“Not his cap,” amended Austin, who was dancing a triumphant jig round his sister. “Frank left his crown here yesterday after rehearsal, and Frances can wear that.”
“And her sleeves will look all right. What a good thing your frock is of black velvet, Frances!”
By the time the young costumiers had finished they had turned out quite an effective King. Frances’s dark hair, waving to her shoulders, was pronounced “a first-rate wig” when the regal crown had been fitted on. The Carlyons declared the new King to be admirably attired; and Frances, relieved of anxiety about her costume, entered fully into the fun.
“I’m a ‘king of shreds and patches’ like Shakespeare’s man,” she chuckled; “but so long as my various garments hold together, I don’t mind! Max, if I could get a few minutes to look through this long speech, I believe I could manage without the book. I’ve heard Frank say his part ever so often.”
“You’ve helped everybody, Frances,” said Max, remembering gratefully his own indebtedness, “and now you’re going to shine yourself. You’ll have time to read up your part before you go on.”
The spirit of true burlesque is rare among amateurs; but youngsters who act for the fun of the thing, and not merely to “show off”, are often capable of excellent comedy. Carlyon had chosen with care the boys and girls who were to perform in the Travesty, and had trained them sufficiently but not too much. Entering completely into the humour of parody, one and all acted with plenty of vigour and without a trace of self-consciousness. Max and Austin had arranged a serio-comic fencing-match, which was brought to a melodramatic finish by a clever rapier trick. Frances’s play with the poisoned cup sent Betty, the lackadaisical Queen, into a series of private giggles, which she was compelled to conceal by an unexpectedly rapid demise. At last the curtain rang down on Austin’s farewell speech.
The boys and girls who during the long evening had figured on the platform assembled in the green-room for a brief chatter over their experiences. They were in high spirits and honestly happy; for they felt that they had done their best, and that their best had given several bright and pleasant hours to folks whose lives were but dull and gray.
Buns, sandwiches, and lemonade provided the Altruists’ modest refreshment. They had thoroughly earned their supper, but they hurried through it in order to make an appearance at the feast-tables of their guests. There was neither time nor place for change of dress; so the actors in their motley garb now mingled with their audience, greatly to the latter’s delight. Sweets and bon-bons tasted twice as good when handed round by Teddy in pink satin, and Lilla in white; and a whole troop of little fairies dispensed almonds and raisins at a lavish rate. The movement of the guests to the supper-tables at the end of the room was the signal for the retirement of upper-class Woodend to the neighbourhood of the platform, whence it watched its young people justifying their motto, “Help Others”.
“Austin,” whispered Frances, “aren’t you sorry poor Jim isn’t here?”
“Jim?” questioned her brother. “Why, wouldn’t he have been a cut above these good folk?”