San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-12-08
ghe Daily Eight.
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1891. -; 20

nigan, the renowned society amateur
actress, would appear in 'Sewanaka, thu
White Squaw," on Saturday night, Aug.
IS, supported by Mr.. Eugene WyncooI
and q select coterie of society leaders"
Rehearsals were called for twice a
49, - o7GS-crcntly 30 much was
SxSs GzgEoe2sd with hsT part that her
SepsEiw ssS cSsrcsly anything Of her,
and poor McGivern nothing at all He
used to hang about the house and make
love i'll mild sort of way to Tilda's Sec
ond sister Bridge, who had not been in
vited to take part in the play.
He had consented to appear as one of
the white squaw's Indian warriors, more
for the pleasure Of being near her than
from any desire to appear in public, but
as this was essentially thinking role,
he was left with good deal of time on
his hands, and Mrs. Quinn, seeing how
disconsolate he looked. finally took COM
passion upon the poor fellow.
She dragged him off for long walk
and by the time she brought him home
again his features were one broad grin.
Mrs Quinn and Baby Brannigan were
also much together in those days
By Miss Cadogan's express stipulation
baby was not to witness his sisters de-
but Miss Cadogan did not approve Of
theatrical performances in any shape or
form. and as Baby was the prospective
heir. it was thought best to regulate his
conduct accordingly.
On the morning Of the day of the per-
Torrance Mrs. Quinn did a most ex-
traordinary thing. She volunteered to
water the garden of her own accord.
Just in front of the barn, to which Mrs.
Brannigan so strenuously objected,
there WAS quite little pile Of hay. Mrs.
Quinn was observed to examine it very
carefully and then to gauge with her
eye the distance from the hayloft down
TO the ground. Then she turned the
hose on the hay until it was thoroughly
soaked. and betook herself to the house
again. There were piles of hay in the
rear of the barn and also on each side.
Mrs. Quinn didn't bother about soaking
them, however: the pile before tie hay
loft absorbed her entire attention.
That night, when Tilda was all ready
to start for the theater, Mrs. Quinn and
S.sS Csdasso wished her every joy.
"Wsll, hope you'll be thumpfn sue
ia Stlaa," remarked Mrs Quinn.
me and May shall be thinkin of you,
though we shan't be there. I'd go in a
minute if it wasn't for me toothache,
and anyhow. even if it did let up, |
couldn't go now, for I've promised to
take Baby up in the hayloft and let him
play in the hay. Tell Barney, if you see
him, to come up for supper. What wild
these rehearsals and the fire engine prac-
tees, | amt laid eyes on him in tree
days"
Then turning to Baby, she exclaimed:
Now. come along, darlint. let's go up
in the hayloft"
When the curtain rose on the first act
Of "Sewanaka," standing room was at a
premium.
The stage was set as prairie, with an
Indian encampment in the foreground.
The twenty-one members of the Clam
vile fire department, metamorphosed for
the time being into the Indian followers
Of the white squaw, lay about the stage
in various attitudes OF languor.
One by one the warriors grew drowSy
and sank to rest. The moon arose above
the prairie grass. and while the orches-
ira played slow music there entered
Sgn 3. z. 2G2G3 TElas Brannigan, the
SsssSg0 SgBsw.
ESa GsGl5 kagS kaSrd a pin drop any
where in the theater as the White
Squaw, daintily picking her way among
the sleeping men. advanced to the foot
lights on tiptOe. Everybody leaned for
ward to catch the first syllable which
should fall from her silvery lips There
was an instant's pause and then she
spoke
"See!" she exclaimed in a staccato
whisper, 1.-The dusky warriors sleep"
Hardly had the sentence left her lips
when the fire bell began to ring.
Every dusky warrior sprang to his
feet tumultOusly and tore headlong off
the stage. In an instant they had cleared
the stairs, and, in full war paint and
feathers, were rushing down the street
toward the engine house, heller SHELTER
The White Squaw. left alone in her
glory, beat an ignominious retreat be-
hind the scenes, where she threw her
self upon a campstool and at once began
TO cry.
Eugene Wyncoop, the only man who
had stood by his chieftain, then ad-
J&aced to the foothghts and began to
;'sgssaIasr forth an apology. which wasn't
ssS2 necessary, as half the audience had
left the hall and the other half were get
ting out with the utmost alacrity.