“Late? I thought it was early. It is only a quarter past twelve.”
“I’ve been waiting for nearly two hours.”
“Waiting—what for?”
“Why, you arranged to fetch me a little after ten o’clock to go to the B’s.”
“God bless me—I forgot I had a dinner-party, forgot there was a soirée, and forgot I had a wife.”
“And where’s your white tie?” asked his wife stiffly.
“Oh dear, I must have forgotten that too! Dear, dear, what a man I am away from the stage and my dresser!”
There is a wonderful bonne camaraderie among all people engaged in the theatrical profession.
Theatrical people are as generous to one another in misfortune as the poor. In times of success they are apt to be jealous; but let a comrade fall on evil days, let him be forced to “rest” when he wants to work, and his old colleagues will try and procure him employment, and when work and health fail utterly, they get up a benefit for him. These benefits take much organising; they often entail endless rehearsals and some expense, and yet the profession is ever ready to come forward and help those in need.