THE RECITAL
For a few weeks after Angelina's _coup_ she had little further
opportunity to show her skill. The successor of the eloping cook proved
a capable, steady person, so in love with her new place that to
Angelina's disgust she hardly ever even took the afternoon and evening
off to which she was entitled. For it had always been Angelina's custom
in the absence of the cook to entertain some of her own friends in Mrs.
Stratford's dining-room, and to provide them with refreshments of her
own concoction.
For doing this she would have justified herself (had she thought she
needed justification) by saying that no one had ever forbidden her to
have company--and anyway, Miss Martine would never object.
In this opinion she was quite correct. But, unfortunately, Mrs.
Stratford, and not her daughter, was in charge, and the former, unlike
Martine, did not find the Portuguese girl a perpetual source of
amusement. Neither was Angelina as popular with the new cook as she had
hoped to be. Her blandishments had never availed so little to get her
what she wanted.
"And why she's so anxious to get me out of the house, I can in no ways
understand, Mrs. Stratford, and me as quiet as can be, and never saying
nothing to her when she sits there reading them novels with the big
pictures on the cover, or making faces over the pomes she's learning."
"Oh, I don't believe she's anxious to have you out of the way--only--"
"Yes'm, it's just that. She's wishing to fill the place up with company
of her own, and because I keep an eye to the ice-chest she isn't at all
pleased. I know what girls is, ma'am, and that Angelina, she's always up
to something."
Martine, when her mother repeated the substance of the cook's words,
laughed lightly.
"Oh, it's much more entertaining to have one person in the house who's
up to something. If they were all as stupid as the cook, how dull it
would be. But I can tell you what's the matter with Angelina--she is
going to give a recital."
"A recital?"
"Yes. It seems she has been taking elocution lessons ever since she had
any money of her own to spend."
"Did Miss Bourne encourage this kind of thing?"
"Oh, no, she disapproved, but she just couldn't stop her. Brenda Weston
told me all about it. Brenda thought there was no great harm in
Angelina's amusing herself this way."
"But elocution lessons must cost so--"
"Yes, that's what Miss Bourne said, and she didn't want Angelina to go
on the stage, as she threatened."
"Angelina on the stage!"
"Yes, mamma. She has even confided to me that she has been answering
advertisements of companies that want soubrettes. Of course I told her
it was dreadful, and she's promised to give up that idea for the
present. But I have taken some tickets for her recital."
"My dear, I wish you hadn't encouraged her."
"Oh, anything else would have seemed mean, and she didn't dare try to
sell you any."
After Martine's explanation, Mrs. Stratford was more patient with
Angelina. How could she expect regular work from her until after the
recital!
This was the affair that Martine persuaded Priscilla to attend with her,
as well as Lucian and Robert. The four other tickets that she had bought
in addition to those needed for her party lay unused in her desk drawer.
No one to whom she had offered them cared for them. The recital was to
be given in a place too far away.
"You are sure we are on the right car?" Martine asked, after the four
had been some time on their way.
"You said Chelsea, didn't you? well, this car is bound for the Chelsea
Ferry," replied Lucian.
"Chelsea," exclaimed Priscilla, "I didn't know we were going there!
Isn't that awfully far away? I oughtn't to go outside of Boston."
"But this is only across the harbor, and Angelina says the hall is a
very short way from the dock."
"Oh, very well," and Priscilla sank back in her seat. She must continue
with her friends and since they were prepared to go to Chelsea, she
could only resign herself to their plans.
She did not like the ferry-boat. She did not enjoy the walk to the hall.
Robert's jokes failed to amuse her, and even Lucian's college stories
grew tiresome. To tell the truth, Priscilla dreaded the explanation she
must give her aunt. Mrs. Tilworth had readily acceded to her dining with
Martine. She had objected only slightly over the telephone when
Priscilla had asked if she might go to a recital with Martine and her
brother. Priscilla had telephoned even after Martine had obtained Mrs.
Tilworth's consent.
"I am sorry that it is not to be a musical affair. I do not care for
miscellaneous programs. But there will be less harm in wasting time
Saturday than any other evening, but I must ask you to be home early. I
like to have the house locked at ten."
"Yes, aunt," and as Mrs. Tilworth had asked no questions about the
performers, Priscilla was spared the necessity of telling her that
Angelina would be the chief attraction. Yet of one thing she was now
sure, as the four journeyed Chelseaward--Mrs. Tilworth would be
displeased if she should be out late, and to return early from Chelsea,
why, that surely was an impossibility.
"I wonder what your Portuguese calls a short walk," growled Lucian,
after they had wandered about for some time after leaving the ferry.
"Thus far, every one we have asked has given us a different location. Do
you know, Martine, this whole undertaking is a fool thing? Who but you
would ever have thought of coming to Chelsea for amusement?"
