By a tremendous effort (the mechanics of which were not entirely concealed) Schultzy, the man, gave way to Harold Westbrook, the artist.
“You’re right, Magnolia. That’ll get ’em. You standing there like that, stunned and pale.”
“How’ll I get pale, Schultzy?”
“You’ll feel pale inside and the audience’ll think you are.” (The whole art of acting unconsciously expressed by Schultzy.) “Then Frank here has his sneery speech—so and so and so and so and so and so—and thought you’d marry the parson, huh? And then you open up with your big scene—so and so and so and so and so and so——”
Outwardly calm, Magnolia took only a cup of coffee at dinner, and Parthy, for once, did not press her to eat. That mournful matron, though still occasionally shaken by a convulsive shudder, managed her usual heartening repast and actually spent the time from four to seven lengthening Elly’s frocks for Magnolia and taking them in to fit the girl’s slight frame.
Schultzy made her up, and rather overdid it so that, as the deserted wife and school teacher and, later, as the Parson’s prospective bride, she looked a pass between a healthy Camille and Cleopatra just before she applied the asp. In fact, in their effort to bridge the gap left by Elly’s sudden flight, the entire company overdid everything and thus brought about the cataclysmic moment which is theatrical show-boat history.
Magnolia, so sure of her lines during rehearsal, forgot them a score of times during the performance and, had it not been for Schultzy, who threw them to her unerringly and swiftly, would have made a dismal failure of this, her first stage appearance. They were playing Vidallia, always a good show-boat town. The house was filled from the balcony boxes to the last row downstairs near the door, from which point very little could be seen and practically nothing heard. Something of the undercurrent of excitement which pervaded the Cotton Blossom troupe seemed to seep through the audience; or perhaps even an audience so unsophisticated as this could not but sense the unusual in this performance. Every one of the troupe—Schultzy, Mis’ Means, Mr. Means, Frank, Ralph, the Soapers (Character Team that had succeeded Julie and Steve)—all were trembling for Magnolia. And because they were fearful for her they threw themselves frantically into their parts. Magnolia, taking her cue (literally as well as figuratively) from them, did likewise. As ingénue lead, her part was that of a young school mistress earning her livelihood in a little town. Deserted some years before by her worthless husband, she learns now of his death. The town parson has long been in love with her, and she with him. Now they can marry. The wedding gown is finished. The guests are invited.
This is her last day as school teacher. She is alone in the empty schoolroom. Farewell, dear pupils. Farewell, dear schoolroom, blackboard, erasers, water-bucket, desk, etc. She picks up her key. But what is this evil face in the doorway! Who is this drunken, leering tramp, grisly in rags, repulsive—— My God! You! My husband!
(Never was villain so black and diabolical as Frank. Never was heroine so lovely and frail and trembling and helpless and white—as per Schultzy’s directions. As for Schultzy himself, the heroic parson, very heavily made up and pure yet brave withal, it was a poor stick of a maiden who wouldn’t have contrived to get into some sort of distressing circumstance just for the joy of being got out of it by this godly yet godlike young cleric.)
Frank, then: “I reckon you thought I was dead. Well, I’m about the livest corpse you ever saw.” A diabolical laugh. “Too damn bad you won’t be able to wear that new wedding dress.”