"What part have you got?"
"I understudy you, I believe, but otherwise I'm not actually in the play itself. I'm the pianist. Of course, we're only a 'fit-up,' and don't have an orchestra, but I'm at the piano all the time between the acts, and I play soft music during the love scenes, the death-beds, and the visions."
"Then I should fancy you're kept very busy?"
"Yes, there is plenty for me to do, but I don't mind that. I only want to start and do it."
"I wonder how the remainder of the company is taking this miserable idleness? Do you know any of them?"
"Oh yes; nearly all, more or less. One, Harry Douglas, lives in my street, and he and I have done double turns at music halls. He's got a voice like a seraph. He's the most glorious tenor you ever heard. He's limes-man in this company."
"Do we have limelight, then?"
"Rather, where 'Highland Mary' appears as a vision, and one or two other places."
"And what does Mr. Douglas think of it all?"
"It doesn't matter so much to him. He's working in a carpenter's shop until we start."