OVERTURE: "_Medley of College Airs_" ORCHESTRA
COLLEGE TABLEAUX.
1. _Yale_ MR. BACON
2. _Harvard_ MR. PORTER
3. _Princeton_ MR. EATON
4. _Cornell_ MR. WARREN
5. _Columbia_ MR. GALLUP
6. _Dartmouth_ MR. FORREST
7. _Vassar_ MISS EMERY
ENSEMBLE.
SONG: "_The School on the Hill._"
The Audience will please join in the singing.
_Stage Manager_ MR. ROGERS
_Assistant Stage Manager_ MR. EATON
_Property Man_ MR. PORTER
_Electrician_ MR. PRYOR
_Prompter_ MR. THAYER
_Wardrobe Lady_ MISS EMERY
Automobiles and launches may be ordered for 10:45. There's no harm in
ordering.
The audience is earnestly requested not to throw garden truck or
hennery produce. Bricks may be obtained from the Gentlemanly Ushers.
Attendants will report promptly to the Management any inattention on
the part of the Audience.
Persons unable to resist weeping at the jokes will please step
outside. Rain checks may be had at the door.
A MERRY CHRISTMAS!
The public acted very considerately that evening. Whether the report had
got around that Ferry Hill needed sixty dollars for her hockey team I
can't say, but it's a fact that when the curtain went up--only twenty
minutes late!--there were exactly one hundred and twenty-eight persons
in the gymnasium who had paid for admission, and as the price was fifty
cents apiece the one hundred and twenty-eight persons meant just
sixty-four dollars in the cigar box on the table by the door! Hammond
turned out in force, almost sixty of her boys attending; Miss Cutler's
School for Young Ladies was well represented by twenty-two of Harry's
schoolmates under the protection of Miss Letitia Cutler herself; the
village contributed generously; while as for Ferry Hill, every youth not
holding an official position of some sort--and there were few that
didn't--was on hand, even Horace and Otto being unable to resist the
promises of the programme, while the culinary and dormitory force, as
well as John, the gardener and general factotum, were huddled about the
door. Down in the second row sat Doctor and Mrs. Emery and some friends
from the village. Walker and Fernald made most presentable ushers, and,
as their duties consisted principally of supplying programmes and
answering questions, they did finely.
I'm not going to attempt a description of the first part of that
entertainment. In the first place it was beyond description, far
too stupendous and awe-inspiring for my pen to do justice to. From
the time the curtain rose--as correctly as though it had never
misbehaved!--revealing the World Famous Aggregation of Senegambian
Entertainers until--well, until it fell hurriedly two hours later,
everything went beautifully. Of course there were little misadventures,
but such are expected and only add to the hilarity of an amateur show.
When Chub's tambourine flew whirling out of his hand and fell into Mrs.
Emery's lap it seemed an excellent joke. When Warren fell over a chair
and landed on all fours in front of the descending curtain, everybody
applauded uproariously. When, in the plantation sketch, the roof of
the log cabin fell in because Post had thoughtlessly leaned against
the door-frame, and Sid, in the role of Aunt Dinah, floundered
terrifiedly out through the window with a spirited rending of feminine
garments, the audience rocked in merriment.
[Illustration: "Chub's tambourine flew whirling out of his hands."]
The orchestra, a Silver Cove combination of piano, flute and violin, did
wonderfully considering the fact that it had attended but one rehearsal.
The solos, especially Mr. Cobb's and Tom Forrest's, were cordially
received. Harris and Kirby buried the hatchet temporarily and got
through "Shine, Silv'ry Star" most brilliantly and had to give an
encore. Mr. Cobb and Mr. Buckman did a ludicrous negro song which
brought the house down, though not in the same way as Post had. The
chorus work was good and the jokes took just as well as though they had
been all fresh and new. Some few of them were. When Post asked Rogers if
he knew what the principal article of diet was at the school across the
river, and when he was finally prevailed on to dispel the interlocutor's
ignorance and replied "Hammond eggs," the visitors from Hammond shrieked
their appreciation. When Harris explained that Ferry Hill was the
brightest school in the country because the students had their wits
sharpened by Emery, the Doctor chuckled most appreciatively. Even the
punning joke to which Jack Rogers had taken exception and which related
the matrimonial adventures of Mr. Cobb and a fictitious Miss Webb went
well.
Chub's imitations were distinctly clever, that of Mr. Buckman coaching
the crew throwing the Ferry Hill portion of the assemblage, at least,
into convulsions. Sid "did his worst," according to promise, and made a
hit more by his earnest desire to please than by any musical results
obtained from his banjo. Mr. Cobb's monologues were screamingly funny
and he had hard work getting away from the audience. Professor Carlos
Cole, better known as Charlie Cole of the Middle Class, didn't quite
make good all the promises of the programme, but executed some clever
tricks of palming and even managed, with some difficulty, to extract one
of Harry's pigeons out of an empty bottle--with the aid of a voluminous
handkerchief which fluttered suspiciously when produced. The sketch
entitled "Christmas Eve on the Plantation" went better than anyone dared
hope, principally, perhaps, for the reason that about everybody forgot
his lines and did what and how he pleased. The first half came to a
triumphant end with the entire company of entertainers filling the
little stage and vigorously proclaiming that they were "going to live,
anyhow, until they died."
