The next performance was an “instrumental” one, which bade fair to be a great success. Four of the boys had learned to whistle “Home, Sweet Home” in parts, and were now about to ravish the audience with this time-honoured melody. They stood meekly side by side in a straight line facing the audience, waiting for the leader to begin, and screwing their mouths up into the proper shape. Just as the signal was given, and each had taken a long breath and was in the act of letting out, some lout in the audience laughed! The result may be imagined. The first note, which was to have been so beautiful, sounded just like the letting off of steam from four leaky safety-valves, and no effort could recover the melody. The more they tried the more they laughed. The more they laughed the more the audience roared. There they stood, with faces of mingled agony and mirth, frantically trying to get the sound out; but it never came, and they finally had to retire, leaving the audience to imagine what the effect of “Home, Sweet Home” might have been had they only got at it.
However, as the “dramatic” performance came next, the audience were comforted. The modest subject chosen was Hamlet.
Stephen, who was combining the duties of master of the ceremonies with those of president, rose and said to the company, “All turn round, and don’t look till I tell you.”
Of course every one pretended to turn round, and of course everybody looked as hard as he could. And they saw Bramble hop up on a chair and lower the gas, to represent night. And they saw Paul and Padger stick up two or three forms on end, to represent a castle. And they saw two other boys walk majestically on to the platform in ulsters and billycock hats, and their trousers turned up, and sticks in their hands to represent soldiers.
“Now you can turn round,” cried Stephen.
They did turn round, just at the very moment when Bramble, attempting to lower the gas still further, turned it right out. The effect was remarkable. No one and nothing was visible, but out of the black darkness came the following singular dialogue:—
“Who’s there?”
“Have you got a lucifer about you, any of you?”
“Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.”