"No, but—but—it's awful to have so many folks staring at you, and cat-calling, too."
"You spoiled both acts."
"I did my best," pleaded Livingston Palmer.
"Then you'll never make an actor if you live to be a hundred years," responded Jack Dixon, and with this cold cut he walked off, leaving Palmer the picture of misery and despair.
But the scene was not yet ended, and scarcely had Dixon turned away when there came another roar and a hiss. The unfortunate captain had fallen down with his sword between his feet. In trying to pick himself up he had upset a small table, scattering the books thereon in every direction. His wig came off, and when he managed to gain his feet once more it was found that his coat was split up the back for a foot and over.
"They are a disgrace to the opera house!" came the cry.
"They are no good!"
"Let us give 'em something to remember us by!"
The last suggestion was greeted with a wild assent, and soon half a dozen different articles landed on the stage, including the core of an apple and a half-decayed orange. In the midst of the uproar a number of the audience started to leave and the drop curtain came down with a bang.