him to the door! I didn’t say to take him all the way to the drug store!

Spindler. Did you want me to let the man wander off somewhere by himself, and maybe die!

Mrs. Fell. [Waving her manuscript at them] Shus—sh!

Mrs. Pampinelli and Spindler, together.

Spindler. Just for the sake of not missing a cue!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [With bitter amusement] There is very little danger of his dying! And even if he did die, your duty is here! [She points to the floor with an imperative gesture. The right door is quietly pushed open, and Twiller, with one-half of his mustache gone, pokes his head out.]

Twiller. Shush! [He glances from one side to the other, withdraws his head, and quietly closes the door. Spindler crosses below Mrs. Pampinelli, to the left, then turns and looks at her angrily.]

Mrs. Fell. [Turning to Hossefrosse] What did I tell you! Making more noise out here than they are out there!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Still holding her gesture, but following Spindler with her eyes] Performances are never interrupted simply because one of the artists happens to die! If you were a professional you’d know that; but you’re not! [She turns away from him, towards the right, and, simultaneously, the left door is opened, almost striking her. She raises her arm to protect herself. Mrs. Ritter is standing in the doorway.]

Mrs. Ritter. [Speaking to Twiller, who is still beyond the flats] Look and see. [The telephone-arrangement in Spindler’s hands suddenly rings wildly.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning to him frantically] Oh, stop that thing! [Mrs. Ritter glances furtively over her left shoulder at Mrs. Pampinelli. Mrs. Fell comes rushing over, motioning to Spindler to stop the bell.]

Spindler. [Struggling with the bell] I can’t stop it! [Mrs. Ritter hastily steps back through the door and pulls it to after her.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, then, take it outside, where they can’t hear it! [Spindler scrambles towards the back and out of sight at the left. Mrs. Pampinelli starts back towards the right.]

Mrs. Fell. What’s the matter with that Spindler man, anyway!

Mrs. Pampinelli. I don’t know what’s the matter with him! I’ve given up thinking about him.

Mrs. Fell. He acts to me like a person that wouldn’t be in his right mind! [She goes back towards the right door.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Standing in the middle of the stage] He’s simply not a professional, that’s all. [The left door opens again and Mrs. Ritter is standing in it. Mrs. Pampinelli turns suddenly and looks at her. Mrs. Ritter repeats her unearthly laugh, which again arouses the curiosity of the stage manager, to the extent that he rises and comes forward again at the left to get a look at her. Then he returns to his chair, taking the door-slam with him, and standing it against the wing.]

Mrs. Ritter. [Addressing Twiller, beyond the flats] What about the gentlemen?

Florence. [Beyond the flats] Jealous husbands, chiefly, aren’t they? [Twiller comes out through the left door, past Mrs. Ritter.] Didn’t you want to leave a message for the Doctor, Mr. Rush? [Twiller turns right round and goes back to the door.]

Twiller. Who, me?

Florence. If you wish.

Mrs. Ritter. [Having some difficulty seeing Florence over Twiller’s right shoulder] He might leave an apology.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Very much annoyed, and stepping close to the flat, just to the right of the door] Get out of the doorway, Mr. Twiller!

Florence. [Beyond the flats] Perhaps we haven’t convinced him of his mistake.

Mrs. Pampinelli and Mrs. Ritter, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Trying desperately to attract Twiller’s attention, and becoming more emphatic] Get out of the doorway, Mr. Twiller, you’re covering Paula up!

Mrs. Ritter. [Trying to talk to Florence over Twiller’s shoulder] Well, he’ll apologize to me, whether we’ve convinced him or not. [Mrs. Fell and Hossefrosse come over to see if they can be of any assistance.]

Mrs. Pampinelli and Twiller, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Becoming desperate] Paula! [Paula gives her a nervous glance.] Will one of you go farther in! Mr. Twiller!

Twiller. [Addressing Florence] Have you convinced yourselves? [He gives Mrs. Pampinelli an irritated look over his left shoulder.]

Florence. That there has been a mistake?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Go farther in, one of you! [Twiller gives her another look, then speaks to Florence.]

Twiller. Yes! [Mrs. Pampinelli can contain herself no longer, so, picking up her skirt, and holding her hand against the left side of her head, she darts across the open door, to the left, and speaks to them around the edge of the door. Mrs. Fell, taking advantage of the circumstance of Mrs. Pampinelli’s crossing, tiptoes up to Twiller and strikes him on the left arm, quite viciously, with the rolled manuscript. As a polite remonstrance, he shakes his left hand and foot at her. But, she is not dismayed, and repeats the attack, even more viciously. Then he turns and glares at her, and she turns away towards the right, desperately.]

Florence. A great mistake.

