THE SIDES OF THE 'BUSES O!
Jimmy had suddenly found himself a personage--in something of a
roundabout and accidental fashion. Paragraphs had appeared in
newspapers, giving strange accounts of the young dramatist; a
photographer had most surprisingly asked for a sitting, for which no
charge would be made, and in regard to which certain copies of the
photograph were actually to be presented to Jimmy; and many other things
had happened.
So far as the actual play was concerned, matters had not gone so
smoothly as might at first have been anticipated. The synopsis, to begin
with, seemed to puzzle Mr. Bennett Godsby not a little; he suggested
that he "couldn't see himself in it." Jimmy waited a little hopelessly
at the theatre on several evenings; had messages sent out to him by the
great man, declaring that the great man was changing--or absolutely worn
out--or that he hadn't had time to think about the matter. Finally, one
night Jimmy received a note, requesting him to call and see Mr. Bennett
Godsby at his house on the following morning.
Jimmy went, and discovered Bennett Godsby, in a sense, in the bosom of
his family--that family consisting of Mrs. Bennett Godsby, and a young
and rather plump Miss Bennett Godsby. Mrs. Bennett Godsby had at one
time appeared with her husband; Jimmy seemed to understand that there
must have been acrimonious discussions when the time came when Mrs.
Bennett Godsby was no longer young enough, nor slim enough, to play lead
with him. She had the appearance, not only of being very plump, but of
threatening to be plumper; she was somewhat negligently dressed, and she
wore even at that early hour all the rings that could possibly be got on
her short fingers. Mr. Bennett Godsby introduced Jimmy, and then led the
young man into another room in order to talk business.
"Now, my dear Larrance," he began, "I confess I'm a little disappointed.
I don't know how it is--but you haven't quite hit it; at least, that's
how it strikes me. I suppose it's lack of experience, or something of
the sort--or perhaps I was mistaken when I thought there was a play in
the thing after all. It won't carry; there's nothing in it to grip 'em."
"I'm sorry," said Jimmy, with a sinking feeling at his heart. "Perhaps
you could suggest----"
"Just what I'm going to do," said Mr. Godsby, sitting down and drawing
Jimmy's synopsis towards him. "You know"--he looked up with a pained
expression--"this thing has worried me more than you think. You'll
understand that men like myself--men who live for their art--are bound
to understand and to feel the characters they portray. I can assure you
I've found myself speaking abruptly to Mrs. Bennett Godsby--in the
fashion in which I imagine the man in your play would speak. She's been
surprised. 'Bennett,' she has said to me, 'what is this? What is
troubling you?' She knows; she's been through the mill herself--only, of
course, in a smaller way. I should love to play that character," he
added, with a sigh, as he tapped the paper.
Jimmy sat silent; he did not know what to do or what to say. More than
that, he dared not break in upon the reflections of Mr. Bennett Godsby,
for that gentleman was evidently thinking deeply. After a moment or two
the actor got up and strolled across the room, and frowned at a picture;
turned round, and frowned upon Jimmy by way of a change. "It's lack of
experience--that's what it is," he said, nodding his head sagely.
"On my part?" Jimmy looked anxious.
"Yes, sir, on your part. The brain is there--the creative force, if I
may say so; but you can't convey things. Now, if only I had the time to
set to work on that myself--but, of course, one mustn't interfere with
another man's work. Oh, no--not to be thought of."
Jimmy hastened to assure Mr. Bennett Godsby that he would value any
suggestion that gentleman cared to make--would esteem it a privilege to
do anything in his power to meet the wishes of such a man--to profit by
his experience. Mr. Godsby, saying nothing, picked up the offending
pages, and rapidly scanned them; presently sat down opposite Jimmy, and
began to go steadily through the thing, scene by scene.
The alterations were somewhat drastic, but they did not affect the plot
very greatly. The chief thing desirable seemed to be that Mr. Bennett
Godsby should turn up at effective moments; should have a scene twisted
here that would gain for him the sympathy of the audience; should have
this changed, and that made bigger, in order, as he phrased it, to "lift
the thing up."
"You see, my dear Larrance," he said confidentially, "they want _me_. I
assure you that if I'm off for ten minutes it becomes a question of
their looking round about them, and whispering, and saying to
themselves: 'Where's Bennett Godsby? Why isn't he here? Why doesn't he
lift the thing up?' I've been assured of it again and again by those
who have sat in the front of the house, and have heard those things
said. See the position it places me in!"
