POLLY STAGGERED OUT OF THE DOOR CARRYING ELIZABETH ON HER SHOULDER.
Eleanor whispered comically to Polly, as they stood in the entrance door: “Maybe the friends hope to postpone the acting a little longer.”
When the curtain was drawn aside and the first act of the playlet began, individuals in the audience became interested in watching their own girls in the troupe. The Chorus did very well, and the Ballet danced as gracefully as well-taught girls should, but once the actual acting began, there was a slight disappointment felt by the spectators.
The leading lady (the programme said it was Miss Elizabeth Dalken) was the whole show. She managed to keep in the lime-light even when she was not speaking, or acting a part. And so much of one actress, whether good or bad, was bound to pall on the audience.
“Polly, she’s spoiling the whole play! I wonder the other girls stood for it at the rehearsals,” whispered Eleanor.
“She didn’t act that way, before, I’m sure. Marion King told me all about it. She’s doing it now just to show off!”
“Not to her family! because not one of her folks are here. I heard her tell Estelle that her mother was going to a fashionable ball, and, of course, her father wouldn’t come because he had no invitation from Elizabeth.”
“Well,” persisted Polly, feeling sorry for the girl, “she must have uncles or aunts or cousins, here.”
“She hasn’t any in New York. Her father comes from upstate and his folks lived there. No one knows who her mother was, so she hasn’t a soul, here, but the chauffeur. He’s downstairs having refreshments.”