So on the appointed night Sheila played the part that Vickery wrote for her, and played it brilliantly. She stepped on the stage as from a bandbox and she flitted from scene to scene with the volatility of a humming-bird.
Eldon covered himself with glory and lent her every support. The kiln-dried company danced through the other rôles with vivacity and the freshness of débutancy. They had had the unusual privilege of a Monday afternoon off.
The big face of the audience that night glistened with joy and perspiration, and found the energy somewhere to demand a speech from the author and another from Sheila.
Vickery was in the seventh heaven. If there were an eighth it would belong to playwrights who see the chaos of their manuscripts changed into men and women applauded by a multitude. Vickery could not believe the first howl of laughter from the many-headed, one-mooded beast. The second long roll of delight rendered him to the clouds. He went up higher on the next, and when a meek little witticism of his was received with an earthquake of joy, followed by a salvo of applause, he hardly recognized the moon as he shot past it.
Later, there were moments of tautness and hush when the audience sat on the edge of its seats and held its breath with excitement. That was heroic bliss. But when from his coign of espionage in the back of a box he saw tears glistening on the eyes of pretty girls, and old women with handkerchiefs at their wet cheeks, and hard-faced business men sneaking their thumbs past their dripping lashes, the ecstasy was divine. When the tension was relaxed and the audience blew its great nose he thought he heard the music of the spheres.
The play was almost an hour too long, but the audience risked the last street-cars and stuck to its post till the delightful end. Then it lingered to applaud the curtain up three times. As the amiable mob squeezed out, Vickery wound his way among it, eavesdropping like a spy, and hearing nothing but good of his work and of its performers.
As soon as he could he worked his way free and darted back to the stage. There he found Sheila standing and crying her heart out with laughter, while Eldon held one hand and Reben the other.
Vickery thrust in between them, caught her hands away from theirs, and gathered her into his arms. And kissed her. Both were laughing and both were crying. It was a very salty kiss, but he found it wonderful.
CHAPTER XXIII
Were it not for hours like these, the hope of them or the memory of them, few people would continue to trudge the dolorous road of the playwright. Such hours come rarely and they do not linger unspoiled, but they are glimpses of heaven while they last. It was not for long that Vickery and Sheila were left seated upon the sunny side of Saturn with the rings of unearthly glory swirling round them.