Jimmy said he quite saw the position, and he was honestly sorry for Mr.
Bennett Godsby. At the same time----
"Well, you see; I know what the public wants; I've sampled its tastes
pretty well. Now, my suggestion is this: I'll help you with the play;
I'll show you what it wants, and how it might be turned about;
and--well, in a sense, we'll write it together."
Jimmy pondered. "But then, you see, it wouldn't be quite my play," he
said.
"Oh, yes, it would; we're not going to quarrel about that," said Bennett
Godsby. "There's nothing grasping about me; I shall be pleased if I've
helped a young dramatist; better pleased still, perhaps, if I've got the
play I want. You keep your name to it by all means, and together we'll
make a success of it. You've got my notes there (I'm afraid I've
pencilled the thing all over, but you mustn't mind that), and you can go
to work at once. We'll call this synopsis, with its alterations, _the_
synopsis I wanted. And I'll send you a cheque to-night."
"You are really very good, Mr. Godsby," said Jimmy, rising as the other
rose, and gathering up the papers.
"Oh, that's all right; I only want to do the best for both of us,"
replied the other. "You get to work, and bring it to me bit by bit;
we'll talk it over. I won't forget the cheque. Good morning!"
Jimmy came out of the house convinced once more that there really were
some very wonderful people in the world, and that all the nonsense
talked about those in high places in the various professions ought to be
contradicted without delay. He modified that exuberant feeling a little
on receiving a letter the next morning from Mr. Bennett Godsby,
enclosing a cheque for ten pounds.
"My dear Mr. Larrance.
"Under all the circumstances, I feel you are right about the joint
authorship; if I am to do half the work (or probably more than
half) I ought to have something of the glory. I need scarcely say
it will be a good thing for you to have your name associated with
mine, and I shan't mind a bit. It will be a good advertisement for
each of us. Under all the circumstances, too, I quite see that for
half the work (or more than half, as I have suggested) I ought to
have half the pay. Therefore, I have credited my private account
with ten pounds, and I send you the other ten herewith. Good luck
to our united efforts.
"Ever yours most cordially,
"BENNETT GODSBY."
Jimmy consoled himself with the thought that, after all, it was a very
big chance for him; he saw himself connected indefinitely with Mr.
Bennett Godsby, and the two of them rising to fame and fortune (the
second somewhat more limited than he had at first imagined) side by
side. Obviously, too, Mr. Bennett Godsby would do his best for a play in
which he was so intimately concerned.
Then began for Jimmy a matter, as he afterwards described it, of waiting
on doorsteps. For, pinning his faith to the play and to the play only,
and seeing in its certain success a relief from all the hack work he had
been doing for so long, Jimmy set aside everything else for its sake;
worked at it night and day, and waited on Bennett Godsby at all times
and seasons, with scenes and ideas, as they occurred to him and as he
wrote them down. As Mr. Bennett Godsby had at least three addresses at
which he might (or might not) be found, Jimmy's task was not an easy
one. The three addresses were the theatre, the club, and Mr. Bennett
Godsby's house; and it became sometimes a stern chase on Jimmy's part to
get hold of his man. Even then, if he ran him to earth, it was a
thousand chances to one that Bennett Godsby was going out--or desired to
talk about something else--or was engaged with a visitor; and in those
days every visitor spelt, in the mind of Jimmy, a new man with a new
play to catch the fancy of the actor.
In that business of manufacturing the play Jimmy learnt much, and
incidentally almost starved himself again in the learning. Cherished
scenes and bits of dialogue had to be cast overboard and lost. Phrases
from the melodramatic brain of Mr. Bennett Godsby had to take their
place. The original pile of notes had grown into a chaotic heap of
blotted and altered sheets of paper before the thing was done; but it
was done at last, and almost to the satisfaction of Bennett Godsby.
"Mind, I won't say that we've got it," said Mr. Godsby (and be it noted
that in this time the great man had dwindled a little in the sight of
Jimmy, and did not seem quite so great). "A little more niggering at it
would have done a lot of good; but I suppose it'll have to do until we
get to rehearsals. I'll send you the other cheque to-night."
