There is a sudden awkward silence—a silence of a fraction of a second; and then we hear, offstage, a surge of congratulations. We hear Carter’s voice, the voices of women, Gene’s voice. The next instant Jack is in the door-way. He sees that the dressing room is empty. He turns, helplessly looking about. He knows it is no use—that his mother has gone. He stands for a second brushing the eyes of his blacked up face with his white glove.
And then Carter, Gene, half a dozen chorus girls, and Forbes break in upon him. They are enthusiastic, excited, congratulatory. Their remarks tumble one on top of the other in a confusion of sound:
“I take off my hat to you, Jack!”
“You certainly can put over a song!”
“Oh, Mr. Robin, it was wonderful!”
“It was grand, Mr. Robin—just grand!”
“You won’t need a press agent after tonight, old fellow!”
“It was just gorgeous—simply gorgeous!”
Lee plunges in and scatters them all, crying—“Get out for the next number!” ... and Lee and Jack are alone. Jack is standing, his back to Lee, his head bent.]