"Its proper place is on me," said the Tenor.
"Well, we'll see it's all right to-night," said Mr. Quisby, with impatience. "If you're so ill, you had better get home and rest your voice, hadn't you?"
"I should be only too glad to be at home," rejoined the Tenor stiffly. "I just called attention to the matter for the sake of the scene.... Interests of the Show at heart!"
"Where do I speak from now, Mr. Quisby?" murmured Miss Vavasour.
"You're on the balcony, my dear—up left. 'And now ta-ta, my Romeo'! Get on with it, get on!"
"One moment, Miss Vavasour!" put in the Tenor, coming back. "You mustn't speak too soon, there; I expect an encore! Take your cue from me."
She nodded helplessly. "'And now ta-ta, my Romeo.'"
"''T is not the nightingale, let's have a lark!'" read the prompter. "'Come out to supper!——
'For thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my 'ead——'"
"Come to cues!" said Mr. Quisby, stamping.