Through his dressing-room window Eliphalet Cardomay watched Henry Churchill, still scarlet with indignation, place Mary Kent in a cab and drive away.
“I have often remarked, Manning,” he said, “one gets very little thanks for doing things for people.”
CHAPTER V
GETTING THE BEST
Despite his remark at the conclusion of the foregoing chapter it was not Eliphalet Cardomay’s habit to look for thanks, and on the rare occasions when it was offered he usually murmured something quite incoherent and sought to escape. His real lode-star was to obtain a result, and no amount of personal inconvenience counted in this most vital of all obligations. To obtain the best result from the material at hand was practically his religion. Not as a rule given to boasting, yet he might frequently be heard to say:
“I can always be sure of getting the best from any member of my company, be it in or out of the theatre.”
It was a harmless enough little foible and saved many an inept actor or actress from reproaches. Eliphalet would argue that even though the quality of art with which they served him was indifferent, it represented the high-water mark of which they were capable, and so he forebore to criticise.
Like the martyrs of old, Eliphalet lived his ideals and was ready to uphold them by any sacrifice, as the succeeding episode goes to demonstrate.
No first-class provincial touring company need despise the Pier Pavilion at Brestwater-super-Mare. It boasts a stage of bold proportions, a capacious be-mirrored and luxuriously-upholstered auditorium and a façade that compels instant admiration. The design, a happy mixture of all the exhibition buildings which have ever sprung into existence, combined with a strong vein of Moorish architecture, is a triumph of skill and ingenuity.
Well, indeed, may the happy manager who has been fortunate enough to book a week there swell with pride as he passes the turnstile of the Pier, without the prepayment of twopence, and sees the majestic domes and spires of the Pavilion whitely silhouette themselves against the turquoise Channel waters. In such inspired surroundings, with the chuckle of sea beneath his feet, and the singing of the wind in his ears, who could choose but feel carefree and joyous, and give both-handedly of his artistic best?
But Eliphalet Cardomay, one of the mildest creatures God ever placed upon earth—a man of most even temper and lovable qualities—sensitive to an extreme of the influences of his environments—was in a dark and forbidding mood. The beauty of the day, the music of the water, the rococo architecture, were as nothing to him. With hands clasped behind his back, stickless and hatless, he strode the pier boards like a man possessed.