The other cheque did not come that night, nor the next morning; it came
about a week later, and it was something short of the ten pounds,
because Mr. Bennett Godsby had deducted Jimmy's share of the type
writing bill. But Jimmy looked forward to the rehearsals, and to the
production of the great play; Jimmy hugged himself over paragraphs in
the papers, in which his name was openly associated with that of the
great Bennett Godsby.
Some slight mistake had been made over the paragraphs--a little
misunderstanding. It was declared that the great Bennett Godsby,
hitherto known only in the front rank of living actors, had suddenly
blossomed out as a dramatist; had written a dramatic version of a novel
by a certain Mr. James Larrance; the paragraphs seemed to suggest that
Mr. James Larrance was lucky in having been selected for that honour.
Then, in the very midst of rehearsals, other paragraphs appeared, which
stated that the play had been written by Mr. Bennett Godsby; that he
hoped for lenient treatment from his ever faithful public in this his
first essay with such work. Jimmy pointed out the paragraph to him one
morning when they stood together on the half-lighted stage; rehearsals
were getting to an end at last.
"I can't understand it," said the great man, staring with a puzzled air
at the paragraph. "I quite see your meaning; it isn't right at all. But
these beasts of writers will say anything to get a few shillings;
they've put words in my mouth before now that I've never uttered. I tell
you what I'll do," he added, with deep indignation, "I'll write to these
people--sort of letter that they must put in, and that will help things
along a bit--and I'll tell them the true facts of the case. I'm glad you
called my attention to it, my dear Larrance; there mustn't be any
misunderstanding."
But the curious part was that when next day a letter appeared in that
paper, signed by Mr. Bennett Godsby, it did not seem to put things quite
as straight as it should have done. Much was made of Mr. Bennett Godsby
in the letter; much of Mr. Bennett Godsby's kindness to a young author,
but mighty little of James Larrance. And that morning Bennett Godsby, in
what appeared to be a towering rage, informed Jimmy that that had not
been his letter at all; "they had disgracefully garbled it."
Other mistakes occurred also in regard to printing; according to Bennett
Godsby, you never could trust a theatrical printer to put things as
they should be. Here, for example, was one scoundrel (Bennett Godsby
pointed it out himself, and almost tore his hair over it at the time)
who had had the audacity to print the name of the play, and then
underneath the authors' names, with Bennett Godsby first--and James
Larrance very much second, and in much smaller type! Did you ever hear
of such a thing; would you have conceived it possible that an
intelligent firm of printers could have committed such an outrage? Too
late now, of course, to alter it, because every bill had been printed,
and the loss would be enormous.
"However, it's all right, you know," said Bennett Godsby, taking him by
the arm confidentially, and leading him aside. "Everybody _knows_ the
real facts of the case; the public will understand that of course the
book was yours--and the title--and all that sort of thing."
"But the book isn't mentioned," objected Jimmy.
"Another oversight," whispered the other. "But, of course, everybody
knows about that, too; it was mentioned to me yesterday on several
occasions. I said to one man in particular, just as I might say to you,
'You know the book?' I said. 'Know the book?' he replied--just like
that, and laughed. It was such an absurd question--wasn't it?"
Jimmy was vaguely comforted; he felt that in all probability everybody
did know about it. More than that, he had been comforted from time to
time by the assurance of various members of the company as to the value
of certain lines, and the excellence of certain business; and they had
been careful to inform him (in whispers, and out of the hearing of
Bennett Godsby) that they knew perfectly well who had written the play,
and that Bennett Godsby could probably not have done it "for toffee."
Of course, there came the moment when by no possibility could this play
be produced; and when Jimmy sat quaking in the stalls, and wondered what
was going to happen to him. The further moment when Bennett Godsby
wondered why he had ever adopted this particular profession, when so
many others were open to him; the further moment when he did not see
what there was in the thing after all, or how it came about that he had
ever imagined this was a play that would strike the public. Then, to
crown matters, Mrs. Bennett Godsby came down, and tittered audibly in
the midst of the big scene; true, she apologised afterwards, and said
that she had not taken it "in the right spirit"; but that apology was
received with gloom.