During the intermission black-faced youths emerged from the
dressing-room under the balcony and visited friends in the audience and
the orchestra performed its "Medley of College Airs." The programme's
announcement of College Tableaux had whetted the audience's curiosity,
and when the hall darkened, the bell tinkled and the curtain--still on
its good behaviour--rolled noiselessly up, there was a general craning
forward of heads.
The painted back drop had given way to a curtain of white cloth. In
front of it stood a large oblong frame of wood covered with gilt paper.
Behind the latter, like a picture in its frame, stood Bacon on a little
white-draped dais impersonating a Yale oarsman. His costume was a blue
sleeveless jersey with a white Y stitched on it, white trunks,
turned-down socks and rowing shoes. In his right hand he supported an
oar with a blue blade. A gas pipe had been run around the inner side of
the frame and the dozens of little jets threw a brilliant light on the
motionless figure. The applause was instant and hearty. Bacon kept the
pose for a minute while the orchestra played "Boola," and then the
curtain fell again. Presently it went up to reveal Roy in his crimson
sweater, moleskin trousers, crimson stockings and tan shoes. A white H
adorned the front of the sweater and under his arm was a football. Again
the applause, quite as hearty as before, while the strains of "Up the
Street" came from the orchestra.
Chub, who came next, represented a Princeton baseball player, striped
stockings on his sturdy legs, gray shirt over his black jersey, a gray
cap set rakishly over his smiling face and a mask and ball under his
arm. The applause seemed to be more a tribute to Chub, the captain of
the Ferry Hill Nine, than to the picture he made or the college he
represented. After the music of "Old Nassau" had ceased the curtain fell
once more. Then followed Warren as a Cornell oarsman, Gallup as a
Columbia tennis player and Tom Forrest, with a sixteen-pound hammer
behind him, poised for a throw. Forrest wore Dartmouth's colors and made
an unmistakable hit.
But the audience was agog for the next picture. Harry had devised the
tableaux and had insisted upon being allowed to appear as Vassar. And
although to Jack and Chub and Roy a girl's college had seemed out of
place on the programme, yet they were too grateful to Harry for her
assistance to think of refusing her. And when the curtain rolled up for
the last time they were all very glad they hadn't. For Harry was the
success of the evening.
She was standing two-thirds-face to the audience, a black mortar-board
cap on her head, a flowing black gown reaching to her feet and a book
under her arm. The pose was grace itself. But the crowning glory of the
picture was Harry's hair. She had coiled it at the back of her little
head, thereby adding several years to her apparent age, and the intense
light of the sizzling gas-jets made it glow and shimmer like red gold. A
very bright, happy and demure-looking Vassar student she made, and a
pretty one, too. Roy, watching from the wings, could hardly believe that
the smiling, grown-up young lady in front of him was the red-haired
little minx who had "sassed" him so sharply in the stable yard that
first day of their acquaintance!
The applause grew and grew; at the back of the hall John, the gardener,
had forgotten his awe of the surroundings and was "hurrahing" loudly,
egged on by the admiring women servants. And then suddenly the applause
gave place to cries of alarm. Persons in the front row sprang to their
feet. Those behind them pushed back their chairs and, without knowing
the cause, became imbued with the panic of those in front. Someone cried
"Fire!" and instantly the place was in an uproar.
[Illustration: "It was Roy who dashed across the stage."]
But those in the wings had seen as quickly as those in the audience, and
it was Roy who dashed across the stage, picked Harry bodily from the
dais, laid her down and crushed the flames out of her black gown with
his hands before scarcely any of the others had recovered from their
momentary panic. Harry, white-faced but silent through it all, was
helped unharmed to her feet and the curtain came down with a rush. It
had been "a narrow squeak," as Chub excitedly termed it, but, save for a
fright, Harry was none the worse for the happening. But the same could
not be said for her black gown. It had fluttered against one of the
gas-jets, caught fire and had been burned away for a space of several
feet up one side. Doctor and Mrs. Emery joined Roy, Mr. Cobb and Jack as
they conducted Harry to the dressing-room and they were both
embarrassingly profuse in their praise of Roy's presence of mind. The
Doctor insisted on shaking hands and it was then that the discovery was
made that while the rescued had escaped injury the rescuer had not. Both
of Roy's hands were pretty badly scorched, although Roy tried to
convince them that they weren't. Mr. Cobb sent for oil and bandages and
Harry, in order to reassure the audience, was led before the curtain,
where she received applause more hearty than ever. The incident had
effectually ended the evening's performance and the singing of the
school song was omitted. When Harry came back to the dressing-room,
still pale and rather sober, she walked over to Roy who was seated
awaiting the "first aid to the injured," and, to his surprise, leaned
impulsively over and kissed his cheek.
"Please, Roy," she whispered, "thank you very, _very_ much! And--and I'm
sorry I was so low-down mean!"