Mrs. Ritter. Disappointed? Because, you know, we can invent a scandal, if you insist.

Mrs. Fell. Oh, what a man! What a man!

Florence and Mrs. Pampinelli, together.

Florence. I’m afraid my presence here would be a bit incongruous, even for that.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Go farther in, Mr. Twiller, don’t both of you stand wedged in the doorway that way, it looks dreadful!

Twiller. [Raising his right arm and resting his hand against the jamb of the door, completely cutting off Mrs. Ritter’s view of Florence] That’s the rub. [Mrs. Ritter stands on her tiptoes to try and see over his arm, but being unsuccessful in this effort, stoops a bit, and tries to look under his arm.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Take your arm down, Mr. Twiller! [Mrs. Ritter reaches up and quietly but firmly draws Twiller’s arm down. Mrs. Pampinelli turns away to the left, disgusted.] My God! I never gave any such direction as that!

Florence. Be at ease, Mr. Rush; if you were not mistaken I should have known it,—and so should you; I’m not a tragic woman. Did you want to leave any message for the Doctor, Mrs. Rush?

Mrs. Ritter. [At Twiller’s right] Yes,—[Twiller turns his head sharply and looks right into her eyes. She steps around back of him and speaks to Florence over his left shoulder.] I wish you’d say that my husband called—[Twiller turns and looks into her eyes again, and she steps around back of him again, to his right.] for my bill. [She reaches out and starts to draw the door to. Twiller, very ill at ease, and awkwardly looking from side to side, not knowing just how to get out gracefully, makes a full turn round to his right.]

Twiller. [Raising his hat to Florence] Good evening, Mrs. Arlington. [Mrs. Ritter closes the door, causing him to drop his cane; but he’s too excited to notice it.]

Hossefrosse. [Standing at the right door, extending his hand] Great, old man!

Twiller. [Dropping his gloves, as he shakes hands] Thanks. [He continues to the right.]

Mrs. Fell. [As he passes below her] Splendid, Ralph! What happened to your mustache? [She laughs.]

Twiller. Can you beat that, Nelly! I couldn’t coax that thing off before I went on!

Hossefrosse. [Holding the knob of the right door] Shush!

Mrs. Fell. I don’t think the audience noticed it.

Hossefrosse. [Turning to them] Shush! [Twiller goes down to the right, and Mrs. Fell returns to her manuscript. The left door is flung open. They all watch eagerly.]

Mrs. Ritter. [Inside the left door] If you will, please?

Florence. Certainly.

Mrs. Ritter. Thanks.

Florence. Don’t mention it.

Mrs. Ritter. [Trying to appear very bold] Good bye.

Florence. Good bye. [Mrs. Ritter gives another famous laugh, sways through the door, tripping over the door-strip, closes the door, looks at Mrs. Pampinelli, who is standing at the left, and bursts out laughing. There is prolonged applause from beyond the flats.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Splendid, Paula!

Hossefrosse. [Listening intently for his cue, from beyond the flats] Shush-shush! [Mrs. Ritter looks at him, still laughing foolishly.]

Mrs. Fell. [Waving at Paula] Lovely, dear!

Mrs. Ritter. [Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli] I forgot my umbrella.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Where is it?

Mrs. Ritter. I left it on the stage.

Mrs. Pampinelli. That doesn’t matter. [Hossefrosse tries to silence them by dint of impatient gesturing with his right hand.]

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, Betty, I think I saw Clara Sheppard out there!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Not really?

Hossefrosse. Shush!

Florence. [From beyond the flats] You can come out now, Clyde, they’ve gone. [Hossefrosse yanks the right door open, causing the wood-wing at the right to topple and fall forward.]

Twiller. [Leaping to catch it, before it hits Mrs. Fell] Hold it! [Mrs. Fell hunches her arms and shoulders and screams.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Rushing over from the left] What is it?

Twiller. [Struggling to set the wing up in place again] This thing nearly fell! Just got it in time! [Mrs. Fell moves out of the way, over to the left, and Mrs. Pampinelli tries to assist Twiller.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Is it all right now?

Twiller. [Brushing his hands and clothes, and coming forward at the right] Yes, it’s all right now. Just got it in time.

Mrs. Fell. [Rushing up to Mrs. Ritter, who is coming towards her from the left, and shaking her by the arms] Oh, you were marvelous, darling! [Mrs. Ritter giggles foolishly.] I could just hug you!

Mrs. Ritter. I forgot my umbrella.

Mrs. Fell. Wonderful performance! [She steps to the right door and opens her manuscript. Mrs. Ritter moves a little to the right and stands looking at the wood-wing.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning from a more precise adjustment of the wood-wing] Oh, Mr. Twiller!

