"When first I began to run . . . ."
The high-minded lady left the room hurriedly.
I loved that class. Often I wish that I had kept their essays. One
day we had a five minute essay on the subject: Waiting for My Cue.
Lawrence wrote of standing on the steps in a cold sweat of fear. He
had only five words to say--"The carriage waits, my lord," but he had
never acted before. His cue was: "Ho! Who comes here?"
"At last," he wrote, "I heard the fateful words: 'Ho! Who comes
here?' I could not move; I stood trembling on the stairs.
"'Get on, you idiot!' whispered the stage manager savagely, but still I
could not move.
"'Ho! Who comes here?' repeated the fool on the stage. Still I could
not move a step.
"'Ho! Who comes here?'
"Suddenly I became aware of a disturbance in the auditorium. The noise
increased, and then I heard the agonising words: 'Fire! Fire!' Panic
followed, and cries of terror rang out.
"But I . . . I jumped on the stage and cried: 'Hurrah!
Hoo-blinking-rah!' It was the happiest moment of my life."
Sydney took a different line. Her cue was the sound of a stage kiss.
Boldly she walked on, and the stage lovers glared at her, for she
arrived before the kiss was finished or rather properly begun. The
audience chuckled. At the next performance she determined to be less
punctual. She heard the smack of the kiss, but she did not move. As
she waited she heard the audience roaring with laughter, and then she
realised that the poor lovers had been standing kissing each other for
a full five minutes.
I must write to these dear old children to ask if they kept their
essays.
* * * * *
Duncan was in to-night, and he told a school story that was new to me.
In a certain council school it was the custom for teachers to write
down on the blackboard any instructions they might have for the janitor
before they left at night. One night he came in and read the words:
Find the L.C.M.
"Good gracious!" he growled, "has that dam thing gone and got lost
again?"