MAGIC LANTERNS
Two weeks of constant hustle, excitement and preparation passed by
until at last came--the big night!
It was seven o'clock and Betty had started to dress. Mechanically,
with fingers that shook a little from excitement, she went through
the early stages of the process, until it was time to slip into the
pretty filmy lace dress she was to wear for the first part of the
evening.
Then her eyes met the reflected ones in the mirror, and she stopped
short, wondering "if this were really I." She was very sure that that
very pretty girl in the mirror, with the flushed cheeks and brilliant
eyes, could never be the Betty Nelson she had grown up with--it could
not be! And yet she thrilled with a strange new happiness. It was so
good to be pretty.
Then she drew a deep breath, and turned away with a little rippling
laugh at herself.
"Betty Nelson," she scolded, slipping the pretty dress over her head,
and keeping her eyes severely away from the mirror, "you'll be
getting conceited next; and if there's anything I hate, it's a
conceited person."
At a quarter of eight there came a ring at the door bell, and Betty's
heart missed a beat. It proved to be only Allen, however--but,
strange as it may seem, that fact did not seem to improve the
behavior of her heart in the least.
As for Allen, he simply stood and stared, as a transformed Betty ran
down the stairs toward him.
"Oh, Allen, I'm _so_ glad it was only you," she said, holding out her
hands to him--which he seemed by no means reluctant to take. "I was
so hoping you'd get here before the rest. There are one or two things
I want to talk over with you."
"Betty," he whispered, his voice sounding strange, even to himself,
"you're so pretty, I can't think of anything else, or look at
anything else, while you're around. I always did have trouble that
way, but to-night----"
"I--I'm--just the same to-night as I always am," she stammered, not
daring to look at him. "Allen, dear--I----"
"What did you call me?" he shouted, turning her about so she had to
look at him. "Betty, Betty, say it again. I, oh, I--"
"I--I didn't mean it," gasped Betty, joyfully afraid, wanting to run
away, yet wanting desperately not to. "I don't know what made me----"
"Don't you?" he cried, that same wild thrill in his voice. "Then I'll
tell you, Betty. You said it because----"
"Good evening, Allen." It was Mrs. Nelson's voice as she came
unsuspectingly upon them from the dining-room. "I didn't even know
you were here. Betty and I were hoping you would get here early. The
footlights don't work just as they should----" and Allen's golden
hour was gone, for the moment, at least.
He gazed pleadingly toward Betty, but she had put an arm about her
mother--Allen noticed with joy that it trembled a little--and was
leading the way toward the rear of the house, and out upon the lawn,
where the big tent had been erected.
It took Allen, who, besides being a very able and rising young
lawyer, was also something of an electrician, about two minutes to
find the flaw in the wiring and remedy it. Soon after that the first
guests began to arrive.
The rest of the evening was one brilliant panorama, that the girls
never forgot. Until nine o'clock, the time set for the concert and
sketch in the big tent, the guests, about two hundred in number,
wandered happily about the lawn, watching "Denton's trained animals,"
which consisted of a little French poodle, an aristocratic yellow
cat, and a gifted parrot, with an immense and varied vocabulary,
perform.
The animals were the undisputed property of this young Denton, who
had grown up in Deepdale, and who, being a lover of animals, had
untiringly trained his pets, until their fame had spread all over the
town. He had a booth all to himself, and was having more fun than the
spectators--and that was saying a good deal, judging from the merry
laughter and jests issuing from the tent.
There were several other attractions, the favorite, after "Denton's
trained animals," being the fortune-telling booth. This was presided
over by Jessie Johnson--one of the jolliest and wittiest of the
Deepdale girls. She was made up to resemble an old crone, and her
fortune-telling kept her victims in gales of laughter.
"Isn't it great?" cried Mollie, hugging Betty rapturously, as they
met behind the scenes in the big tent about nine o'clock. "I knew it
would be a success, but this is better even than I expected."
"Mollie," returned Betty, and there was a strange new thrill in her
voice, that made her friend look at her quickly, "I'm happy, happy,
happy! I thought I knew what it was to be happy before, but I never
did. I just feel like shouting aloud and hugging everybody I see. Oh,
I never dreamed we'd make such a success of it!"
"It isn't over yet, though," said Mollie, beginning to feel a little
panicky. "We've got to speak _our_ little piece yet, and I never did
feel quite sure of that last line."
"Oh, goodness, don't begin to worry now," cried Betty. "Our last
rehearsal was perfect, and we've never fallen down in anything we've
tried to do yet."
"Well, there has to be a beginning to everything, hasn't there?"
argued Mollie pessimistically. "I'm perfectly sure I'm going to
forget that last line. I feel it coming on."
"Well, then you deserve to lose it," said Betty, knowing very well
how best to handle Mollie. "You'll do just whatever you think you're
going to do, and if you think you're going to fail, you'll fail!"
"I'm not going to fail any more than you are, Betty Nelson," cried
Mollie, her eyes blazing. "I've never seen anything yet I couldn't do
as well as you."
"Goodness, what's this?" cried gentle Amy, aghast, coming upon the
two suddenly. "You're not quarreling, are you?"
