The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1900-09-06
A PAIR OF Ballet SHOES
A Story of the Stage.


Really I'm the dullest of men," said
Edgar Brooke, with the smile of long
suffering, to youthful interviewer
who was trying to pick up few more
crumbs of interest at the end of his
long talk with the most inimitable
comedian of the day. Edgar Brooke
glanced abstractedly round his study
and racked his brains for a suitable
anecdote, but he couldn't for the life of
him remember at the minute any of
the Anticipated theatrical stories that
every actor makes his own.
The youthful interviewer's eyes wan
dered curiously around and fell on
quaint little pair of shoes which were
hanging over the oak fireplace-not
dainty slippers, spangled and gay. but
just limp memento of the ballet, with
rounded toes, no heels and an old COW
erlng Of silk, worn and frayed. They
hung against the wall, with the little
toes turned In, as II their dancing days
were over and they were far too weary
ton.
"a curious souvenir. Mr. Brooke"
Edgar Brooke smiled. and there was
silence for minute.
The comedian had forgotten the
youthful interviewer. He seemed to
see the little shoes dancing on the wall.
His comfortable room faded out of
.i
ing fiddles and the fare of gas. Tween
ty years had slipped away In hardly as
many seconds.
1t was behind the scenes of country
theater. The close air Of little room
almost stified Edgar Brooke. He
dressed with the Pantaloon, two aero
bats and the Demon King of the pan
tomime.
Their clothes were heaped on a
basket In one corner. The Pantaloon
was making up" and the Demon King
was drinking whisky and soda and
reading scraps from The Sporting
Times to amuse the two acrobats.
Edgar Brooke, hungry eyed, lean and
haggard, sat with his aching head be-
tween his hands. His tinseled harle-
quin suit was loose for his wasted
body. Months of illness, hard luck
and poverty had taken the heart and
soul out of him.
He gave a sigh of thankfulness when
his noisy comrades were summoned
to the stage and he was alone.
Heard that Brooke has got the
sack?' said the Pantaloon.
Yes, poor devilr' answered the De-
mon King
Then there was the quick patter of
feet on the stairs. the door was pushed
q little open. and Columbine, In
gauze and a smile. peeped into Brooke's
dressing room. Although she was only
16, they had been solemnly engaged
for two months.
Eddy, darlihgr' she exclaimed, run
ming into the room and perching her
self On the Pantaloon's basket. The
young man looked up, too wretched to
hide the marks of tears on his face or
to try to control his unsteady lips.
tits all up, Kitty" he replied. 'I've
got my notice, dear. Run down stairs
you shouldn't come up. One day
they'll catch you"
my own love-" said the Columbine,
jumping off the basket and kneeling
down beside him, you don't know
yourself-pone of these fools know you.
You're worth more than the whole lott"
"Oh, Kitty. Kitty! | can't bear It"
Broken by weakness and despair. he
drew Kitty's slender arms around his
neck and, resting his head on her
shoulder. sobbed aloud.
"YOu must cheer up, Eddy she
whispered.
She persuaded him to stand up
hunted for his small mask and stiff
wand, shook herself together and gave
a touch to her own complexion before
the glass.
Edgar Brooke went down to the
stage with his hand on her shoulder.
The manager Of the company was
standing with his back to the curtain.
curry up therer' said he. Have
You got that side braced? My boy,
your shops wabbling. Lights! 'Ang
It all! Lights! Knock i'm off! Ring
upl Now. my dear
Up went the curtain and on went the
Columbine with a flying bound and a
beaming smile. Edgar Brooke leaned
against the wall for a second with his
clinched hand to his throbbing brow.
Then he, too, ran into the glare of the
stage