“An engagement ring, dear; an engagement ring! Perhaps you’ll believe me now!”
Pa and Ma, when they had recovered from their surprise, had time to lay their heads together and replace the ring, pretending to know nothing, to be watching more closely than ever ... and then Pa had gone out; for, if Lily, who was walking with the apprentices, had come home just then, he could not have resisted the temptation to smack her face. It was better to go out and postpone the explanation until later. He had, indeed, resolved never to beat his daughter again ... but still! And he clenched his fists and ground his teeth when he reached the theater.
On the stage, he looked round for Tom, who should have been there to mend a tire. He saw nothing at first: only a few electric lamps studding the darkness; a faint glimmer lighting up a number of properties; farther on, the dull gleam of stacked-up bikes; and, lastly, Tom, with his cap cocked back and trousers turned up, trying—brrr!—to do a clog-dance!
“Bravo, Tom!” shouted Clifton, the moment he saw him. “Just you wait a bit. I’ll teach you to dance: with the clogs on your hands and your head downwards, damn it! Here, take this to go on with!” continued Pa, fetching him a clout on the shoulder. “And get to the bikes and hurry up, or I’ll smash your jaw in!”
Meanwhile, Jimmy had also come, unseen by Pa. And the great batten lit up: the stage came to life again. Right up above, in the galleries from which the ropes were worked, mysterious forms moved to and fro. The iron curtain rose ... there was a clash of orchestra ... Jimmy, with his back against the drop-scene and his face to the stage, gave sharp orders....
Pa watched the scene vaguely from the wings. He gnawed his mustache: the apprentices would be there soon, with his Lily. And he had something to say to the stage-manager; something of a delicate character.
But Clifton was surprised to see Jimmy instead of the usual stage-manager:
“Hullo! So it’s you now,” he couldn’t help saying.
“Why, yes, Mr. Clifton; since this morning. The other chap’s ill, you know. Harrasford asked me to take his place ... for a few days, I suppose ... or perhaps longer. Do you want to speak to me, Mr. Clifton?” added Jimmy, observing Pa’s look of embarrassment. “Just a minute and I am yours.”
Two tall footmen, caparisoned in velvet and gold, disappeared behind the curtain with the number of the next turn. They came back in a few seconds. Jimmy pressed a button. The stage filled with light and noise, the turn marked on the program entered and, suddenly, under the dazzling light, it was a series of somersaults, of flights from shoulder to shoulder, and the muffled fall of feet on the thick carpet.