CHAPTER XV
"'MONGST THE HILLS OF SOMERSET, WISHT I WAS A-ROAMIN' YET!"
The house party in the Ark—especially because it was to be composed only of the household—seemed so desirable as the time for it grew nearer that the party to see the Midsummer Night's Dream paled before its beacon light.
Yet Robert Gaston gave his guests a blissful evening! Margery, Gretta, Happie and Mrs. Charleford sat in the first box, with Ralph and Robert himself for the black-coated background to their brightness. Edith, Laura, Bob and Snigs were in the second box under Mrs. Scollard's care. Of course there was no real division of the party.
"We just happen to have a fold in the middle, like a big birthday card," said Happie, laying her hand on the plush-covered railing of the next box as she leaned over to speak to Edith.
Margery settled into her chair, half hidden by the curtain, with a long breath of satisfaction. Gretta sat serenely in the middle, lost in admiration of the handsome theatre, the well-gowned women, the rustle of anticipation, secure in her sense of being unknown and of no consequence. She did not guess that many a glass was turned upon her face, with its brilliant tints of red and white skin, dark eyes, and heavy masses of dark hair. Margery and she were rare foils for each other, like a jasmine blossom and a Jacqueminot rose. No one could claim for Happie regular beauty, but she was alight with life, fun, eagerness to enjoy and to give pleasure. Her hair, always lawless, gleamed like tarnished copper, her eyes danced, her dimples came and went, her lips curved and quivered—she was like an incarnate electric current. Margery was lovely, Gretta was handsome, but Happie was charming, and on the whole that is the greatest gift of the three.
It did not take long for the audience around the boxes to discover and grow interested in the theatre party. It was not often that one could see so many winsome creatures together as Robert was entertaining that night, with a keen sense of the fact and no little pride in his guests.
Not Laura alone enjoyed the music of the Mendelssohn overture, but Laura did enjoy it, leaning far over the edge of the box, her pale face responsive to its spell. Then the curtain went up and the girls were admitted to fairyland, to the realm of visions, under the domain of sleep-like trance in which the actual world was no more a reality. Shakespeare's poetry, aided by the skill of to-day, wrought the spell. Electric fire-flies flitted through the forest, stung Bottom's sleepy poll, flew hither and yon at Puck's behest, while the owl in the hollow tree winked his electric eyes as the elf teased him. Fairies lifted their arms and then flitted across the stage and disappeared among the trees as Titania or Oberon commanded them; it was hard to believe they were mortals, so perfectly managed was the illusion of their flight. Happie put a hand over one of Margery's and one of Gretta's, giving herself up to the fun of the grotesque players of Pyramus and Thisbe, yielding her imagination to the forest elves, perfectly happy and unconscious of real life, as Happie always could be when she read or saw or heard. Not till the curtain fell on the last act in the palace of the duke, with the fairies flitting through the gathering darkness shedding wedding blessings on the reunited lovers to the softly sung music of Oberon, did Happie stir, sighing. The lights blazed up in the body of the theatre, on every side there was a rustle of preparation for the street. The illusion was over, and Broadway, with its roar of trolley and its stream of varied types of life, waited to swallow up the mortals who for three hours had been transported to the kingdom of dreams.
Robert Gaston had taken Mrs. Scollard for a walk in the lobby between two of the acts. As she put on her hat Happie fancied there was between them an air of understanding. Her mother seemed stirred, while Robert looked blissful. He helped Margery into her coat carefully, and laughingly disentangled Gretta's heavy braid of hair from Happie's obtruding hook.