A SUCCESSFUL PERFORMANCE
THE great day drew near. The play was to be presented on Friday evening,
and much was to be done by way of preparation.
Uncle Ned and two carpenters were building a stage in the parlor, which,
though small, was a jolly little affair; and Aunt Molly, who was a bit
of an artist, was painting some crude but effective scenery.
Betty was supposed to be helping Uncle Ned, and Marjorie and Millicent
were trying to help the scenic artist; but if their assistance wasn’t
very valuable, they at least knew enough not to hinder the head workers.
Jessie and Marguerite were devising stunning costumes and
strange-looking “properties,” the use of which no one could guess.
These two modistes were continually making pilgrimages to the shops of
Long Beach; which emporiums never, by any chance, yielded up the
materials the anxious maidens were in search of.
“Going to the store again?” said Marjorie, as Marguerite flew by her
with an anxious face.
“Yes; we _must_ have some red stuff, if I have to use paper.”
“Take Timmy Loo, won’t you? He hasn’t had a run to-day.”
“Course I will. Come on, Tim.” And the Chaperon flew away, followed by
the silver-blue Skye. After an hour or more the yellow-haired Chaperon
returned in a state of exhaustion.
“I’ll _never_ take that dog out with me again,” she declared, with such
a tragic air that Marjorie felt certain her pet must have brought
disgrace upon the whole club.
“Why, what has my bad little bundle of a dog been a-doing?” she
inquired, grabbing up the quivering bunch of silver curls and blue
ribbon.
“He wasn’t bad,” said Marguerite, laughing, “but he’s such a nuisance. I
thought I should never get home. He made me go into every shop in the
village.”
“That didn’t take _very_ long,” observed Betty, dryly.
“No; but he insisted on being fed at each place; and he knows exactly
where they all keep their eatables. At the grocer’s he flew to the glass
case where the chocolates are, and pawed at it and whined until Mr.
Forbes had to open it and give him some. Then at the milliner’s, where I
was buying ribbon, he tore out into her back parlor, and jumped up on a
table, trying to reach a little chest of drawers where, it seems, she
keeps sugar-lumps. And even at the dry-goods shop he dived behind a lot
of rolls of stuff and found a paper bag of ginger cookies. Oh, he’s a
terror! How does he know all these places?”
“He smells them out!” said Marjorie, patting Tim’s head, while the dog,
understanding that he was being praised, wagged his bit of a tail and
blinked his eyes proudly.
“And when he had found the things,” continued Marguerite, “he never
offered to touch them, but just sat up and begged, with that cocky blue
bow sticking up behind, and of course nobody could refuse him.”
“I should think not!” cried Marjorie, hugging her treasure. “Of course
nobody could refuse a bit of chocolate or sugar to such a polite,
refined, well-bred little doggikins, who _always_ keeps his bow at the
back of his neck!” And Tim fairly glowed at her fond appreciation.
Although for several days Hilarity Hall was in a most chaotic state of
preparation, and although it seemed as if order never could come of it,
yet on Friday evening at seven o’clock everything was in complete
readiness.
Helen’s banjo music was augmented by the two Hillis boys, Frank and
Raymond, one of whom played the banjo and the other the mandolin.
They were nice boys, and when Aunt Molly invited them to play for the
Hilarity Hall girls they were more than pleased.
The girls liked it too, especially Marguerite and Jessie, who
immediately assumed the coy and bewitching airs which they thought the
occasion demanded.
“But why so many chairs?” asked Marjorie, as Uncle Ned brought over more
and more from his own cottage, and Aunt Molly placed them in compact
rows in the parlor.
“Don’t ask questions, miss,” said her uncle. “You left the invitation of
an audience to your charming and capable aunt, and now ’tis yours not to
make reply, yours not to wonder why, but run along and don that fetching
costume in which you’re to dazzle the eyes of this large and imposing
audience.”
“Imposed-on audience you mean, Uncle Ned,” said Marjorie, as she danced
away.
The Blue Ribbon Club had a uniform, which they had concluded to wear in
their play. It was a plain gown of soft light-gray material, with a
ruffled white muslin kerchief. A picturesque effect was gained by a
hooded cape of the gray lined with pink.
Marguerite declared that Aunt Molly was an honorary member of the club,
and she must have a uniform too. So one was made for her, and the nine
ladies made a pretty picture in the nun-like garb.
At last all was in readiness, and the audience was beginning to arrive.
From behind the curtain the girls could hear the rustling of the
programs and hearty laughter from the appreciative readers. The programs
were the work of Betty and Hester, and were declared by all to be a
triumph of genius.
