"As for speaking fast," he said, "the man would speak fast. Because he expects St. George will be on his tail in a minute. He says, 'I know he'll pierce my skin.' In fact, he's pretty well sweating with terror from the first moment he comes on the stage, I should reckon."
But Mr. Masterman was unprepared for any such subtle rendering of the Turkish Knight, and he only hoped that the more ancient play-actors would not come armed with equally obstinate opinions.
"We'll talk about it afterwards," he said. "Now you go off to the right, Waite, and Father Christmas comes on at the left. Mr. Baskerville—Father Christmas, please."
Nathan put his part into his pocket, marched on to the imaginary stage and bowed. Everybody cheered.
"You needn't bow," explained Dennis; but the innkeeper differed from him.
"I'm afraid I must, your reverence. When I appear before them, the people will give me a lot of applause in their usual kindly fashion. Why, even these here—just t'other actors do, you see—so you may be sure that the countryside will. Therefore I had better practise the bow at rehearsal, if you've no great argument against it."
"All right, push on," said Dennis.
"We must really be quicker," declared Miss Masterman. "Half an hour has gone, and we've hardly started."
"Off I go then; and I want you chaps—especially you, Vivian, and you, Jack Head, and you, Tom Gollop—to watch me acting. Acting ban't the same as ordinary talking. If I was just talking, I should say all quiet, without flinging my arms about, and walking round, and stopping, and then away again. But in acting you do all these things, and instead of merely saying your speeches, as we would, just man to man, over my bar or in the street, you have to bawl 'em out so that every soul in the audience catches 'em."
Having thus explained his theory of histrionics Mr. Baskerville started, and with immense and original emphasis, and sudden actions and gestures, introduced himself.