Chapter VIII.
AN AUTHOR’S TRIALS.
When the dinner was ended—and the members of the dramatic company made short work of it in order to begin their professional duties as soon as possible—Mopsey Dowd fully realized that he was about to pass in judgment before his partners. Whether he was entitled to it or not, he had some considerable fame as an author, and for that reason he had taken upon himself, voluntarily and even eagerly, the task of preparing an original play for the great event; which goes to show, perhaps, more than anything else, that Mopsey’s fame resulted from chance rather than merit.
When he rose from the table he knew that every eye was upon him, and that each one present expected to hear him say something relative to the brain-effort he was making. He was a genius, and would be until his friends found him out, which occurrence would not be very far off if he should say anything then, for the very good reason that he did not know what to say. He knew that something must be done, and that speedily, which would bear out his claim to distinction, and, with a view to gaining time, he said:
“You fellers go into the theatre, ’cause I ain’t quite ready yet, an’ I’ll go up to my room to think over one or two things.”
This speech was very much needed just then, for Mopsey had been so reticent as to his play that his partners were beginning to suspect that he was not all he claimed to be. But now perfect trust was restored by his words, and the proprietors of the theatre went up to their temple of art feeling every confidence in the author who was struggling in the privacy of his chamber for their success.
This delay in the beginning of the rehearsal was just what Nelly wanted, for it enabled her to add what she considered would be the crowning beauty of their decorations. She had conceived the idea only that afternoon, while engaged in the busy whirl of keeping the sound peaches at the top of the basket and the unripe ones at the bottom.
A friend of hers, whose mother kept a thread-and-needle emporium that was contained in a willow basket, and displayed to the public very near her fruit-stand, was skilful in the art of making paper flowers, and from time to time had presented Nelly with specimens of her skill, until everything in the house that could be pressed into service as a vase was filled with these never-fading and odorless roses.
It had occurred to her that these flowers might be so arranged on the wall as to form the word “Welcome;” and when she suggested her idea to the boys, after Mopsey had gone into his room, they were delighted. Therefore the delay caused by the author enabled them to go to work upon this last and most beautiful of their decorations at once.
Dickey went out for a paper of tacks, and Johnny drew on the wall, directly opposite the entrance of the hall, the outlines of the word to be filled up with the paper flowers. But there was a difference of opinion among those who were watching him as to how the word should be spelled. He had drawn out the letters “Welkum,” while Paul insisted that it was not right, spelling the word correctly, and referring the matter to Ben for arbitration.