"Thank you, Taps," responded Martine, sweetly, knowing that the old
nickname would stir Lucian's anger even more. She did not dread Lucian's
anger, for it never flamed very high, and while it lasted it was
sometimes rather funny.
"You have good company," continued Martine, in a calm tone,
ill-calculated to soothe an irritated brother. "Priscilla and I have to
walk just as far as you, and you ought to appreciate our being with
you."
Ungallant Lucian did not reply, and the laugh with which the girls
received some remark of Robert's did not please him.
"It may seem funny to you to be wandering around the streets of Chelsea,
but it would be more to the point, Martine, if you would gather your
wits together, and remember the hall where this foolish entertainment is
to hold forth."
At this moment by some subtle working of her mind light came to Martine,
and the next moment she had whispered the forgotten name of the hall to
Robert. Upon this Robert shot ahead of the others, and when Lucian
caught up with him, he was standing in front of a corner drug-store.
"Come," he said, seizing Lucian's arm, "I'll show you where to go. We're
ever so far out of our way. If you had left it all to me, we should have
been there long ago."
Turning the corner beyond the drug-store, and walking a few steps along
a street parallel to the one on which they had looked for the hall, the
four young people were soon at the entrance of a large building, the
lower story of which was occupied by a grocery shop.
In front of the shop was a group of half-grown boys.
"Got a ticket, Mister?" said one of them, holding the green pasteboard
card to Lucian.
Lucian, who was really an amiable youth, had quickly recovered from his
annoyance with Martine, and would not gratify Robert by showing vexation
that the latter had been more successful in finding the hall. He
suspected the truth--that Martine had helped Robert, and since they were
now at the hall, what did it matter?
"Got a ticket, Mister?" A second boy held out his hand to Lucian.
"Of course, that's why we're here," replied Lucian. "Are you selling
them?"
"No, we're giving them away. We want an aujence," was the astonishing
response.
"What _does_ he mean?"
"We'll soon know, Martine," said Priscilla, following the two others up
a long flight of dimly-lit stairs.
"Did you ever?" Martine gazed around the hall as they entered; "there
are not ten people here."
"Just thirty." Priscilla was nothing if not accurate.
"But I thought Angelina said she had sold two hundred tickets, Martine."
"Expected to sell them, Lucian, though, to tell the truth, I thought she
_had_ sold them."
"I'll wager she gave away half the seats that are occupied now. Those
are Portuguese faces down in the front."
"I paid for mine."
"I know that, Martine. You always had a foolish habit of getting rid of
your allowance almost as soon as you received it."
"That reminds me," asked Robert, "is this a charitable performance? It
would have been more charitable to let us stay quietly in our rooms.
Just think what a fine four hours of study Lucian and I could have put
in this evening."
"Yes, you are so apt to study Saturday evening," interposed Martine;
"but to answer your question, I can't say that this is wholly
charitable. Part of it is for a girls' club over here--I mean part of
the profits--and the rest--"
"Here's a poster," interrupted Lucian; "let's see what it says."
"It's easy enough to read. It must have been meant for bill-board
decoration. Big black letters on green paper. Listen!" and after reading
aloud place and date, Lucian continued:
MISS ANGELINA ROSA
THE EMINENT MONOLOGUIST,
WILL GIVE ONE OF HER CHOICE RECITALS
FOR THE BENEFIT OF
THE GIRLS' EXCELSIOR CLUB
AND A HALF-ORPHAN
"A half-orphan!" shouted Robert. "What in the world--?"
"Why, she means herself, of course; her father is dead."
"Oh, I see!" and then, after the fashion of young people, the four began
to giggle.
"Hush! the audience will be disturbed." Priscilla was the first to
recover herself.
"What audience?" asked Martine, looking around the almost empty hall.
"It's fifteen minutes past eight." Lucian closed his watch with a snap.
"There's something happening. I wonder what it is. Two or three of those
foreigners have gone behind the curtain."
At half-past eight Angelina had not appeared. Lucian proposed going
home. Martine thought she ought to find Angelina to learn if anything
serious had happened. Some of the boys in the front seats scuffled
angrily. The hall was neither well heated, nor well lit. Every one was
uncomfortable.
"I think that we really ought to go home," whispered Priscilla,
half-timidly, to Lucian. But just at this moment the curtain was pushed
aside, and Angelina appeared in the centre of the stage.
In her pink satin gown with its tawdry trimmings at neck and sleeves,
she looked "blacker and skinnier than ever," as Lucian put it. Just
behind her walked a man who stumbled over her train, and then with a bow
began to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is most unfortunate that this lady and I may
not be able to give our entertainment as advertised."
Hisses from the front soon interrupted the speaker.
"What has he to do with it?"
