The leading lady had changed too. She no longer looked like Mrs. Gamber. She replied happily, "If we spur our hosses, pardner, we can ambush them galoots at Bald-eagle Pass. Shake a leg, pardner, and we'll larn them rattlers a lesson they'll never furgit."
The scene blacked out. After a second or two a perspiring master of ceremonies appeared and stammered, "Ladies and gentlemen, due to technical difficulties beyond our control we—er—cannot bring you the rest of this touching love scene. However, I know you'll just love our next attraction, a juggling act by that famous foursome, the Juggling Jugheads."
Everything that the Juggling Jugheads touched seemed to be under a curse. It dropped—dropped and shattered. Carrie had never been part of such an embarrassed audience. It was the most painful thing, outside of seeing Bill and Mrs. Gamber, that she had ever witnessed.
Next came a comedy act. This was even worse. A famed star of slick sophisticated comedy told jokes and made puns of which James would have been ashamed. Carrie hid her head in her hands.
She said suddenly, "This is just too awful. Clara, please turn it off."
Clara Munro was looking dazed herself. She turned off the set and said, "What on earth happened to them? In that first scene the hero and heroine looked like you, Carrie, and Mr. Gamber."
"Like me?"
"Like you, Clara," said Mr. Munro.
Carrie said, "I think we must all be seeing things. Anyway, they're usually so good. And tonight they were terrible."
"There seems to be some sort of insanity abroad," said Bill. "And it almost looks as if it's catching."