Twiller. Yes?

Mrs. Pampinelli. How did you and Paula get wedged in that door that way, over there a moment ago?

Twiller. [On Mrs. Pampinelli’s right] Oh, I’m awfully sorry about that! I got a little twisted on— [Mrs. Ritter comes to Mrs. Pampinelli’s left.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning to Mrs. Ritter] I was just asking Mr. Twiller about that business in the door.

Mrs. Pampinelli, Mrs. Ritter and Twiller, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Of course, it really didn’t matter very much.

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, my dear, wasn’t that just too dreadful! But I didn’t know what to do! I knew there was something wrong, but I didn’t know what it was!

Twiller. It was my fault. I got a little twisted there in my business-cues. I got up to the door a couple of speeches too soon.

Mrs. Pampinelli. I don’t think the audience noticed it.

Mrs. Fell. [Frantically searching in the manuscript] Shush!

Mrs. Ritter. Don’t you think they did, Betty?

Mrs. Fell. Shush! [They all turn and look at her. Mrs. Pampinelli steps towards her.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Is somebody up? [Nelly simply silences her with a gesture, and opens the door slightly.]

Mrs. Fell. [Prompting through the door] You’ve all been listening to a lot of damned, cheap gossip!

Hossefrosse. [From beyond the flats] You’ve all been listening to a lot of damned, cheap gossip!

Florence. [Beyond the flats] Which should show you that people are talking.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Somebody up? [Nelly just shakes her head and relaxes.] Mr. Hossefrosse?

Mrs. Fell. The “damned, cheap gossip” line.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Listening keenly] Is he all right again?

Mrs. Fell. Yes, he’s all right now;—but it’s funny how that line has sent him up at every performance.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning to rejoin Mrs. Ritter and Twiller] It’s purely mental.

Hossefrosse. [From beyond the flats, violently] No! [The stage manager, over at the left, jumps to his feet, causing the hammer to fall from his pocket. The door-slam also falls, with a bang. The stage manager has been dozing, and the thunder of Mr. Hossefrosse’s outburst has considerably startled him. He comes forward at the left and looks over at Mrs. Fell, to inquire the cause of the disturbance.]

Mrs. Fell. [Motioning to him with her manuscript] Shush! [He looks about and then goes back and picks up the hammer and door-slam. As he resumes his seat he takes another glance around.]

Mrs. Ritter. [As Mrs. Pampinelli comes forward again at the right, between her and Twiller] You know, I felt like a perfect fool standing there in that door, but I couldn’t catch what you were saying. [Twiller laughs.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, dear, I really don’t think the audience noticed it.

Twiller. I hope they didn’t.

Mrs. Ritter. It must have looked awful.

Mrs. Pampinelli. No, dear, it didn’t, really; you both covered it up very nicely.

Twiller. I tried to cover it up when my mustache fell off, too;—but I had so many lines right in there. I held it on as long as I could, but I was afraid the audience was beginning to notice it.

Mrs. Pampinelli. I was so glad you had the presence of mind not to attempt to stick it on again when it fell off the second time.

Twiller. I was afraid to take the time. I had a cue right there; so when it fell off the second time, I just—let it lie there. [He makes a casual gesture with his right hand.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. That was quite right.

Twiller. [Laughing a little] It’s out there yet.

Mrs. Ritter. [Giggling] So is my umbrella. [They all laugh.] Oh, listen, Betty dear! I think I’ll just run upstairs for a minute and use that telephone—see how Fred is. [She starts towards the left.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Following her] Yes, do, Paula.

Mrs. Ritter. I’m kind of worried about him.

Mrs. Pampinelli. See if he’s regained consciousness yet.

Mrs. Ritter. [Regardless of the fact that a play is in progress] Excuse me!

Mrs. Fell. [Looking up from her manuscript] Shush!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Certainly, dear. [Twiller raises his hat towards her, and she waves back at him. Then he goes up at the right and peeks through the side wings.] Oh, Paula!

Mrs. Ritter. [Turning] Yes, dear?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Be sure and get down in time for the curtains.

Mrs. Ritter. Oh, yes.

Mrs. Pampinelli. I imagine there’ll be a lot of flowers come over.

Mrs. Ritter. [Starting up at the left] I’ll be right down as soon as I telephone.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Yes, do, dear. [Mrs. Ritter goes out at the left, and Mrs. Pampinelli turns, touching her hair, and starts back towards the right. Something falls beyond the flats. She stops dead, and listens. Mrs. Fell turns quickly and peeks through the right door. Twiller comes forward at the right and looks inquiringly.]

Florence. [Just audible beyond the flats] Then, you’ve allowed him to think so.

