After Clarice had placed her bag in the bedroom--and only then did it occur to her that she could have assumed her evening dress in Town--she ordered a hansom, and drove to the Mascot Music Hall. It was a magnificent, palatial structure, decorated and painted and gilded like the Golden House of Nero. For the first time in her quiet life Clarice found herself in such a place, and was astonished at the blaze of light, the number of well-dressed people, the quantity of flowers, and the numerous aids to pleasure which she beheld on every hand. Also, she was surprised to see what a lot of liquor was drunk, and wondered if it was necessary to keep up her assumed character by ordering a whisky and soda. Although some acrobats were performing on the splendid stage, it was yet early, and the house was not yet quite full. Clarice was thus enabled to secure a very comfortable stall. As the evening grew later, the seats on all sides of her were gradually filled, but she found that the one next to her remained empty.
The performance was of the usual class, and showed little originality, although it was entirely new to the girl, who had lived most of her life in Crumel. Acrobats tumbled, thought-readers performed their wonders, musical Americans played various instruments, and interspersed their jangling with United States slang, delivered in nasal voices, and various crack comedians sang the comic songs of the day, which were--Clarice thought--but dreary productions. She enjoyed the performance, however, as it was all new to her, but wondered what Ferdy could find in the "turns" to come there night after night. Perhaps "The Birth of the Butterfly" would be more artistic and amusing, and it came on at nine o'clock. This was the especial moment for which Clarice had waited all the evening.
Immediately before the curtain rose on the sketch, a little overdressed woman came pushing along to the vacant seat beside Miss Baird. She turned to see who it was, and to her dismay recognised Mrs. Dumps. The little woman also recognised--as she thought--Clarice's brother, and exchanged greetings very affably.
"Though I'm not astonished to see you here, Mr. Ferdinand," said Mrs. Dumps, in her voluble way, "Zara says that you come nearly every night to see her sketch."
"Don't you come yourself, Mrs. Dumps?" said Clarice, carefully imitating her brother's voice, and rejoiced to see that even keen-eyed Mrs. Dumps did not know her.
"I don't," said Mrs. Dumps, screwing up her mouth. "I've been weeks in London, but this is the first time I've been to see Zara play, although she has begged me on her bended knees. But I was brought up a Churchwoman, and I don't hold with theatres, much less with ungodly music-halls. Zara would go on the stage, being always bent on having her own way, although I said I'd curse her if she did."
"And did you?" asked Clarice, quietly, perfectly certain that her disguise could not be penetrated.
"What would have been the good?" said Mrs. Dumps, crossly, "seeing that Zara is my own daughter, and my only one, and not Dumps' child either, though she took his name. My first husband was her father, Mr. Ferdinand, so when you marry her, you will have to take her as Sarah Twine, that being the poor man's name. Hush! here's the piece beginning. I do hope it's respectable. Zara said it was, else I should not have come. Oh, dear me," wailed Mrs. Dumps, in an under tone, "how dreadful it is to have my child and Twine's appearing on the wicked, wicked, bad, evil, shameless stage."
Clarice would have liked to question Mrs. Dumps further about the marriage, but that the curtain rose, and she had to pay attention to the sketch. The scene represented, very picturesquely, a garden of roses, and at the back was a Brobdignagian flower, upon which lay stretched out a gigantic green worm. This was probably the Chrysalis, which it had been Ferdy's ambition to act. While the music thrilled through the air, and the lights rapidly changed, the worm began to writhe and to execute acrobatic feats. It twisted and turned on the small space--comparatively speaking--of the flower, and finally crawled across the stage, wriggling grotesquely. Mrs. Dumps was annoyed.
"To think that a child of mine and Twine should make such an exhibition of herself," she said, indignantly.