Then rushing back to Moll, Nell threw both arms about the girl triumphantly. “There, Moll,” she said, “is your basket and all the trophies”; and she gave Moll the basket with the glittering coins jangling in it.
“Your cue–your cue is spoken, Mistress Nell,” shrieked Dick from the stage-door.
Nell heeded not. Her eyes happening upon an orange which had fallen near the throne-chair, she caught it up eagerly and hurled it at Manager Hart.
“Forsooth, here’s another orange, Master Manager.”
He succeeded in catching it despite his excitement.
“Your cue–your cue–Mistress Nell!” came from every throat as one.
Nell tossed back her head indifferently. “Let them wait; let them wait,” she said, defiantly.
The stage-beauty crossed leisurely to the glass and carelessly arranged her drapery and the band of roses encircling her hair.
Then the hoyden was gone. In an instant, Nell was transformed into the princess, Almahyde. The room had been filled with breathless suspense; but what seemed to the players an endless period of time was but a minute. Nell turned to the manager, and with all the suavity of a princess of tragedy kissed her hand tantalizingly to him and said: “Now, Jack, I’ll teach you how to act.”
She passed out, and, in a moment, rounds of applause from the amphitheatre filled the room. She was right; the audience would wait for her.