Mrs. Pampinelli. What’s that?

Florence. [Beyond the flats] Perhaps it is.

Mrs. Fell. [Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli, and quite casually] He knocked the ash-tray over. [Mrs. Pampinelli relaxes, and proceeds to arrange the beaded ornaments on her dress, while Mrs. Fell moves a bit farther over to the right and stands listening, manuscript and lorgnon in hand. Twiller crosses to the left, below Mrs. Fell, and gathers up his gloves and cane.]

Hossefrosse. [Beyond the flats] You are deliberately misinterpreting this situation! Yes you are! It’s perfectly ridiculous that a physician cannot take a woman patient without being subjected to the whisperings of a lot of vulgar scandal-mongers.

Florence. This is not a romantic age, Clyde.

Twiller. [Coming to Mrs. Pampinelli’s right] Was that inflection of mine any better tonight on that line, “I’m puzzled.”?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, very much better, I was listening for it.

Twiller. [Thoughtfully] I never seemed to get the sense of that line until tonight. It just seemed to—come to me, out there on the stage.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, that is a very significant line, Mr. Twiller, coming where it does. [Spindler comes wandering on from the left, comes forward, looks about, and goes up to the side wing and looks through.]

Twiller. I felt a great deal easier in that new business of turning—down at the bookcase that you gave me last night.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [With a touch of smugness] Much better.

Twiller. Did you notice it?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, of course, I couldn’t see it, I was here; but I could sense it; and I could tell from the tone of the scene that it was better. [Spindler moves over to the extreme left, about half-way back, and, taking the refractory telephone-bell-arrangement from his pocket, starts to tinker with it.]

Twiller. I just turned my head this way, [He turns his head sharply to the right, keeping his body and shoulders perfectly rigid.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Excellent.

Twiller. [Turning back to her] Without moving my body.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Very good.

Twiller. Instead of making the full swing around, [He makes a complete swing around on his right foot.] the way I had been doing. [Mrs. Fell raises her lorgnon and looks over, curiously.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. A very good change.

Twiller. [Very seriously] I felt that it got them.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, you see, it gave them the full benefit of your expression. [They nod agreement.]

Twiller. There’s a great deal of light and shade in that part, right in there.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Deprecatingly] Ho! my dear,—it is all light and shade;—even to the gestures. [She makes a Delsartian movement with her arms and hands. Mrs. Fell comes forward a little further and observes the gesture keenly, through her lorgnon.] ....

Twiller. [Rather troubled, and shaking his head a bit] I’ve got to put in a lot of work on my gestures,—they’re bad, I know.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, I shouldn’t exactly say that your gestures were bad; but I think, perhaps——

Twiller. [Leaning heavily on his cane] I—ah—I think I try too hard to be natural.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Smiling, biting her lip, and rolling her eyes] That’s exactly what I was going to say. Your gestures are, in a way, too natural. [She gives a little mirthless laugh, and, out of courtesy, he joins her.] Of course, that is a very virtuous fault; but it isn’t pretty, is it? [She laughs again.]

Twiller. No, it isn’t. [The stage manager gets up, stretches himself, and comes forward at the left.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. And, after all, the function of art is to be pretty, is it not? [She repeats the floating gesture.]

Twiller. [Trying to imitate her] I don’t seem to be able—to do that, the way you do. [Mrs. Fell feels the call, and, putting the manuscript under her arm, tries rather unsuccessfully to copy the movement.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, it is purely a matter of experience, Mr. Twiller. But when you’ve been in the work as long as I have,—you’ll realize that the bird’s-wing gesture is the only gesture. [She illustrates again, for the edification of her disciples; and they attempt rather faithfully to imitate her. The stage manager stands looking at them.]

Florence. [Beyond the flats] But it has its compensations—You’ll have your memories, [There is a confusion of voices from beyond the flats, and cries of “Sit down!”]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Startled] What’s that? [Mrs. Fell rushes to the right door and peeks through, Twiller goes over to the right and up, and the stage manager rushes back to his post and disappears at the left.] What is it, Nelly?

Mrs. Fell. [Turning suddenly to Mrs. Pampinelli] They’re carrying a man out of the audience! [She looks back again through the peek, and Mrs. Pampinelli steps to the left door and peeks. Mrs. Sheppard sweeps on up at the left, and comes forward. She is a slim brunette, in her thirties, very attractive, and wearing the very last whisper in widow’s weeds. She looks around, rather dramatically, then sees the ladies. Mrs. Fell looks away from the peek-hole and sees her.] Betty, there’s Clara!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Looking at Nelly] What?

