“Be sugared to that, my boy,” said Mr. Montagu Jupp.
Even now, in spite of a series of suppressed sobs from the green room sofa, the still undefeated Sir Toby showed signs of a fight. But the firmness of Montagu’s veto verged upon brutal candor. “They’ll never stand another act of you, my son,” said the great man in a Napoleonic aside.
“Let alone of your so-called play,” said the equally candid Garden. “Don’t you recognize ‘the bird’ when you hear it, you little ass?”
“’Twas Lady Elfreda let the whole thing down,” the little man persisted.
“Well, that’s a matter of opinion, my boy,” said the genial Montagu. “But I think myself, if we are going to carry on, that piano yonder had better be moved on to the stage and if they’ll stand for it I’ll give them a few selections from my refined musical entertainment.”
“The very thing, Juppy.” Garden laughed and then he winked at various members of the company. But it was seen at once that the great man, inimitable in resource, had found a possible way out.
All the same, there was one exception to the general chorus of approval. The author of the “Lady of Laxton” lifted up his voice in a loud wail of protest. “But the second act is mag-nif-i-cent, simply mag-nif-i-cent.”
“Even if it’s as good as ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ it will not be played, my son,” said Garden with grim finality. “Not on this occasion.”
While the yellow chrysanthemum lady did her best to calm Lady Elfreda’s shattered nerves, the grand piano was trundled forth into the middle of the proscenium, the curtain went up, and notwithstanding incipient boos and catcalls from the obscurer parts of the house, Mr. Jupp announced that owing to the sudden indisposition of Lady Elfreda Catkin, the remainder of the program would take the form of a refined musical entertainment. Thereupon the great man, beaming with good humor, sat down at the piano, struck a chord, slewed round on the piano stool to face the already much relieved audience, and said, “Ladies and gemmen, the first item on the program is that old but touching ballad, ‘Down Went Maginty to the Bottom of the Sea.’”
Corney Grain himself could hardly have bettered Montagu’s performance. The effect was magical, not merely upon the turbulent spirits at the back of the hall, but also upon the more patient sufferers in the more expensive seats. Not only did Montagu render the ditty in an inimitable manner, but he also induced the warriors in khaki and hospital blue to join in the chorus.