"And your poor shoulder only yesterday?"
"And my poor knees only last week!" ruefully groaned Sybil, tenderly sopping some arnica dregs upon the bruised member.
"Oh, those black knees!" giggled Dorothy, "they looked as if you had knelt in the coal cellar!"
"You heartless little beast!" cried Sybil. "See here, if you laugh at my professional troubles and ensuing physical pains—I'll——"
"You can't pound me," triumphed Dorothy, "my arm is too weak!"
"No, but I can do worse! Lena has fully informed you of the horrors that follow upon 'calling a maid by a married name,' and the certainty that said maid will never have a married name to be called by, so Mrs.—Mrs.——"
"Oh, Syb! Syb! don't!" pleaded the repentant one. "Syb, I'm awfully sorry for your knees—honestly I am! And if I could fall for you, I would—gladly; though how in mercy's name actresses tumble down in faints or in death-scenes, without either breaking their bones or getting laughed at, is more than I can understand."
"Oh, it's the fear of being laughed at that tortures me, Dorrie. I could never, never face an audience again. Why, last summer out at the Soldiers' Home theatre, a woman had to fall in the play and the people fairly screamed with laughter, and a newspaper said that 'Miss —— had not fallen, but had tumbled down in sections.' Ever since I have been studying this part, I have agonized over my fall, and with what result? I've bruised myself from head to foot; shaken mamma's nerves—crumbled the ceiling—frightened papa out of the house at each crash, and"—actually tears were in Sybil's dark eyes—"and I always land in a hunched-up heap that would arouse scornful merriment in the very supers."
"Poor Sybbie!" condoled Dorothy. Then more brightly: "As you can't ask Mr. Thrall or Mr. Roberts to help you, why don't you go over to Brooklyn; make papa take you—Claire Morrell's playing there this week. Ask for just a moment's interview, and make a clean breast of your trouble to her. I'm sure she would help you—she's so kind."
"Oh, I hate to trouble her when she is working so hard; and, besides, I am afraid falling is a thing that can't be taught, Dorothy. But, oh, do you remember her lovely fall in 'Camille'—the ballroom one I mean—all stretched out so long and smooth, and yet falling with a crash that made you nearly leap from your chair? It's a mystery beyond my solving."