“Bertie! Be a dear, and put this in Mr. Leahurst’s car will you? And ask some one to let me know as soon as he’s ready.”
Both Mildred and Alwyn had been as much amazed as rejoiced on observing Emmie’s success with Mr. Leahurst. When the rehearsal was over, each of them in turn thanked her and congratulated her; and Emmie, pleased with herself without being vainglorious, told Alwyn how she had plainly said that Miss Millbank was no good.
“Splendid!” cried Alwyn.
“And I told him, too, that the other girl, Miss Yates, was no good either.”
Alwyn nearly fainted.
“Oh, ye gods! Never mind. It can’t be helped. Come along. Let’s get some food.”
Soon now people in this theatre and other theatres were asking a question. What was the matter with Mr. Leahurst? Unheard of things were happening. He regularly attended rehearsals, and telephoned for news when he was prevented from attending. He was showing the most active interest in what was, after all, merely a stop-gap or fill-in show.
He used to occupy the same stall, smoking, and talking to Miss Verinder. He told her that it rested him to sit like this and not be bothered for an hour or so. He said, too, in this connection, that she herself was “reposeful.”
“Have you ever been told that? I s’pose you have, often.”
At Emmie’s suggestion he got the author to sit with them and explain the drift of the play.