PLAY-ACTING
'Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.'
The winter set in cold and frosty, and as Christmas drew near the snow
came down in real earnest, covering the fields with its white carpet,
and turning Sky Cottage into a very good imitation of a Swiss chalet. It
was chilly work getting up in the dark mornings by candle-light, and
driving off to school when the sun had scarcely risen; the four miles of
road seemed much longer than they had done in the summertime, and in
spite of woollen gloves, the hand which held the reins was apt to be
stiff and numb with the cold long before Warford was reached.
'I wish I were a cat!' said Peggy one morning, quite roused to envy by
the contemplation of Tabbyskin's toilet, 'to have no trouble with
washing or dressing; only just to jump out of bed, hump up your back and
stretch yourself, drink your saucer of milk, and then lick yourself
comfortably on the hearthrug in front of the dining-room fire.'
'I think the dormouse has the best of it,' said Lilian, 'for he sleeps
straight on, and never seems to feel the frost at all. It would be a
glorious plan to retire to bed for the winter. I'm sure Nature intended
me for a hibernating animal, for I hate the cold. It makes my fingers so
stiff I can't practise nicely one little bit.'
'You'd say so if you were at school now,' grumbled Peggy. 'There is a
new housekeeper, and she manages so badly that sometimes they are only
just lighting the fires when we are going into the class-rooms. The
studio felt like an ice-house yesterday, and nobody was able to draw
properly. Some of the girls have the most dreadful chilblains on their
fingers. I'm sure one goes through a great deal to get one's education!'
'Never mind, the holidays begin on Wednesday, and then you shall have a
lovely time. If only this frost keeps up, we ought to get some skating,
and that's warm work, at any rate!'
But as regards skating, the children were doomed to disappointment, for,
with the usual perversity of the English climate, the weather changed,
and Christmas Eve brought a mild wind and drizzling rain. They trudged
through the half-melted snow to the church to help with the decorations,
for it was fun twisting holly and evergreens, and making garlands of ivy
to fasten round the pillars. Archie, who naturally was to the fore on
such an occasion, managed to climb up and hang wreaths round the heads
of the cherubs at the top of the Jacobean monument, which gave their
weeping faces quite a festive appearance for once. Each of the Crusaders
was accorded a cross of yew, and the Elizabethan lady and gentleman had
a special decoration all to themselves. Lilian transformed the pulpit
into a perfect bower, weaving in holly and laurels till the Rector hoped
she would leave room for him inside it; and Peggy and Bobby helped--or
hindered--the schoolmistress as she adorned the font with a wonderful
arrangement of cotton-wool and frosted leaves.
Luckily Christmas Day was fine (for a wet Christmas is enough to damp
the stoutest spirits), but after that the weather indulged in such a
variety of changes, alternately freezing and thawing from day to day,
that there was no time for a safe crust of ice to form even on the
smallest and shallowest of ponds. At the first fall of deep snow Archie
had mounted both himself and the children on Canadian snow-shoes, for as
soon as his illness had allowed, he had persuaded his aunt to bring his
tool-chest into his bedroom, and had beguiled his convalescence with a
little carpentry.
At first they had all floundered hopelessly about, and it had taken some
practice even to slide a few steps; but long before they had reached the
stage of skimming over the frozen surface at the rate of eight or ten
miles an hour, which had been their fond ambition, the snow had melted
into moist and dirty slush, which was particularly trying, as they had
just decided to make a sledge out of an old packing-case, and drag
Lilian round the pasture.
As outdoor exercise was rather out of the question, amusement must
perforce be found indoors, and amateur theatricals became the order of
the day. Archie was full of enthusiasm over what Nancy called
'play-acting,' and had soon initiated his friends into all the mysteries
of drop-scenes, side-shifts, make-ups, cues, and footlights. Both
tragedy and comedy raged in the Rose Parlour, the company feeling
themselves equal to anything, from a representation of Hamlet to the
famous scene between Sir Peter and Lady Teasle. Like all their hobbies,
they rode it hard, or, as Archie elegantly expressed it, 'rolled up
their sleeves and went into it bald-headed.' I am afraid the
house-keeping languished while Lilian painted scenery on large sheets of
blue grocery paper. Nancy had to dry her washing as best she could, for
all the clothes-horses in the establishment were needed for side-wings,
and the dining-room tablecloth, being green, was generally missing,
having to do duty for such occasions as 'a grove,' 'a glade in the
forest,' or the garden scene in 'Much Ado about Nothing.'
