IN THE GREEN-ROOM
Time: Three months later.
"Half hour! Half hour!"
The resonant cry of the call-boy, making the rounds of the dressing-rooms of the Globe Theater, penetrated to the great empty green-room, immediately adjoining the star's dressing-room. Downstairs, from the musicians' room, came the sounds of the scraping of violin bows across the strings, the occasional toot of the French horn or the preliminary notes from a flute. Through the green-baize doors leading to the stage came the sounds of shifting scenery as the stage hands set the first act of "The Village Maid." A curtain was half drawn across the entrance to the adjoining star's room, behind which the faithful Lizzie of the boarding-house, now transformed into a real maid for an actress, was busily engaged preparing the toilette articles and the costumes of Miss Martha Farnum, actress.
Messenger boy 735, his diminutive figure almost hidden beneath a gigantic box of flowers, was escorted through the baize doors by old Pete, the back-door watchman.
"Put 'em down there, sonny," directed Pete, pointing toward a couch in the green-room. "And then vamoose quick. I got to watch the door, 'cause Miss Farnum ain't come in yet."
Number 735 deposited the flowers as directed, carefully cut the strings, opened the box, and was in the act of breaking off a fine American Beauty when Lizzie fortunately caught sight of him from the dressing-room.
"Here, you thief. Don't you dare," she cried.
"I only wanted one, lady," replied 735. "Gee, if I was an actress with all them blooms, I'd be glad to slip one of them to a kid who's going to sit up in the gallery and applaud your old show."
"Are you going to see the play?" asked Lizzie.