Mrs. Fell. [Not wishing to be heard] Clara Sheppard. [Mrs. Pampinelli turns quickly.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, Clara! [She goes towards her, and Clara advances a little.] I’m so glad to see you! [Clara breaks down and weeps.] Now, don’t do that, dear. You know Jimmy wouldn’t for anything in the world want you to feel that way. So be brave, honey. It was splendid of you to come here at all. And you look wonderful.

Mrs. Sheppard. I must look perfectly dreadful.

Mrs. Pampinelli. You don’t look anything of the kind, darling, you look perfectly beautiful.

Mrs. Sheppard. All I’ve done is cry.

Mrs. Pampinelli. I know just how you feel.

Mrs. Sheppard. But I didn’t want you to think I’d entirely forsaken the cause.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Oh, my dear, we understood perfectly.

Mrs. Sheppard. But I just felt I had to come here tonight.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Have you been out in front, Clara?

Mrs. Sheppard. Yes, I just had to see it. I don’t think anybody saw me; I came in late, and stood way at the back.

Mrs. Pampinelli. They’d hardly see you.

Mrs. Sheppard. I don’t think so; I kept my veil lowered. Of course, I should love to have been right down in front, where I could get all those wonderful little subtleties. But, you know how it is,—I was afraid people might not understand my being here at all. It’s only three weeks, you know.

Mrs. Pampinelli. They wouldn’t, either.

Mrs. Sheppard. That’s what I thought.

Mrs. Pampinelli. I don’t suppose there’s one person in ten thousand that has dramatic instinct enough to appreciate the way you feel. [She turns to the left door and listens.]

Mrs. Sheppard. [Beginning to cry again] The flowers in the lobby are perfectly beautiful.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Still listening] Yes, but I’m not having them passed over the footlights tonight.

Mrs. Sheppard. [Drying her eyes] No?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Except one bouquet for each of the ladies. It took up too much time the last time.

Mrs. Sheppard. [Glancing about] Where’s Paula?

Mrs. Pampinelli. She’s upstairs, telephoning. She’s rather annoyed about Fred, you know.

Mrs. Sheppard. What about him? [Mrs. Pampinelli turns from the door suddenly and looks at her.]

Florence. [Beyond the flats] There is, my dear boy,—for lots of people——

Mrs. Pampinelli. Why, my dear, didn’t you hear?—about him falling downstairs last night?

Mrs. Sheppard. Oh, not really!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Coming towards her] He fell almost the entire flight.

Mrs. Sheppard. Oh, dear me!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Poor Paula’s terribly upset.

Mrs. Sheppard. What was he doing, coming down the stairs?

Mrs. Pampinelli. No, he was watching our rehearsal. You know, we held the final rehearsal at Paula’s house last night—we couldn’t get this place.

Mrs. Sheppard. [Solicitously] Well, did he break any bones, Betty?

Mrs. Pampinelli. No,—Doctor Wentworth said—he was unconscious before he hit the floor. He said the fall was the result of a collapse; and that he would have fallen no matter where he had been. Unfortunately, he just happened to be on the stairs. [She turns back again to the left door.]

Mrs. Sheppard. [Retrospectively] I thought he looked pale when I saw him out there tonight. [Mrs. Pampinelli turns suddenly and looks at her.]

Florence. [Beyond the flats] And you have a very modern wife.

Mrs. Pampinelli. When you saw him out here, you mean? [She indicates the audience beyond the flats.]

Mrs. Sheppard. Yes; he was standing out there at the back, right near me.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Coming towards her again] You must be mistaken, Clara.

Mrs. Sheppard. No, Betty, I’m quite sure I saw him.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, the only thing I know is that Paula said he hadn’t regained consciousness when she left the house this evening at seven-thirty. [Mrs. Ritter comes on up at the back, from the left, and comes forward.] Here’s Paula now!

Mrs. Sheppard. [Turning round to her left] Poor dear, she must be terribly upset.

Mrs. Ritter. [Extending her arms] Clara, dear! [Mrs. Sheppard bursts into tears again.] This is so nice of you! [They embrace each other, and Mrs. Ritter starts to cry.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Isn’t she the sweet thing! [The door at the right opens.]

Mrs. Fell. [To the ladies] Shush! [They all turn and look toward the right door.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [With a gesture to Mrs. Ritter and Mrs. Sheppard] Shush! [Hossefrosse comes out the right door.]

Florence. [Beyond the flats] It’s gotten very chilly.

Hossefrosse. [Picking up his hat, cane and gloves from the chair] Yes, I know it has; I just came in a few minutes ago.

Florence. You had tickets for the theatre, didn’t you?

Hossefrosse. [Stepping back through the right door again] Yes.

Florence. Why not take me?—for a change. [The door closes.] You used to—years ago.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning to Mrs. Ritter and Mrs. Sheppard] Paula, Clara says she thinks she saw Mr. Ritter out there tonight.

