Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1904-12-24


Miss Filter and Bunthorne were going
over their song. They went off with
hitch-kick, and / wish you could have
heard the Bear. He said that the chorus
didn't do such stunts and he wouldn't
stand for any kidding from any one. And
the little one that wrote the music-ard
he's going to make good-said it was
quite rocco
whats that about cocoa ?"
..0h, he thinks he can speak German.
We Just smiled. It's best to let people
think that you Think they can do things
if they think they can. My mother al
ways says-she wat with Lydia Thomp-
son, you know-that all men have to be
humored."
BY dint of untold thought and energy
and self-saerifice that would make the
deeds OF the early Christian martyrs pale
into insigniticance Miss De Belvedere of
the last row of the Peter Pumpkin"
chorus and of Williamsburg had managed
TO buy Christmas tree for the three
small and gaping birds that filled the nest
she called home. 1t wasn't a big tree for
more reasons than one. The De Belve-
dere front room was not spacious and
big Christmas trees cost almost as much
as Miss De Belvedere had earned since
the Green Eyed Fairies" company had
disbanded in Chicago in September. Miss
DE Belvedere loved the stage and was
firmly convinced that some day when she
had served a faithful apprenticeship Of
posing on papier mache logs and decorat,
ing woodland glades with green tulle in
her hair and electric stars on her brow
she would do something worth while and
have her name in the newspapers and
hen dinner at the Hyphen. In the mean
time she was the staff of life to two small
sisters and a schoolboy brother. and how
she did it no one could tell least of all
the little De Belvedere herself
The first performance of Peter Pump
kim was to be given on Christmas eve,
and there was no rehearsal that day for
the first time in five weeks. Miss De Bel
vedere busted herself dressing two of The
cheapest dolls to be found in the Brook
lyn shops in the gayest of tarlatan
skirts. They were supposed to represent
herself in the costumes-as the wardrobe
mistress called them by courtesy-in
Peter Pumpkin"
Size made some taffy, too-because she
was afraid the only kind she could afford
had bought strings of popcorn and gold
paper cornucopias, and glass balls. and
although she was reduced to almost her
last penny she felt proud of her pur-
ehases, and almost forgot to worry about
the evening performance in the absorbing
task of mending three little stockings so
that the presents wouldn't run out of the
toes.
Miss De Bclvedere was young herself.
If she hadn't been in three spectacular
productions, been bullyragged by stage
managers from Maine to St Louis, and
earned as much as SIS week (some-
times, she might have been called
child. As it was, she wasn't woman of
the world enough to leave her brood at
its bread and oatmeal supper and 90 over
to the theater She was Just child enough
to have longing to see that tree dressed
and lighted before she went She told
herself that it would save her time and
trouble when she returned worn out after
the show. So she coaXed and bribed the
two small girls to 90 to bed. She had
to take the schoolboy brother into her
confidence, but as he was s she decided
it was high time he assumed response
bilities. Together they set up the tree
IN the kitchen. They meant to move it
into the front room later. The glass
balls and gildcd nuts made a gay show
ing. The dolls looked like ballet girls.
The cornucopias were the gayest ever.
The boy was too dazzled to be of much
use. He stared and got in the way, and
when the candles were lighted-she
couldn't resist trying the effect-he
brushed against a bough, pushed tiny
taper against the flimsy frock of one of
the dolls and in legs time than it takes
to put an obstreperous Johnny" out of
the stage door the little tree was in as
pretty blaze as an electric bonfire.
The children were awakened from
dreams of Santa Claus and sugar plums
by having the bedclothes torn off them.
They followed the blankets, and stood
around and wept while the big sister beat
out the flames. Then they all cried to-
gether-Aliss De Bekedere most of all
When she left for the theater the
brother poked mournfully among the
ruins. Not a toy or bit of tinsel or eornu-
copia was left.
Are you all dead up there? Or deaf?
Don't you hear the curtain music? Get
a move on YOU, will you? This is no re-
ilCdtSdl. NlSdI INC stairway IUcle!
What's that bunch doing over there?
CRYING? That's good fine thing for
their makeup! What's that? Sick?
We'll. every one is sick ON first night
What Dead? Christmas tree burned.
you say? Come. no kidding behind the
scenrs!"
But the tragedy travelled. even as a
spring poem viii before it finds pub
lfstta hc
knew it, and Miss Butte and Miss Filter
III their respective dressing rooms heard
it, ant forgot to spoil each others lines
end push each other rs they went on and
came cf the stage. \ misty version OF il
percolated out through the alley to the
street, where in frozen fidelity the earnest
young angel held converse with his chauf-
feur and wished the stage manager in a
"a pliu,a AZ last ,oocbaJ