“There,” said Louise, “they’ll do now.”
“Billy and Adelaide wanted!” called Edith.
Adelaide, on account of a mournful expression that still appeared at times, had been selected for “Submit Tewksbury,” who had a broken heart and was good to one relative after another for thirty years or more. She had been told to look as sad as she possibly could, and she was posed with a medicine bottle and spoon, with which she had just—so Samantha explained—been nursing her relatives. Billy, behind her, looked very cheerful and debonair with his jaunty mustache and a very gaudy shirt which—so he said afterwards—he had bought especially for the occasion, for thirty-nine cents marked down from fifty. It had a large, spotty pattern on it, and it looked very festive.
The tableaux went smoothly on. Marie remembered all her lines, the audience appeared to enjoy it all very much, when suddenly in the midst of a speech she remembered something, and halted, secretly referring to the list of pictures which was pinned inside her palm-leaf fan. Widder Doodle, Submit Tewksbury, Elder Minkley, Maggie Snow—yes, they were four past Betsy Bobbet, the crowning glory of the evening, and no Betsy Bobbet had there been! Marie pulled herself together and thought a minute, talking on meanwhile.
“Brethren and sisteren,” she said, “I hope you’ll excuse me for a minute. My wind’s a gittin’ low, and my new congress gaiters pinch me some. I’m goin’ to ask you to wait a bit, till I fetch me a drink of water.”
The audience laughed, and clapped, as it had been doing most of the evening, and Samantha scuttled distractedly behind the scenes, where she clutched the nearest person to her. It happened to be Mrs. Bryan, who was making up one of the boys under a light.
“Where’s Betsy Bobbet—I mean Lilian Green?” she asked hurriedly. “It’s way past her turn, and she’s never been in at all.”
“Oh, my dear, didn’t anyone tell you?” said Mrs. Bryan.
“They couldn’t,” said Marie. “I’ve been out front all this time.”
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Mrs. Bryan. “Can’t you do without her? She slipped and tore her costume so badly that it wasn’t fit to appear in. She could pose, of course, but the tears would show.”