Mrs. Ritter. [Standing at the left] My dear, Jenny just told me over the telephone that he regained consciousness a half-hour after I left the house, and went out. Said she thought from the way he talked he was coming here.

Mrs. Sheppard. [In the center] Yes, I was sure I saw him standing out there— [Turning to Mrs. Ritter] I was just telling Betty.

Mrs. Ritter. I wonder if he’s out there yet.

Mrs. Sheppard. I don’t know, dear.

Mrs. Pampinelli. How much of the play did you see, Clara?

Mrs. Sheppard. Why, I stayed just as long as I could, Betty. But when Paula came on, and I heard those lines of mine again, I just couldn’t stand it. [She breaks down, and buries her face in her handkerchief.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Laying her hand on her arm] I know, Clara—you’re such an artist.

Mrs. Sheppard. [Pressing her hands against her bosom] Everything just seemed to come back on me.

Mrs. Pampinelli. I know how it is, dear.

Mrs. Sheppard. [Speaking directly to Mrs. Pampinelli] I got thinking how Jimmy would feel, if he could know, that he was the cause of standing in the way of my first real opportunity. [She cries again.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Raising her eyes to Heaven] Perhaps he does know, dear.

Mrs. Sheppard. [Turning to her again] I mean, you know, he was always so anxious about my getting into the work. And, somehow or other, I always felt—that I could have done so much with that part. [Mrs. Ritter gives a vague little laugh, and Mrs. Sheppard turns to her quickly.] Oh, of course, you were perfectly adorable in it, darling, I don’t mean that— [The left door opens, and Florence is standing in it, about to come out.]

Mrs. Fell. [To Mrs. Pampinelli, Mrs. Ritter and Mrs. Sheppard] Shush!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning and going closer to the left door] Excuse me, Clara.

Mrs. Sheppard. Certainly, dear. [Twiller comes forward at the right.]

Florence. [Stepping through the door] By the way, there was a Mr. Robinson telephoned this morning, after you’d left the house— [Mrs. Sheppard waves her handkerchief at Florence, and Florence replies by quietly flicking her fingers at her. Then, still keeping in her character, she moves slowly towards the right, leaving the door open behind her.] He said something about a list being correct.

Hossefrosse. [Appearing in the doorway, carrying his hat, cane and gloves] Yes, I know. [He reaches towards the left, beyond the flats, as though he were pushing an electric-light button, then thrusts his head through the door and says in a fierce whisper.] Lights.

Florence. Lights out!

Mrs. Fell and Mrs. Pampinelli, together.

Mrs. Fell. Put out the lights, somebody!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Lights, Mr. Stage Manager! [The stage manager appears from the left, at the back.]

Spindler. [Springing from the left, where he has been engaged in trying to repair the telephone-battery] Lights out!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Where are you! [The stage manager reaches up and pulls one of the switches on the switch-board at the back, and the lights beyond the flats go out; then he disappears again at the left.]

Spindler and Hossefrosse, together.

Spindler. I was right here!

Hossefrosse. [Coming through the door] Yes, I know,— [Closing the door behind him] I talked to him. [Puts his hat on]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, why aren’t you right here, where you should be! Stand by for the curtain, now,—see if you can do that much right. Surely, it’s the old story of the lark,—if you want a thing done, do it yourself! Curtain!

Spindler. [Shouting] Curtain! [The curtain, beyond the flats, begins to roll down, and there is thunderous applause.]

Mrs. Fell. [To Florence] Marvelous, darling! [Florence waves at her, turns, and rushes back towards the left.] Just lovely, Huxley!

Hossefrosse. Thanks. [He turns to the left.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Lights up! Splendid, children!

Florence. I’m awfully glad to see you, Clara!

Mrs. Sheppard, Mrs. Pampinelli, Hossefrosse and Spindler, together.

Mrs. Sheppard. [Shaking hands with Florence] You were wonderful, Flossie!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Take up the curtain, Mr. Stage Manager!

Hossefrosse. Thank you very much.

Spindler. Lights up! [The stage manager appears from the left and pulls the switch again, and the lights beyond the flats go on.]

Spindler. Take it up! [The stage manager darts off again to the left. The waltz-music on the piano, beyond the flats, begins again.]

Hossefrosse. [Lifting his hat and beaming] Hello, Clara!

Mrs. Sheppard. Wonderful! [He deprecates profusely. The curtain rises again.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Go on, Mr. Hossefrosse! [He opens the right door, removing his hat.] Wait a moment, Mr. Hossefrosse! Come on, Florence! [Hossefrosse stops uncertainly in the doorway and looks at Mrs. Pampinelli.] It’s all right! Go on! [She opens the left door.] Here, go on here, Florence! [They go on, bowing, and there is prolonged applause.] Come on, Paula! go on here! [The curtain descends again. Paula scurries to the left door, giggling.] Where’s Mr. Twiller!

