"Number 17—DIVERTISSEMENT—Mademoiselle Folly in PRETENSES"
She didn't even bother to tell them about it at home. It seemed to her as casual as the Sunday afternoons when she whistled for [her accustomed audience of] the Wheezy and her friends. That is until the hectic morning when she obeyed a summons to rehearsal in the empty, auditorium—Felicia always says that the rehearsal was worse than May Day night! So too were the behind-the-scenes confusions and the nervous moments while the makeup artist dabbled her cheeks with rouge and pencilled her eyes—that left her limp with stage fright.
After all, she thought as she waited her turn, "It's only for ten minutes! And an encore if they like me!"
The moment when she actually faced her first big audience—a tired and fluttering and yawning audience, for two hours of Brooklyn amateur talent will wilt even the most valiant listeners!—she had but one thought, and that was—that there wasn't any pattern to an audience!
Other thoughts raced like lightning.
"But I must remember to smile. They are persons and I have to please them, they're sounding rather fretty—"
Perhaps you happened to see her when she stepped out on that vast stage, looking tinier than she really was, with the lights shining on her satin-smooth hair and white neck, with the coral comb and the carved bracelets making bright spots of color. Do you remember how her wide green skirts spread about her as she made her deep curtsy? Do you remember her smile? Or were you rustling your program until you heard that deep contralto voice of hers beginning with,
"What I am going to do for you I shall have to explain a little." There was a bald grouchy human in the front row, he honestly believed she was talking just to him! He leaned forward. "I am going to do some songs for you but I can't exactly sing—" The bald man grunted, he considered that plain foolishness and it was! "But I can play this lute a little—and I can whistle—"
"Louder!" called the voices at the rear.
She lifted her chin defiantly.