AN AUTHOR'S TRIALS.
When the dinner was ended--and the members of the dramatic company
made short work of it in order to begin their professional duties as
soon as possible--Mopsey Dowd fully realized that he was about to pass
in judgment before his partners. Whether he was entitled to it or not,
he had some considerable fame as an author, and for that reason he had
taken upon himself, voluntarily and even eagerly, the task of
preparing an original play for the great event; which goes to show,
perhaps, more than anything else, that Mopsey's fame resulted from
chance rather than merit.
When he rose from the table he knew that every eye was upon him, and
that each one present expected to hear him say something relative to
the brain-effort he was making. He was a genius, and would be until
his friends found him out, which occurrence would not be very far off
if he should say anything then, for the very good reason that he did
not know what to say. He knew that something must be done, and that
speedily, which would bear out his claim to distinction, and, with a
view to gaining time, he said:
"You fellers go into the theatre, 'cause I ain't quite ready yet, an'
I'll go up to my room to think over one or two things."
This speech was very much needed just then, for Mopsey had been so
reticent as to his play that his partners were beginning to suspect
that he was not all he claimed to be. But now perfect trust was
restored by his words, and the proprietors of the theatre went up to
their temple of art feeling every confidence in the author who was
struggling in the privacy of his chamber for their success.
This delay in the beginning of the rehearsal was just what Nelly
wanted, for it enabled her to add what she considered would be the
crowning beauty of their decorations. She had conceived the idea only
that afternoon, while engaged in the busy whirl of keeping the sound
peaches at the top of the basket and the unripe ones at the bottom.
A friend of hers, whose mother kept a thread-and-needle emporium that
was contained in a willow basket, and displayed to the public very
near her fruit-stand, was skilful in the art of making paper flowers,
and from time to time had presented Nelly with specimens of her skill,
until everything in the house that could be pressed into service as a
vase was filled with these never-fading and odorless roses.
It had occurred to her that these flowers might be so arranged on the
wall as to form the word "Welcome;" and when she suggested her idea to
the boys, after Mopsey had gone into his room, they were delighted.
Therefore the delay caused by the author enabled them to go to work
upon this last and most beautiful of their decorations at once.
Dickey went out for a paper of tacks, and Johnny drew on the wall,
directly opposite the entrance of the hall, the outlines of the word
to be filled up with the paper flowers. But there was a difference of
opinion among those who were watching him as to how the word should be
spelled. He had drawn out the letters "Welkum," while Paul insisted
that it was not right, spelling the word correctly, and referring the
matter to Ben for arbitration.
Thus appealed to, as if he was an authority in such matters, Ben
looked wonderfully wise, but refused to give any decision until after
he had written the word down on a bit of paper, spelling it in various
ways, that he might see which looked correct.
After some moments of anxious suspense for Johnny, for he had built a
very frail stand to enable him to reach a point on the wall where it
would be impossible for any of the audience to tear the flowers down,
Ben announced that neither was correct, and that the word should be
spelled "Wellcom." It was in vain that Paul insisted Ben was wrong.
The decision had been given, and the others decided that where a
matter was left to a third party for adjustment all must be satisfied
with the ruling. Therefore Johnny marked out the letters as Ben had
said, and after Dickey's return with the tacks the flowers were put
up, forming a very gorgeous and badly spelled word.
Before the partners had finished admiring this very beautiful ornament
on the wall of their theatre, a noise was heard on the stairs, and, on
looking out, Dickey announced, by many frantic gestures, that the
author was coming. It was a moment of anxious expectancy, for at last
they were to know the result of their partner's labors, and they were
to be shown just what they were to do on the important occasion.
Dickey was particularly anxious, probably fearing lest his part should
not be such as would admit of his carrying a sword and shield.
Mopsey walked into the room with slow and measured step, as if he knew
the weight of the words he was about to speak, and feared lest, being
too heavy, they might topple him over. But Master Dowd was not one who
did anything in a careless manner; he did not deign to speak until he
had walked the length of the room, disappeared behind the scenery, and
stalked out upon the stage, holding a huge sheet of paper in his hand
as if it was a weapon with which he was about to strike any refractory
member of the firm, should his play not be exactly to their liking.
[Illustration: "WHO PUT THAT UP?"]
"Fellers," he said, as he cleared his throat, and then noticing the
female portion of his company, he corrected himself by saying,
"Fellers an' Nelly: When we first made up our minds to build this
theatre--" Here he waved his roll of paper around as if to designate
which theatre he meant. The movement drew his attention to the new
ornament, and caused him to forget what he was about to say.
"Who put that up?" he asked, almost angrily.
"I did," said Johnny, and then, anxious to shift any responsibility of
the spelling to the shoulders on which it belonged, he added, "but Ben
spelled it."
"Well, fix it," commanded the disturbed author. "If any of the fellers
should see that they'd think we didn't know nothin' at all. Put it
w-e-double l-k-o-m."
Johnny started to obey him, thinking with delight that he had been
almost right before, and Mopsey continued:
"When we built this place I said I'd fix up a play myself, so's we'd
be sure to have everythin' all right; but business has been so good,
an' I had so much trouble with my pea-nut roaster--for I broke it
twice, an' had to hire one offer the Italian that keeps across the
street--that I thought we'd play somethin' the boys all knew, an' we'd
kinder lay over anythin' they'd ever seen at the same time. So I
thought we'd play the whole of Shakespeare, an' that would give
everybody a fair show."