Twiller. [Springing over from the right, where he has been talking and laughing with Mrs. Fell] Here I am!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning to the left] Take it up again, Mr. Stage Manager! [Turning back to Twiller, and opening the door] Here, Mr. Twiller, take Paula on! [The curtain can be seen through the left door rising again.] Come on, Paula! [Twiller drops his cane, in shifting it from his right hand to his left.] Hurry up! [He snatches the cane up, and, taking Paula by the arm, escorts her through the door. But she trips over the door-strip, nevertheless. And there is sustained applause. Mrs. Fell, over at the right, begins to preen herself feverishly. Mrs. Pampinelli closes the door slowly, and stands listening, smiling. Teddy appears up at the left and comes forward, pressing his violet handkerchief to his brow, and looking very wan. Mrs. Pampinelli turns to him.] Come on, Teddy, hurry up! They’re just going on! How do you feel? [The curtain descends.]

Teddy. Only fair.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Taking him by the right arm and urging him towards the right] Here, Nelly, go on for a bow with Teddy! [Rushing back towards the left] Take it up again, Mr. Stage Manager!

Mrs. Pampinelli, Teddy and Spindler, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. Mr. Spindler!

Teddy. [Opening the right door] Come on, Nelly!

Spindler. [Half-way back, at the left] Take it up! [Rushing forward at the left] Yes?

Mrs. Pampinelli and Mrs. Fell, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [To Spindler] Keep it going up and down till I tell you to stop! And keep it up the next time till the gentlemen get the flowers!

Mrs. Fell. [Shrinking away a little more to the right of the door, but still preening herself, almost hysterically, and breaking into a little nervous laugh] Oh, no, really, dear! I wouldn’t think of it! [Teddy goes through the right door. The curtain can be seen rising again; then the door closes after him; and Mrs. Fell continues talking, to herself.] Why, what have I done that I should go on. I wouldn’t mind if I’d taken some part in the play,—but I certainly don’t see—

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Rushing back to the right] Go on, Nelly! what are you waiting for? [The curtain descends again. Mrs. Fell rushes towards Mrs. Pampinelli.]

Mrs. Fell. [Handing Mrs. Pampinelli the rolled manuscript] Hold this!

Mrs. Pampinelli. Hurry, dear! [Mrs. Fell rushes to the right door, settles herself finally, and flings the door open. The curtain is just rising. And, placing one hand upon her bosom, dropping her eyes and smiling, Nelly sways through the door, acknowledging the plaudits. Mrs. Pampinelli, standing in the middle of the stage, applauds, also, hitting the manuscript against her hand. The door closes after Mrs. Fell. Mrs. Sheppard, over at the left, suddenly bursts into tears and buries her face in her handkerchief. Mrs. Pampinelli turns quickly and looks at her, then crosses towards her.] Do you want to take a bow, Clara?

Mrs. Sheppard. Oh, no, thank you! [Mrs. Pampinelli turns back to the left door.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Get those flowers, boys! Keep it up, Mr. Stage Manager! Come on, Clara! go on for a bow! [Reaches for Mrs. Sheppard’s hand]

Mrs. Sheppard. [Giving Mrs. Pampinelli her hand, and allowing herself to be drawn towards the right] Do you think they’d understand, Betty?

Mrs. Pampinelli. Of course, they would, my dear! They know it isn’t your fault that you’re not appearing! [Mrs. Fell thrusts open the right door. She has a basket of roses in her hand.]

Mrs. Fell. They’re calling for you, Betty! [Someone in the audience can be heard calling Mrs. Pampinelli’s name.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Here, Nelly, take Clara on for a bow!

Mrs. Fell. [Impatiently] They’re calling for you, dear! [Mrs. Sheppard hastily throws her veil back, dramatically.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. I’ll take one alone, afterwards! [The applause swells again.] Go on, Clara!

Mrs. Fell. [Extending her right hand] Come on, dear!

Mrs. Sheppard. [Giving Mrs. Fell her left hand] Oh, I don’t feel that I should! [Mrs. Fell keeps the door open, and Clara droops through, bowing. Then Mrs. Fell closes the door and Mrs. Pampinelli turns to the left.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. Keep it up, Mr. Spindler!

Spindler. Keep it up!