Here is a copy of one:
ANNUAL ENGAGEMENT
OF THE
HILARITY HALL OPERA COMPANY
PRESENTING
A NEW AND ORIGINAL
MUSICAL FARCE
ENTITLED
HILARITY HALL
FIRST PRODUCTION ON ANY STAGE
OF THIS POPULAR OPERETTA
_Libretto by the Blue Ribbon Club_
_Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan and others_
INTERPRETED BY THE FOLLOWING
PHENOMENAL CAST
(THE ONLY COMPANY AUTHORIZED TO
PRESENT THIS OPERA)
THE CHAPERON, MATRON, AND GENERAL GUARDIAN,
_Miss Marguerite Alden_
THE POET, whose rime is even worse than her reason,
_Miss Anna Kellogg_
THE CAMERA FIEND, a taking young lady,
_Miss Hester Laverack_
THE SCULLERY-MAID, a shining success,
_Miss Jessica Carroll_
THE LAMPLIGHTER, with wick-ed ways,
_Miss Millicent Payne_
THE WANDERING MINSTREL, who wanders in her mind,
_Miss Helen Morris_
THE PEELER, who plays a skin game,
_Miss Elizabeth Miller_
THE COOK, winner of the Blue Ribbon,
_Miss Marjorie Bond_
ROBIN STEELE, an Amiable Burglar,
_Mr. Edward Warburton_
ADVISORY BOARD
_Mrs. Edward Warburton_
NOTICE. In case of fire, escape may be made by any door or
window.
NOTICE. Explanatory diagrams of the principal jokes will be
supplied by the ushers, free of charge.
Patrons of this theater will confer a favor on the management by
reporting any inattention on the part of the employees (or the
audience).
Tickets picked up on the sidewalk are worthless, and will not be
received at the door.
The management begs respectfully to call the attention of the
audience to the unique electric-lighting defects.
The piano used on this occasion doesn’t seem to be here.
As the curtain began to rise, the audience gave way to wild and
enthusiastic applause, more boisterous indeed than might have been
expected from the sedate and decorous friends whom Aunt Molly had
invited.
But the curtain was not fairly up before the flustered girls on the
stage perceived the reason of this outburst.
The front row of chairs was entirely occupied by the Middleton boys
whose presence they had so insistently forbidden.
There were Marjorie’s two brothers, and Nan’s one; there were the
Burleigh boys, Ted Lewis, Dick Morton, and Roger Hale.
With faces on a broad grin, they proceeded to make both manual and
vociferous protestations of delight until the opening chorus began.
But this did not entirely silence the happy ones in the front row. No;
the airs of the operetta being familiar to them, the boys joined their
strong young voices to those of the prima donnas on the stage, and the
result was truly fine.
The play went on beautifully. Marguerite looked so pretty and sang so
well that she, perhaps, received the most applause among the girls.
But Uncle Ned was so funny as the Amiable Burglar, and introduced such
funny jokes and antics into his part, that he was by all odds the star
of the evening.
Betty forgot her part several times, but, being quick-witted, she
extemporized bits that were better than her original lines.
Helen proved to be the best actress, and her sleep-walking scene was so
effective that she was advised to study for _Lady Macbeth_.
Jessie was stage-struck. Her round, rosy little face grew pale, her blue
eyes stared, and her voice failed her entirely. Less embarrassed than
dazed, she walked to a chair at one end of the stage, and sat down,
calmly folding her arms. This delighted the audience, who greatly
applauded the bewildered actress.
In the second act the girls all wore frilled white tarlatan dresses,
with sashes and bows of pale green ribbon.
The scene was a flowery garden, and it was most attractive, with a rose
hedge at the back, and palms and flowering bushes all about. To be sure,
the roses were made of pink tissue-paper, but they were very effective,
and the group of lovely girls were slowly waving feather fans in time to
a slow, soft
CHORUS
Waft, waft in slow, sweet cadences
Each fan whose use a maiden’s is,
More worthy praise, in summer days,
Than needle, spoon, or pen.
Touch lightly each resounding string,
O Wandering Minstrel, while we sing
Of hearts by fate made desolate
And of the Now and Then.
Waft, waft in slow, sweet cadences
Each fan whose use a maiden’s is.
“Ah!” cried the boys, in concert, as the chorus concluded. “Ah, ah, ah!”
But though they were in a teasing mood, they were careful not to disturb
the play seriously, and the merry farce came successfully to a finish.
Then the boys’ merriment broke loose. They swarmed up on to the stage;
they kissed the girls who were their sisters or cousins, and shook hands
vigorously with those who were not. They greeted Uncle Ned and Aunt
Molly effusively; for was it not owing to them that this joyful treat
was brought about? Indeed, you never saw such gay, irrepressible spirits
as those Middleton guests were.
When they adjourned to the dining-room the Feast Committee found that
their provision had been amply supplemented, and the rose-garlanded,
tarlatan-frocked ladies found that histrionic laurels in no way affected
their appetites.
“When did you come?” asked Marjorie of Jack Kellogg. “You know I told
you you positively couldn’t.”
Marjorie had on her Duchess air, but Jack, being a brave youth, was not
afraid of her.
“I know,” he replied; “but your Aunt Molly said we positively could, and
so we’re here, and—what do you think of this? We’re staying at the Long
Beach Inn, and we’re not going home until to-morrow night!”