From such constant rehearsals the actors found themselves adopting a
very stilted kind of conversation. They addressed each other as 'Ho,
knave!' or 'Prithee, kind wench!' and would answer the simplest question
by 'Yea, certes!' or 'An't please thee, my lord.' Bobby took to carrying
about an old horse-pistol which he had found in the lumber-room, and
saying 'Oddsbodkins' on all occasions, and Peggy put on such a general
air of melodrama that it seemed scarcely possible for her to speak in
plain prose; Archie was impresario, stage-manager, scene-shifter,
dresser, maker-up, and principal actor all combined, while Lilian waxed
so enthusiastic that she even sacrificed the feathers out of her last
summer's best hat to adorn the slouched head-gear considered necessary
for a due representation of Romeo.
One thing only the players felt to be missing in their entertainments,
and that was the very important feature of an audience; for what is the
use of learning up parts, and constructing scenery, if there is nobody
to come and watch you act? Peggy sounded Father on the subject of a
children's party, but he did not rise at all to the occasion.
'We can't afford it, Peggy,' he said briefly; then, noticing her look of
disappointment: 'That's where the shoe pinches, my dear child. The plain
necessities of life we are bound to have, but the state of my purse
tells me not to indulge in any luxuries, and I am afraid we must
consider party-giving under that head.'
Kind Miss Forster would probably have turned her house upside down for
Archie's gratification, but she herself was on the sick-list this
Christmas-time, so any gaieties at the Willows were equally out of the
question. Getting a hint of the dilemma, the Rector came to the rescue,
and invited the performers to give an exhibition of their skill and
talent on the occasion of the Sunday-school tea-party, which was to take
place early in the New Year. This gave quite a fresh aspect to affairs,
and great were the discussions as to what piece should be chosen,
everybody unfortunately wanting something different, and generally
utterly inappropriate, or impossible to act.
Lilian, always fond of tragedy, had set her heart on the last scene in
'Romeo and Juliet.'
'I should be Juliet, you know, stretched out on the bier, and Archie
would have to be Romeo, and come in, and think I was dead, and stab
himself, and then of course I should wake up and stab myself, too; and
Peggy and Bobby could be the Montagues and Capulets, getting reconciled
over our dead bodies.'
Archie, however, having leanings towards comedy, was not at all willing
to play the role of the despairing lover.
'We could never manage to fix up an Italian vault,' he objected, 'and I
don't see how Peggy and Bobby could represent a whole crowd of Montagues
and Capulets, however much noise they made. Why not do a scene from "The
Rivals"? You'd be grand as Lydia Languish, and Peggy would just enjoy
Mrs. Malaprop's mistakes. I, of course, should be Captain Absolute.'
'Then who would be Sir Anthony?'
'Why, Bobby would have to be Sir Anthony.'
'He _couldn't_! Bobby your father! It would look perfectly ridiculous,
and people would only laugh! No, that won't do anyhow, and we shall have
to think of something else.'
Bobby was vague as to any particular play, only bargaining he might be
allowed to bring in his pistol, and do as much fighting as possible, and
that his part should not require too much learning.
Peggy had ambitions towards the trial scene in the 'Merchant of Venice,'
with herself as Portia, having a scarlet dressing-gown which she thought
would answer beautifully for the doctor's robes, and designing Archie
for the part of Shylock, while Lilian was to don male attire, and
represent the unfortunate merchant.
'Then who is to take Bassanio and Gratiano and Salanio, and Salarino and
the Duke, to say nothing of Nerissa? Bobby can't very well act six parts
at once.'
'Can't we leave them out?'
'Leave them out! Might as well act "Hamlet" with the part of Hamlet
omitted!' said Archie with much scorn, and the problem seemed no nearer
being solved than ever.
But here the Rector again stepped in, and limited the performance to
half an hour's duration, begging them to choose something appropriate
for a Sunday-school audience, and if possible with a moral, and further
reminding them that a platform consisting of tables hastily pushed
together after the tea was concluded would scarcely give facilities for
either footlights, drop-scenes, or side-shifts, a curtain being the
utmost he could undertake to manage in that direction.
