It was only spoken one night. But the audience was so heartily kind to us all that many of us had tears of sheer gratitude in our eyes. We were in evening dress and were formed in a crescent-like line from box to box, as the heavy red curtains parted revealing us, and Mr. Daly was very proud of his family of manly-looking men and gracious women, and the audience greeted the assembled company heartily. But that was nothing to the welcome given as each favorite actor or actress stepped forward to speak—and I was happy, happy, happy! when I found myself counted in as one of them, with the welcome to the beautiful Davenport, Jewett, Dietz, to the ever-favored Mrs. Gilbert, no longer, no heartier than my own! And as I bowed low and gratefully, for just one moment I could not help wishing that I had an important part to play, instead of the childish thing awaiting me.
The prologue being over, Mr. Daly, with a frowning, disappointed face, told those of the play to make all possible haste in changing their dresses, that they might get to work and rub out the bad impression already made.
Every important occasion seems to have its touch of the ridiculous, and so had this one. The "bustle"—the big wire affair, extending to the bottom of the skirt, had reached its hideous apogee of fashion at that time, yet what possible relation could there be between that teetering monstrosity and grace or sentiment or tragedy? Surely, I thought, this girl-pupil, brought straight from convent-school to country-home, might reasonably be bustleless—and I should look so much smaller—so much more graceful! But—Mr. Daly? Never—never! would he consent to such a breach of propriety! Fashion his soul loved! He pored over her plates! he bowed to her mandates!
My courage having failed me, when I hurried to my room I put on the obnoxious structure; but one glimpse of that camel-like hump on the back of Alixe, and the thought of the fall in the chair made me desperate. I tore the mass of wire off, and decided to keep out of sight till the last moment, and then make a rush for the stage.
"Ready, Miss Morris?"
"Ready!" I answered, as the question was asked from door to door.
In a few moments the call-boy came back again: "Are you ready? Everyone is out there but you."
"Oh, yes!" I said, showing myself to him, but still not leaving the shelter of my room; and I heard him saying: "Yes, sir, she's all ready, I saw her."
The curtain rose. Only a few lines were spoken before my entrance. I dared wait no longer—heavens! no! for there was Mr. Daly coming for me. I gathered up my skirts as bunchily as I could and ran out; but I could not deceive Mr. Daly. In an instant he missed the necessary camel's hump. "Good heaven and earth!" he shouted, "you've left your bustle!"
I broke into a run. "Wait!" he cried, loudly. He dashed into my open room, caught the big bustle up, and dragging it like a great cage behind him, came plunging down the entrance to me, crying: "Wait—wait!" and waving the other hand commandingly above his head.