Some two days before the actual production a card was brought to Jimmy,
while he sat disconsolately in the stalls watching Mr. Bennett Godsby
raving up and down on the other side of the footlights, and expressing
his opinion volubly concerning the musical director, and the fashion in
which the incidental music had been arranged. The card bore the name of
"Mrs. Daniel Baffall"; and the messenger whispered that the lady was in
a carriage outside. Jimmy presently went out, to find the good-natured
creature flutteringly leaning towards him over the door of the carriage,
and wondering if he remembered her.
"Why, of course," said Jimmy, "although it seems such a long time ago.
How did you find me?"
"Oh--everyone knows you," said Mrs. Baffall, glancing across at a young
girl seated at the other side of the carriage. "And we're all so
tremendously proud of you--and we can't possibly think how you've
managed to do it. Even Mr. Baffall has almost forgotten about the
warehouse--though he did say once (not meaning it in the least, poor
dear man) that he was sure you'd starve."
"We have taken a box, Jimmy," said the young girl, in the most
surprising fashion; and Jimmy wheeled about to look at her.
In a moment he remembered who this must be; yet the change in her was so
great that he might not have known, but for connecting her with Mrs.
Baffall and the carriage. For this was a radiant vision, beautifully
dressed, and belonging to the carriage far more than poor Mrs. Baffall
could ever hope to do. She held out her hand to him and laughed at his
evident embarrassment.
"You do remember me, I hope," she said.
"Why, of course--Alice," he replied. "I'm very glad you're coming; I'm
very anxious about it all."
"Oh--it's certain to be all right--and a big success," she replied.
"Aunt Baffall is making up her mind at this very moment to ask you to
come and dine with us to-night--aren't you, Aunt Baffall?"
"Yes, of course--if you think so--and if Mr. Jimmy can spare the time.
I'm sure that if I'd ever tried anything of this kind (that is, always
supposing that Baffall would have let me), I should have had such a
dreadful headache that I shouldn't have been able to eat or walk or do
anything else. You know what it is, my dear"--Mrs. Baffall turned
plaintively to Alice--"you know what it means for me when I even try to
write a letter. And when you come to a book (not that I could quite make
out the end of it, Mr. Jimmy, but I suppose you meant well), and then a
play, which, I suppose, has to be written too--it makes me feel quite
sorry for you. So that if you _can_ eat anything----"
Jimmy promised, almost with eagerness. It was a rare event in his life
to be going out anywhere in a friendly way; and he needed greatly just
then to find someone to whom to talk--someone to tell of his great
success and all that the future was to hold for him. He found himself
wondering, as he sat in the theatre, why he had not thought of Alice
before--why he had not known instinctively that she must have grown into
this flower-like creature--this rare and delicate beauty. He was to see
her to-night; he would have a chance of telling her a great deal about
himself and his work. He had been foolish to lose sight for so long of
such a girl as this; he remembered what good friends they had been in
far-off childish days. More than that, he considered with gratification
that they must regard him as something rare in the world of young men;
this boy who had been started in a warehouse, and now had blossomed into
an important man. He felt glad that they had come to find him at the
theatre.
Escaping at last from the theatre, and from what now amounted almost to
the reproaches of Mr. Bennett Godsby, Jimmy hastened to his room, and
put on his rarely used dress suit. From a financial point of view,
things were very, very wrong with Jimmy; it was only by persistently
pointing out the flattering paragraphs in the newspapers that he had
been able to convince his landlady that if only she waited for a week or
two he would be able to pay all that was due. He had tried her with a
photograph of himself, reproduced in an evening newspaper; but it seemed
that she had once had a nephew "in trouble," as she expressed it, and
his portrait had appeared in much the same fashion; she was distrustful.
Jimmy walked, because he could not afford a cab, and because also the
night was fine. And as he walked, there passed him, going along the
road, an omnibus, and on the side of the omnibus, standing out clearly
and distinctly, the name of the theatre and the name of his play; it was
there for all London to read. He wondered what people would have
thought, had they known who he was, and what the names on the sides of
the 'buses (for there were others going on other routes) meant to him.
Though he walked with but a shilling or two in his pocket that night, he
felt once again as he had felt before--that he envied no man, and that
the world was very pleasant, and that the world smiled upon him.
For he was young, and he was talked about; and he had done something
already in the world. And a pretty girl had held his hand that day, and
had said that she was proud of him; and he was on his way now to see
her. What more, in the name of Fortune, need any man ask?