“Nonsense!” replied Bob. “Nobody threw anything at you when you were acting in a regular theater, did he?”
“No,” admitted Larry. “That is, nothing except big bunches of American Beauty roses,” he hastily added.
“Oh, of course, that’s understood,” gibed Joe. “I suppose you had to hire a big truck every evening to cart them away.”
“Yes, every evening,” grinned Larry. “And the applause——good gracious! The people for blocks around used to complain about it.”
“You don’t get much applause now,” laughed Bob. “How does it seem to perform for the benefit 206 of a telephone transmitter instead of an audience?”
“It never bothered me much,” replied Larry. “It seems to be pretty hard for some of the actors, though, especially the comedians. When they spring a funny joke they’re used to hearing their audience laugh, and when they don’t hear anything, they get peeved sometimes. They can’t get used to the blank silence after their best efforts.”
“I can easily understand how it would have that effect,” said Bob. “It might save them a lot of trouble, though. Take the case of a black-face artist. He wouldn’t need to put on any make-up at all, if he didn’t want to.”
“But if they don’t, they don’t feel natural, and it’s apt to spoil their act. An actor is pretty temperamental, you know.”
“Well, I’m beginning to feel that way myself,” sighed Joe. “I wish it were time for us to spring our stuff on an unsuspecting public and get it over with. It must be pretty near time for the first number now, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” answered Larry. “We’d better go on up to the transmitting room. The worst crime a public performer can commit is to be late, you know.”