There was a look of disappointment on the faces of his hearers as he
said this, and noticing it, he added, quickly,
"You see we couldn't get up a whole play new, an' give all hands a
chance to do fightin'; an' then, agin, Dickey wouldn't have a shield
an' a sword any other way than this."
This last argument changed the look on Dickey's face at once, and he
was perfectly satisfied with any arrangement now, for he knew that his
ambition was to be realized. The others were very careful to show no
signs of approval until they were satisfied that they had been treated
as well as Dickey.
"Of course," continued Mopsey, as he looked around at his audience
much as if he expected to hear some of them say that he couldn't write
a play, "the first thing we had to have was a programme, an' I've made
one out, so's you'll know jest what you've got to do."
Here Mopsey unfolded the paper he had carried in his hand, and
displayed a bill of the play. It is unnecessary to say that this piece
of literary work had cost the author a very great effort. Doubts as to
the spelling arose at every turn, but the final result was as follows:
GRATE SHOW--At Mis GReNs. BoRDin HOUse
THe HoLe ov SHAKspiR
SATeRDAY NiTe, 8 in tHe evenin
RicHARD 3 MopseY DoWD
MAKBeTH DicKeY SPRY
OTHeLLeR SHineR JoNes
HAMLeT PoLLY WesToN
THe GosT Ben TReAT
A SiNGeR NeLLY GRen
PRiCe 5 cenTs. PreSeRVeD ceATS 8 cenTs
GRATe TiMe.
Mopsey waited patiently until all had read this wonderful production,
and he was pleased to see that nearly all were satisfied with their
parts. Ben Treat was the only one who appeared to think he had any
cause for complaint, and he very soon made his grievance known.
"I can't play ghost," he said, fretfully; "I don't know nothin' 'bout
it, an' I want more to do."
Mopsey had made up his mind as to what course he should pursue in case
of any dissatisfaction, and he said to Ben, in tones of deepest scorn,
"A great feller you are to get up a fuss before you know what you've
got to do! an' you oughter be ashamed of yourself. Why, you've got an
awful lot to do. In the first place, you've got to come an' 'most
scare the life out of Polly, an' then when he runs away you've got to
do a song an' dance, an' turn three or four hand-springs before you
sink right down through one of these holes, I don't know what you do
want if that don't suit you, unless it is to do the whole play."
Ben had nothing more to say; he realized that his was really an
important part, and he was abashed by the withering sarcasm of the
angry author. Then each of the others, fearing lest they should not
have as good an opportunity for the display of their talents, demanded
to know what they were to do.
"Now I'll begin an' tell you the whole thing," said Mopsey, as he
prepared to show how all of Shakespeare's plays could be performed on
one evening by a small company. "In the first place, Nelly comes out,
all dressed up, an' sings a song; then the play commences. I come out
with a sword an' pistols, an' tell about my hoss runnin' away, an'
after I get through, Shiner comes out an' picks a fuss with me, an' I
kill him."
Here the speaker was interrupted by the gentleman who had been
selected to play the part of Othello, with the remark that it was
hardly fair to dispose of him at such an early stage of the
performance, more especially on the first night.
"But you come on agin an' dance," said Mopsey, fretfully. "Why don't
you wait till I get through? After I kill Shiner, Dickey comes in an'
we two have a reg'lar fight, an' we both run away. Then Shiner jumps
up an' dances just as long as he can, an' down comes the curtain. In
the next act Polly comes out an' talks a lot of stuff; an' when he
gets through, Ben comes right up through the floor an' scares him
awfully. An' when he runs off, Ben does a song an' dance, an' that
ends that act. Then Nelly sings another song, an' we all come out
fightin'; an' when we get through, Dickey dances a clog; an' if that
ain't show enough for five cents, I don't know what is."
In fact the partners were of Mopsey's opinion, and since they were all
to appear in the last act in a grand fight, they would not have
complained even though it had been necessary for them all to die in
the first scene. Even if Mopsey had not written an original play, he
had covered himself with glory in this arrangement of Shakespeare's
works; and if there had been any doubts as to the success of their
enterprise, they were dispelled now.
Of course it was necessary to make some arrangements for costumes, and
an exciting discussion began at once, during which Mrs. Green was
called upon to see what she could do towards fitting the party out.
Mopsey proposed that a further assessment of twenty-five cents be made
upon each of the company, and announced that, prosperous as business
was just then, he had decided to shut up shop the next day, in order
to give his whole attention to the important work of preparation.
Dickey volunteered to sacrifice his business also, in order to aid
him, and it was believed that with the funds just raised these two
could buy and hire weapons enough to arm the entire party.
Mrs. Green had several things which it was thought could be used with
good effect, and all hands went to work making wooden swords, in case
there should be any trouble in finding the real articles. Nelly made
more tickets, so that all who were anxious to witness the performance
might at least have one, and Paul was given charge of the money that
had been received thus far; for all were anxious to see the entire
receipts of that night's performance in one unbroken whole, even if it
was necessary to advance funds from each individual pocket in order to
make the necessary purchases. And during the remainder of that evening
Mopsey rehearsed the different members of the combination separately,
until he was convinced that they could carry out their respective
_roles_ perfectly.