With wings very much clipped, the soaring actors had to throw aside
Shakespeare and Sheridan, and apply themselves to books of recitations
and dialogues for village schools. It was difficult to find anything of
the right length with exactly the right number of parts, but at last
Archie declared he had hit upon one which would do beautifully.
'Just four characters. You and I could be John and Mary, Lilian; and
Peggy and Bobby would of course be the children.'
'Why of course? I'm too old for a child!' said Peggy indignantly.
'No, you're not. You're small for your age, and you won't look so very
much taller than Bobby, if you wear your shortest frock. It's a jolly
piece, and should go first-rate, so we'd better decide on this right
away, and let the Rector know.'
Peggy flushed up to her eyes, and turned her back to hide her rising
tears. After all her aspirations it was a bitter humiliation to be put
down for the very minor part of 'a child,' especially by Archie. She had
been learning elocution at school this term, and knew she could both
recite and act well. Moreover, she loved to shine, and to be first and
foremost, and had looked forward to this occasion as likely to prove one
of much triumph. Very few of us are heroes when it really comes to the
point, and I grieve to say that she looked so glum, and was generally so
grumpy and discontented over the arrangement, that unselfish Lilian,
divining the cause, instantly proposed to give up her own part to Peggy,
and train a little village girl for the second 'child' instead. But this
Peggy would not allow, and rushed away to the barn to weep off her
ill-humour amongst the hay, returning in a much better frame of mind,
with several valuable suggestions for Lilian's make-up; for she was a
generous child at heart, though she could not give up her own way
without a struggle.
The small piece chosen did not require much either in the way of
rehearsing, scenery, or costumes, which was just as well, for the time
was short, and the day of the tea-party seemed to arrive almost
directly. By four o'clock the school was full of impatient children,
dressed in their best, the girls with their heads such marvels of
frizzing and curling that you could well imagine their hair had been
screwed up in plaits and papers for several days previously, while the
boys were shiny with soap and hair-oil. Lilian and Peggy were soon hard
at work pouring out tea as if for dear life, while Archie and Bobby
distributed buns and ham-sandwiches with lightning speed, which seemed
to vanish with equal quickness, for many of the boys had dispensed with
dinner in order to enjoy their tea the more.
'The big boy in the corner drank twelve cups!' declared Peggy, 'and
little Willie Jones had eight, or even nine, for I lost count; and the
boy from Monkend Farm ate at least fourteen buns. I believe he pocketed
a few, though I never could catch him!'
Peggy was in her element; she was able to manage, or, as Archie called
it, 'boss around,' to her heart's content. She kept a severe eye on the
small children, patted them firmly on the back when they choked, and
refused to allow them to grab at the cake, regulating their tea
according to her own notions of what was good for them, and turning
stolen lumps of sugar out of their pockets with the cleverness of a
detective.
Tea was over at last, and the crumby remains having been cleared away,
the tables were pushed to one side of the great schoolroom to form the
platform, while the benches were arranged in rows to accommodate the
audience, which at present was indulging in an amount of noise only to
be equalled by the Tower of Babel. Peggy, hard at work behind the
scenes, put her eye to a hole in the curtain, and surveyed the prospect
below, where children big and little were engaged in jumping over the
forms, chasing each other round the stove, and generally acting more
like monkeys at the Zoo than civilized human beings, while the Rector
strove in vain to collect them at the empty end of the room to play
games, and the curate, a shy young man fresh from Oxford, looked as if
he would have preferred to wrestle with a consignment of heathens from
the Cannibal Islands.
'Come along, Bobby,' said Peggy; 'we ought to go and help. Archie and
Lilian can arrange the scenery quite well. The Rector is getting pulled
to pieces, and poor Mr. Wentworth has lost his glasses.'
Mrs. Davenport would have approved of Peggy for once, for even the
pattern Bertha could not have displayed more energy in a parish
emergency. She promptly organized a game of 'Oranges and Lemons,'
herself leading the long tail of infants who passed under the Rector's
and Mr. Wentworth's upraised hands; she set the boys to swing
honey-pots, and the girls to play 'Drop the Handkerchief'; she boldly
interposed her small person between the fists of two fighting
hobbledehoys, and seized a little boy by the boot who had ventured to
climb up the stove-pipe; she welcomed some of the parents who had begun
to arrive for the entertainment, and found them comfortable places on
the benches, even nursing one of the babies while its mother went to the
rescue of an older child, who was being forcibly held down and sat upon
by several of its companions; and by the time the bell was rung, and the
audience requested to take their places, she was almost as hot and
pulled about as the Rector himself, but with a feeling of conscious
virtue that made up for everything.
