Eldon foresaw himself throwing Sheila and Mrs. Vining out of their stride by standing up-stage when he should stand down, or right when he should stand left. He knew there was an etiquette about “giving the stage” to the superior characters. He remembered one rather heated argument in which Batterson had insinuated that old Mrs. Vining had been craftily “stealing the stage” from one young woman who was selfish enough in all conscience, but who had foolishly imagined that the closer she was to the audience the more she commanded it.
Eldon was disgusted with his ability to forget what he had watched incessantly. He was to make his entrance from the left, yet, as he recollected it, Crumb had stood to the right of Sheila as he held the lantern over the map. Now he wondered how he was to get round her. This bit of stage mechanism had always impressed him. He had seen endless time spent by the stage-manager in trying to devise a natural and inconspicuous method for attaining the simple end of moving an actor from one side of a table to the other side. At first he would have said, bluntly, “The way to go round a table is to go round it.” But he had finally realized that the audience must always be taken into account while seeming always to be ignored.
The more he pondered his brief rôle the more intricate it grew. It began to take on the importance of Hamlet. He repeated it over and over until he fell into a panic of aphasia.
Suddenly he heard the third act called and ran down the steps to secure his lantern. It was not to be found. The property-man was not to be found. When both were discovered, the lighting of the lantern proved too intricate for Eldon’s bethumbed fingers. The disgusted property-man performed it for him. He took his place in the wings.
Agues and fevers made a hippodrome of his frame. He saw his time approaching. He saw Sheila unfolding the road-map, scanning it closely. She was going to see the farmer approaching with a lantern. She was going to call to him to lend her the light of it. Now she saw him. She called to him. But he must not start yet, for he was supposed to be at a distance. She called again. She spoke to her aunt.
Now is the time! No, not yet! Now! Not yet!
“Why, here you are!” said Sheila.
But he was not there. He was a cigar Indian riveted to the floor. She beckoned to him, and summoned him in a stage whisper, but he did not move. Batterson dashed from his position near the curtain and shoved him forward, with a husky comment, “Go on, you—”
Eldon never knew what Batterson called him, but he was sure that he deserved it. He started like a man who has fallen out of bed. He tripped, dropped to one knee, recovered himself with the lurch of a stumbling horse, and plunged into the scene.
The quick and easy way to extinguish a lantern is to lower it quickly and lift it with a snap. That is what Eldon did. He found himself in the presence of two actresses on a little strip of dark beach with the audience massed threateningly before it like a tremendous phosphorescent billow curved inward for the crash. The billow shook a little as Eldon stumbled; a few titters ran through it in a whispering froth.