The Durham daily globe. (Durham, N.C.) 1889-1894, 1894-08-20
HER DEBUT.
They were having their coffee after a
ather elaborate dinner-Quavers and Oil

They were having their coffee after a
rather elaborate dinner-Quavers and Oil
yer.
! Quavers, the composer. was the fashion
His host, st. John Oliver, known to his
friends and acquaintance as Coaly, only
three and twenty, was the son and heir Of
the great coal mine proprietor, Matthew
Oliver.
well, Oliver, what do you want to get
out of me? Out with it. Come to the
point at once. Your dinner was a good
dinner"
''Oh, hang it, Quavers, you know
Don't beat about the bush, my boy.
Diplomacy is wasted on a chap like me.
You want something, of course. Ihopc you
haven't been writing a sentimental song
and are wanting me to set it,"
"Oh, it is not so bad as that, - replied
the young fellow, with a blush, though
it is a sentimental matter. 1t is about
some one I take an interest in. I want to
speak to you about Lalage Broughton."
"Oh, little Lally Broughton. What has
she done? Been making an ass of your
self and van your letters back, chr"
1T isn't exactly that, " replied young
Oliver.
'Quavers," cried the young man ex-
citedly, I want you to introduce me to
her. I-I-hang it, man, l worship the
very ground she walks on, and I've sent
bouquets and floral banjos, and l have sat
in the same seat all through the long run
of that new comic opera of yours, and ev-
cry night I've tossed q floral tribute Of
some sort at her feet. And every night,
Quavers, she has bowed and smiled at me
until last week, and then l was ass
enough to put a ring and note among the
4nu-or- or1 tho nnvf 6aU | O0t 'pJn hack
in a registered letter, and now she just
pushes my flowers aside with her foot"
You dear boy, you've evidently got it
very badly, and I'll oblige you, though it
isn't the sort of thing I'd do for every
body, but because you're not a bad sort OF
chap, and you mean honestly. You do
mean honestly, eh?"
The young fellow tOok Mr.. Quavers'
outstretchCd hand.
I'm sorry for yOu,'' said the composer
kindly. you'll have to wait a fortnight,
and then the run of The Little Siren
will be over, and the next day I'm going
for a little tour, and III introduce you to
LaIly Broughton in the morning. Is that
good enOugh?'
''Quavers, you're a brick!" cried the
young man excitedly. "If'-
"Oh, knOw-'if the devotion of a life
time, etc. I'll take a whisky and soda
instead, and then I'll spin you a little
yarn"
1t is just three years ago (began the
cOmpOscr) that l made little Lally BrOugh-
tons acquaintance under very peculiar
circumstances. My first comic opera had
been accepted; the inal rehearsal was on.
We began at 9. 80 a. m, and we were
not done not really done-till 10 that
night, and we went right through every
thing, and a precious anxious time it was,
I can tell you.
And everybody was down upon me, and
the stage manager was down upon every
body, and the ballet master had lost his
head. The chorus master was like araving
lunatic.
And the prima dOnna's understudy had
just sent in a medical certificatc-nOt that
l cared very much about that, for Miss
Dulcct, our sheet anchor, was in splendid
voice.
Just then a very curious incident hap
pened. A little, pale, blue eyed chorus girl
| suddenly fell down all in a heap at my
feet. Wacklcs and 1 picked her up and
popped her into a property chair. The
girl had tainted.
"What's the matter, my dear?" said
Wackles, kindly enough, when she came
to herself.
"Oh, Mr.. Wackles!' said the girl-for
she is but a grill didn't mean to, l
really didn't. Please don say anything
about it"
1T amt a time for fainting, Miss
Broughton,'' said Wackles, beating on his
chest in his low comedy manner. Look
at me. l don't faint. When a professional
lady wants to faint, she should faint out
| of business hOurS.'
please don't, Mr.. Wackles," said the
girl, with a little sob. And, oh, Mr..
Wacklcs," she added-and there was an
awful lOok about her eyes-''is that a real
loaf, sir" she said, gazing hungrily at
one of those long French loavcs of bread
which Mr.. Wacklcs was carrying over his
shoulder, rs though it had been a b~attleax.
of course its real, - said Wackles.
"Oh, please" said the girl, would you
give me q slice of it, sir? / haven't got a
penny in my pocket, and l haven't tasted
anything since s this morning. These
nine weeks rehearsal, sir, don't bring any
salary, and mother and l are very poor"
At that moment l was sent for from the
managers room. Sparklebury was there.
So was Mr.. Mephibosheth, who represent
ed the syndicate that was running our
piece.
Miss Dulcet has thrown up her part and
has left the thcater, Quavers, cried the
manager.
I'VE are just bust, said Sparklebury.
I rushed out. l ran across the stage.
'Wackles," l said hurriedly to the low
comedian, we are done! Dulcet has
chucked us, and there is no understudy. -
Please, sir, " cried little Lally BrOugh-
ton, clutching my arm, oh, please Mr..
Quavers, do give me a chance, sir. I'm
letter perfect in the music and words, and
l know all the business, and l feel
know l can pull you through"
Lally Broughton did the trick, sir. We
rehearsed the last act. She went through
the other three with the principals the
next morning, and in the evening we
sprang our new prima donna upon the
world of fashion.
That girl has made my fortune, Oliver.
I'm to be married to her this day fort
night, added Mr.. Quavers, with a smile
l think should like YOU TO be nv best