Hossefrosse. [Thrusting open the left door] Mrs. Pampinelli! [There is a vision through the door of the various artists bowing towards the back wall, all the ladies laden with flowers.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. All right, dear! I’m coming! [Hossefrosse closes the door, and Mrs. Pampinelli deftly touches her hair and flings her train out to its full length behind her. Then she speaks in a loud voice, so that she may be heard by those on the other side of the flats.] Everybody stand to one side! Stand to one side, everybody! [She pulls open the left door and stands, smiling: then she steps through the door; and, instantly, the curtain falls with a deafening crash. The door closes after her. Nelly Fell gives a piercing scream. Spindler comes rushing down from the left to the left door.]

Teddy. [Shouting, beyond the flats] Curtain!

Hossefrosse. Take up the curtain!

Twiller. Take it up! [There is a babel of voices beyond the flats. Then the left door is thrust violently open, and Mrs. Pampinelli looks out.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Harshly, to Spindler] What’s the matter with the curtain?

Spindler. [In a panic of excitement] Something’s broke! [The stage manager rushes on from the left and comes forward.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Coming out through the door and calling to the stage manager, whom she hasn’t seen yet] Take up the curtain, Mr. Stage Manager!

Stage Manager. I can’t take it up, the guy-rope’s broken! [He goes up at the left.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. What? [Mrs. Fell comes running through the right door, carrying her basket of flowers, and crosses towards the left.]

Mrs. Fell and Spindler, together.

Mrs. Fell. What is it, Betty?

Spindler. [To Mrs. Pampinelli] He says the guy-rope’s broken!

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Brushing him aside, to the left, and rushing up at the left] My God! did anyone ever hear of such stupidity!

Mrs. Pampinelli, Mrs. Fell and Spindler, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. I’ll go on at the side here!

Mrs. Fell. What’s the matter, Mr. Spindler?

Spindler. [Shouting after Mrs. Pampinelli] He says he can’t get it up! [Mrs. Sheppard comes through the right doorway with an armload of American Beauty roses, and stands looking anxiously from side to side. Teddy follows her out and stands at her right, discussing the incident. Florence opens the left door and comes out. Her arms are full of tiger-lilies. She moves to the right and speaks to Mrs. Sheppard, nervously.]

Stage Manager. You can’t get through there, lady! [Twiller comes out the left door.]

Mrs. Pampinelli and Stage Manager, together;

Mrs. Pampinelli. I must get through somewhere!

Stage Manager. That tormentor’s too narrow there!

Mrs. Pampinelli, Stage Manager and Mrs. Fell, together.

Mrs. Pampinelli. [Turning frantically and rushing forward again at the left] I’ll try the other side! He says it’s too narrow there!

Stage Manager. I don’t know how you’re going to do it!

Mrs. Fell. [As Mrs. Pampinelli sweeps between her and Spindler] What is it he says is broken, Betty? [Mrs. Pampinelli rushes over towards the right. She literally sweeps Twiller, who is in her path, out of the way, and he falls backward over a stage-brace, onto the floor. Mrs. Fell picks up her dress and runs after Mrs. Pampinelli.]

Spindler. [Outrunning Mrs. Fell] The guy-rope!

Mrs. Fell. Well, why doesn’t he fix it! Betty! Betty dear! [Mrs. Pampinelli rushes up at the extreme right and tries desperately to find a way of getting through; but everything is solidly masked. Hossefrosse comes out the left door, and the stage manager comes forward at the left and stands looking after Mrs. Pampinelli.]

Hossefrosse. What’s the matter, can’t Mrs. Pampinelli get her bow?

Stage Manager. She can’t get on any more from that side than she can from this! [Hossefrosse steps out through the door and looks toward the right. The door closes after him.] There’s the same opening over there as there is here! [The applause beyond the flats, which has kept up throughout the debacle, begins to die. Mrs. Pampinelli comes sweeping back from the right with fire in her eye,—Nelly Fell and Spindler still at her heels. She plants herself in the middle of the stage and glares at the stage manager.]

Mrs. Pampinelli. [In a voice shrill with anger] My God! what’s the matter with your curtain!

Stage Manager. [Losing his temper] The guy-rope’s broken! I’ve told you that about a dozen times! [He turns doggedly away to the left, as though he were going up to his chair; but he stops short and finishes his remarks to her over his left shoulder.] What do you want me to do, write you a letter! [The left door is pushed quietly open; and Mrs. Ritter, with her face just visible above a perfect screen of roses, looks blankly at the stage manager.]

Mrs. Ritter. [Vaguely] There’s something the matter with the curtain. [The real stage curtain commences to descend.]

Stage Manager. [Leaning towards her, assuming her general manner and tone, and flipping his hand at her] Y-E-E-S! [He goes up towards his chair, and Mrs. Ritter stands in wide-eyed astonishment.]

END OF THE ACT.