THE DEBUT.
Mr. Wattles sank into a convenient chair.
"Well," he said, with an air of stony resignation, "there's no use in
fighting against fate. I give it up. We'll return the people their money
and shut up the house."
"What's the matter?" asked Al.
"Why," replied Sparkley, "Miss Hollingsworth, who has been playing the
part that Mrs. Anderson is billed for, has been here, and has had an
interview with her successor, and got her so worked up that she
absolutely refuses to appear."
"Why, I told the woman that she needn't come at all to-night!" cried Mr.
Wattles.
"Well, she's here as large as life."
"Why did you let her in, Sparkley?"
"I couldn't very well refuse her admittance; she is a member of the
company."
"That's so."
"Besides, I had no idea that she was going to raise a row. I think that
Farley was at the bottom of the business; I saw him talking to her
outside just before she came in."
"You did? That explains the whole thing. Well, I'm just going to let
things take their course."
At this moment Mrs. Anderson came rushing toward them, evidently
greatly excited. She was closely followed by a young woman, quite as
much agitated as herself.
Both women began talking at once, and it was two or three minutes before
Mr. Wattles could make himself heard. When at last he succeeded in doing
so, he said:
"Now, ladies, if you will speak one at a time, and talk slow, I will try
to straighten things out. What is the trouble, Mrs. Anderson?"
"That woman," sobbed the society belle, indicating the actress, "has
grossly insulted me. I cannot, I will not play."
"Have you forgotten your promise to me, Mrs. Anderson?" interposed Al.
"No, I have not, and I am very sorry that I cannot fulfill it. But it is
impossible."
"I only told her," snapped Miss Hollingsworth, a fiery-looking,
dark-haired, black-eyed woman, "that she was a rank amateur, and so she
is. Why, it is an insult to give such a woman my part!"
"Yes, that's what she said," cried Mrs. Anderson, in a high-pitched
voice. "I would never play the part unless she was discharged."
The manager's face lighted up.
"Will you play," he asked, "if I discharge her?"
"Yes."
"That settles it. Miss Hollingsworth, you are discharged."
"Wha-a-t?" screamed the actress.
"You heard what I said. You are given the usual two weeks' notice."
"I am discharged, I, Olga Hollingsworth, on account of this woman?"
"No, you are discharged because these exhibitions of bad temper on your
part have tired me out. And now, madam," turning to Mrs. Anderson and
speaking with the utmost politeness, "will you kindly return to your
dressing room and complete your preparations for your appearance? You
will have to go on in less than fifteen minutes."
"I will do so, sir."
And with a withering glance at the actress, the mayor's wife swept away.
"You shan't forget this evening's work in a hurry, Mr. Gus Wattles!"
hissed the enraged Miss Hollingsworth. "You'll rue the day when you made
Dick Farley and me your enemies!"
"So Farley is at the bottom of all this, is he?" said the manager. "I
thought so."
"Never mind whether he is or not," was the actress' reply. "I wish you
good-evening, Wattles. I don't want your two weeks' notice. I wouldn't
play in your company again for ten times the miserable salary you paid
me. Find some one else to play the part to-morrow night or shut up the
house."
With these words and a vindictive glance, the woman left the theater,
slamming the stage door violently behind her.
Mr. Wattles drew a long breath of relief.
"I'm glad to get rid of her," he said. "This isn't the first time she
and I have had words. I'll have another woman here to play the part
to-morrow night, or I'll cut it out altogether; it isn't of any
importance, anyhow. And, I say, I believe that Mrs. Anderson has the
making of an actress in her, after all. She's as good a kicker as if she
had been in the business all her life. No danger of her suffering from
stage fright; she has too good an opinion of herself. Well, I must go
around to the front now. Come with me and see how things look."
The house was, as Al had predicted, packed to the doors; even standing
room was at a premium. Such an audience had never been seen in the opera
house before.
The souvenir spoons had proved a great success; everyone was extolling
the liberality of the management.
"This is immense," chuckled Mr. Wattles, rubbing his hands. "Allston,
you are a trump. I wish you could do this in every town we visit."
"Well, I'll do my best to repeat the success," smiled Al. "What can't be
done in one way can in another."
"And you're the lad who can do it. But the curtain is going up. I hope
Mrs. Anderson will be all right. She comes on in less than five minutes.
Come up to the manager's box now; it's the only place in the house where
we can get a seat."
The two elbowed their way through the crowd; and, not without some
difficulty, reached the box in question. They had hardly taken their
seats when Mrs. Anderson stepped upon the stage. Her appearance was the
signal for a perfect whirlwind of applause.
"Well," said Mr. Wattles, as the lady stood bowing and smiling, "she is
a good-looker, anyway. She's as well made up as if she'd been in the
profesh for years; and, by Jove! she's as cool as a veteran! What a
reception! Irving himself couldn't ask for a better one."
In fact, it was nearly or quite three minutes before the debutante could
go on with her part. By this time the stage was half filled with "floral
tributes," one huge piece being from the board of aldermen. When the
mayor, who was seated in an opposite box, saw this, his face, which had
until then worn a rather gloomy expression, lighted up, and he began to
manifest some signs of interest in the performance.
As Mr. Wattles had said, the part that had been assigned to Mrs.
Anderson was one of very little importance. It would have been difficult
to make a failure of it. The lady recited her lines well, and when she
left the stage she was furiously applauded.
"That shows what the public appreciation of the drama amounts to,"
remarked Mr. Wattles, sarcastically, although he had applauded Mrs.
Anderson as loudly as anyone. "You can't hear yourself think for the
noise they make about this society woman; yet, on the same stage there
is a little girl who has real talent. But they ignore her."
"You mean the young lady who plays the part of _Ethel Darlington_?"
questioned Al.
"Yes, of course I do. I see that you, at least, know good acting when
you see it; but here comes Mrs. Anderson again. Ah! that old fellow in
the box over there is going to make a speech."
Al recognized in the "old fellow" referred to one of Boomville's
prominent citizens--a certain Maj. Duncan.
The major, who enjoyed nothing in life more than hearing himself talk in
public or in private, had risen in his seat and was signaling for
silence.
In a few moments the house was so still that the fall of the traditional
pin would have startled the more nervous portion of the audience.
The major, standing at the edge of the box, delivered, in a sonorous
voice, a fulsome speech of praise, addressed to Mrs. Anderson, ending by
presenting her with a wreath of laurels.
The lady, not in the least embarrassed, made a brief reply, and was
about to resume her part, when Maj. Duncan, who had remained standing,
said:
"But this is not all. There is here to-night a young fellow townsman of
ours of whom Boomville should be proud. I refer to the gentleman seated
in the proscenium box on the other side."
And the orator fixed his eyes on Al's face.