Lucian looked again at the poster where "Mr. Smithkins, accompanist"
appeared in small letters at the bottom.
Mr. Smithkins resumed his speech: "The fact is there's been some
misunderstanding with the owner of this hall, who refuses to let us
proceed until the rent has been paid in advance."
"Yes, every cent of it," and a stout woman with a red face and a bonnet
trimmed with purple flowers pushed her way from behind. Angelina waved a
large red fan nervously, but otherwise did not appear discomposed. She
was at least the centre of the stage and although the audience was
small, all eyes were certainly fixed on her.
The eloquence of the stout lady quite drowned the words of Mr.
Smithkins, making vain efforts to give his version of the situation. But
after the hubbub had subsided, it was fairly clear to those present that
Angelina had failed to pay the fifteen dollars she had promised in
advance for the hall. Moreover, it was even clearer that Mrs. Stinton,
the owner of the building, meant not only to stop the entertainment, but
also to prevent Angelina's "skipping," without giving her her due.
"Will they arrest her?" asked Priscilla, anxiously.
"Oh, no, of course not; Angelina must pay the money."
"But you heard Mr. Smithkins say that she had been disappointed in the
sale of tickets, and hadn't a cent even to pay him, and if he could
afford to wait, Mrs. Stinton ought to be able to wait too."
"Give us a song or a pome," called a voice from the rear of the hall.
The boys, who had been lounging at the door, were now inside.
Lucian and Robert rose from their seats.
"Excuse us for a moment," said the latter to Martine as the two made
their way out into the aisle.
"Why, they're going behind the scenes," said Priscilla, in surprise.
Still more surprised was she when Lucian, raising the curtain, beckoned
to Mrs. Stinton. The latter, impressed by the young man's appearance,
went behind the curtain, and Mr. Smithkins, anxious to understand what
was going on, followed her. Thus Angelina, to her own great
satisfaction, was left in possession of the stage.
When Mr. Smithkins, a little later, appeared before the audience, he had
the pleasure to announce, as he phrased it, that Mrs. Stinton's demands
had been paid in full by a friend of the talented Miss Rosa, and that
the performance would go on as advertised.
In promising this, however, Mr. Smithkins went a little too far. The
cold hall, the low-necked gown, the long wait in which the young
monologuist had heroically concealed her anxiety, all proved a great
strain for Angelina.
Although she began bravely enough with what she considered the gem of
the repertoire, the monologue was given quite tamely, and though she
continued it to the end she was evidently glad to stop. It was at this
point that Mr. Smithkins showed himself of especial service, as he
seated himself at the cracked piano. There he pounded out a number of
popular airs to the great delight of the audience, and received far
greater applause than poor Angelina.
Nevertheless, when Angelina appeared for the second time, there fell at
her feet a large bouquet of carnations, for which she bowed her
acknowledgments several times.
It was all very pathetic as well as absurd. The dimly-lit, cold hall,
the empty seats, the little figure bowing on the platform. Martine,
always ready to see the amusing side of things, began to laugh. The rest
of her party, even the considerate Priscilla, echoed the laugh. Then it
spread to the front seats, and when Angelina was in the midst of her
second selection, one in which she meant to move her audience to tears,
all she could hear was one prolonged giggle. Poor Angelina! This
laughter was the last straw. Still holding the flowers and the fan, she
threw one angry glance toward the house, and then turning her back on
friend and foe alike fled behind the curtain.
"There, Martine, you've done it. It was your giggling that set them off.
You ought to go behind and console her." Lucian seemed in earnest.
"It's half-past nine." Robert looked at his watch.
"Then we ought to start for home. We are so far away."
There was nervousness in Priscilla's tone.
Martine had made no effort to go to Angelina.
"How is the prima donna to get to town?" asked Lucian. "Are you going to
look after her, Martine?"
"Oh, no, her brother John is here. He is that tall, good-looking youth,
standing near the door. She can depend on him."
"Then we may start," continued Lucian, "even if the show isn't wholly
over. We cannot wait for further instalments."
"We've had more than the value of our money," added Robert. "Mrs.
Stinton's performance alone was worth the price."
"Yes, girls, you should have heard her express her surprise and
gratitude when we gave her the fifteen dollars, and when we told her we
were Harvard students, she could hardly believe it."
"But what did Angelina think?"
"Oh, we told her, Martine, that you had sent it, and that she must pay
it back gradually. So you see that you, dear sister, will make the most
out of this evening, as we'll let you keep whatever she pays back."
With Angelina's _fiasco_ to talk over, the four found the journey back
to town much less tiresome than the "voyage," as Martine called it, to
Chelsea. It seemed shorter, perhaps, because Robert discovered that they
could return to Boston by a bridge instead of the ferry. When at last
they left Priscilla at her door, it was not as late as it might have
been if Angelina had carried out her full program.