"What did it sound like--talk about the weather?" asked Mollie
sarcastically. "You just wait and _see_ what I'll do, Betty Nelson!"
and she marched out with her nose in the air.
"Oh, dear," sighed Amy; "and I thought everything was going so
beautifully."
"It is," chuckled Betty, and hustled the bewildered Amy out another
door of the tent.
Then came Allen, dressed as a herald of olden times, and blew in
golden notes, a message to the people scattered about the lawn, that
the real attraction of the evening was about to begin.
The girls had worried a little for fear the big tent would not be
able to accommodate all the guests, so great had been their response
to the call of patriotism, but it was found to their intense relief
that, although a few had to stand at the back, all could be admitted.
The first part of the program consisted of music, recitations and
some very cleverly arranged tableaux. Everything was remarkably good,
as the hearty applause testified, and behind the scenes everywhere,
was jubilation.
"Now if we only do as well," said Grace, as the improvised curtain
dropped, signaling the intermission, "we'll not have anything to
worry about."
"We will," said Betty confidently. "Jean, you did wonderfully," she
added, to the girl who had been the elocutionist of the evening. "I
thought it was wonderful at the last rehearsal, but you outdid
yourself to-night. And you, too, Larry. Oh, it's such a success!"
They fairly danced with impatience during the intermission, and were
ready with their costumes and stage settings before the ten minutes
was up.
"Oh, I'm so frightened, I can hardly stand up," chattered Amy as she
and Betty stood together, waiting for the endless last minute to drag
past. "Betty, if this is stage fright, it's a lot worse than I
thought. I can't think of a line I have to say."
"Well, you'd better not keep that up _too_ long," returned Betty
grimly. "It might be serious. There, that's Allen's cue."
Local talent had even produced an orchestra for the sketch, and
although once in a while, the cornetist forgot to toot, or the first
violin became excited and left the rest of his flock behind to follow
him as best it might, still the music was pretty good and added
considerably to the general effect.
And the play was the crowning glory of the evening! The stage fright
which had threatened to overwhelm the actors, magically disappeared
when they found themselves put upon their mettle, and they frolicked
through the play, with an ease and naive enjoyment that delighted
their audience and brought storms of applause.
The play was called, "A Day in Court." It was a professional
production which had been almost completely rewritten by Allen and
Betty. The judge was a woman, and the various characters brought
before her, were all more or less funny. One character had originally
been a German servant girl, suing her mistress for wages, but this
character, on account of the war, was changed to Irish, and was
impersonated by Amy with marked success.
Betty was the woman judge, and the way she laid down the law was most
marvelous, and brought forth many peals of laughter.
Will, in a most ridiculous costume, performed the offices of court
clerk.
Mollie impersonated a French flower girl, who had failed to receive
pay for bouquets sold to a local dude, a part played by Roy Anderson,
and it developed during the court scene, that the dude was engaged to
two girls at once, impersonated by Grace and another girl.
There was an irate uncle of one of the girls, none other than Frank
Haley, and Allen as the brother of the other girl, who also demanded
satisfaction, and the mix-up in the courtroom was most realistic.
"About the funniest thing I ever saw in my life," was Mr. Nelson's
comment.
"They are certainly doing remarkably well," answered Mrs. Billette,
who chanced to sit near by.
"If those youngsters keep on doing as well as that, they'll all want
to go on the professional stage," remarked Mr. Ford.
All during the ice cream and cake part of the entertainment the young
performers were fêted and congratulated, till they began, as Roy
expressed it, "to feel themselves some punkins."
It was late before the last guest had departed, still laughingly
bandying jests back and forth, and the Little Captain and the group
of her particular chums and followers were left alone. Then--
"I wish it were beginning all over again," said Amy, leaning her head
against a pillar of the porch and gazing dreamily up at the stars. "I
never had such a good time in my life."
"It seems to me I'm always saying that," sighed Betty, sinking into
the hammock, and laughing up at Allen, as he stood before her. "It's
wonderful when life is just a succession of good times."
"Betty," he answered, sitting down beside her, and finding her hand
under cover of the darkness, "that's my one ambition--to make life
for you just a 'succession of good times.'"
"But I guess that never happens to anybody," she said, trying to
speak lightly. "And I don't know that just having good times is a
very big ambition. No--I--didn't mean that, Allen," she added
quickly, seeing she had hurt him. "You've always been altogether too
good to me. I--I guess I don't deserve it."
"There's nothing half good enough for you," said Allen fervently.
"Betty," he added, after a slight pause, "I--I may have to go away
pretty soon, and before I go I want you to know----"
"Say, Allen, are you going home like a respectable citizen, or shall
we have to use force?" It was Roy who accosted him, and Allen
muttered something under his breath.
"I'm going home when I get good and ready," he was beginning, when
Betty herself jumped to her feet and held out a hand to him.
"It _is_ getting late," she said, "and we're all going to meet to-morrow,
anyway, so we won't even say good-bye. _Au revoir,_ everybody. It's
been such a night!"
As she stood on the porch waving her hand to them, Allen hesitated a
moment, started forward, then ran back again.
"There will come a night," he whispered, close in her ear, "when you
won't get rid of me so easily."
And Betty, left alone, smiled a new smile at the stars.