The first part of the entertainment was to be chiefly musical, so the
proceedings began with a waltz by Lilian, who was always the Rector's
mainstay in making up a programme, and had helped at most of his
Sunday-school concerts since she was ten years old. A violin solo
followed from the village tailor, who was much applauded, most of the
hearers being persuaded that not even the band in the Warford Public
Gardens could surpass 'Bill Evans and his fiddle.' Little Jimmy Carson
recited 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' in a high, thin, piping voice,
standing on tiptoe in his eagerness to give due effect to the famous
lines, flinging out his arms wildly to indicate where
'Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them
Volleyed and thundered,'
and getting so mixed up with his aspirates that he concluded with:
'_H_onour the charge they made,
_H_onour the Light Brigade,
Noble six 'undred.'
A selection of small boys and girls sang school glees and Christmas
carols, a trifle flat occasionally, but perhaps that was the fault of
the piano, which needed tuning. The two Miss Prices from the Post-Office
warbled a mild little duet, which gave unbounded satisfaction to their
fond mamma, if to nobody else; the blacksmith's assistant roared out a
sea song in a voice like a tempest; and a young man on a visit to the
miller gave a comic song, which quite took the company by storm.
A five minutes' interval followed before the act, which was regarded as
the chief event of the evening. There was a good deal of giggling and
whispered conversation behind the scenes as the actors hastily concluded
their preparations, but at length, in response to the enthusiastic
clapping and stamping of the audience, the curtain was drawn aside by
two Sunday-school teachers, and the play began. Peggy, standing behind
one of the clothes-horses which served for a side-wing, could see the
two hundred eager faces turned towards the platform, and experienced
that peculiar sensation known as 'stage fright.' Instead of longing now
for a prominent part, she heaved a sigh of relief to think that Lilian
must begin instead, and trembled for the moment when she would be
obliged to face those watching eyes.
The piece chosen turned upon a discussion between a man and his wife as
to the relative difficulties of their work, resulting in the husband
undertaking to do the morning's duties during the absence of the
housewife. Lilian, in a print dress, apron, and sun-bonnet, made a
charming little village mother, and trotted off with her basket, leaving
many injunctions for 'John' to follow. Archie, as the husband, in
corduroy trousers, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, and a short clay pipe in
his mouth, was a capital British workman, and his struggles in the
performance of his domestic duties were the subject of much mirth. When
he broke the china, and stirred up the washing with the poker, the
audience cheered, and it shouted with delight when he upset the kettle
and burnt the bread black in the oven. Peggy and Bobby as 'the
children,' with crumpled pinafores and smudged faces, were an equal
success, for in watching Archie Peggy had forgotten her sudden shyness,
and she now threw herself thoroughly into her part, howling most
realistically when her nose was scrubbed in the wash-tub, or her hair
combed with a fork; while Bobby stole jam and resisted medicine with
lifelike zeal. Lilian's face, when as 'Mary' she returned to find her
cottage a scene of confusion, was considered excellent, and the moral of
the story was enough to satisfy even the Rector. The audience 'hoorayed'
and thumped with their thick boots on the floor, and shouted 'encore';
but as it was not possible to break the china, spill the medicine, and
upset the kettle twice over without a considerable amount of
preparation, they had to be content with the graceful bows which the
artistes bestowed upon them.
'Say them "Little Orphaned Annie" instead of an encore,' whispered
Lilian to Peggy, as the stamping still went on, and nobody seemed
inclined to go.
'Shall I?' said Peggy, flushing; for it was her best piece at the
elocution class, and she had been complimented on it by her teacher.
'Yes, go on quick!' said Lilian, pushing her forward, and catching the
Rector's eye.
Peggy was in good form that night, and I really think her recitation was
considered the star of the evening. Her gruesome voice as she recounted
what the goblins did to naughty boys made several small sinners in the
back benches shake in their shoes--many innocent infants felt they
should never dare to go to bed in the dark again; and the wild shriek
with which she ended her announcement that 'the goblins are about' quite
brought down the house, and the children shouted and yelled and cheered
as the Rector strove to get order once more, and wind up the proceedings
with the National Anthem. So Peggy had her triumph after all, even if it
were only a small one.