CHAPTER VIII
Something Happens
THE charitable boys returned from the Little Sisters early in the afternoon, aglow with the warmth of their own good deeds, in time to take a rest and an early supper, and put themselves in good condition for the play that evening. It was the Seniors' night, and they were to present “Richelieu” for the first time at St. Cuthbert's in years. The last performance of that great play, ten years ago, had been a brilliant success. The present generation of student actors were nervously anxious to equal, and, if such a thing were possible, to excel the reputation of the bygone players.
To make the situation more critical, several of the old boys who had taken part in the play at its former presentation had been invited to witness its reproduction. Six or seven, stirred by the memories of old times, had accepted the invitation. They were the welcome guests of the college for Christmas week. It can, then, be well understood that this play was to be the great event of the holidays.
The afternoon passed quickly and already the college theater was lighted. Already the boys had more or less noisily scrambled to secure the best positions. Suddenly the footlights shot up, sending a thrill of expectancy through the audience. Amid a rather unmeaning applause, for as yet it was certainly unearned, the orchestra took their places.
Before the curtain, much expectancy; behind it a much larger amount of suppressed excitement.
Some of the actors were busy scanning over their lines for the last time, and with regretful haste, sorry now that they had not taken more to heart the advice of the trainer and committed them to memory better. Others were thronging around the busy make-up man, getting into his way, and—as always happens—upsetting the spirit-gum used to fasten on artificial mustaches and beards.
Roy Henning, in the scarlet robe and white fur tippet of Richelieu, nervously tugged at a blue silk ribbon which was around his neck, and patiently waited his turn for his make-up.