Evening star., 1911-08-13
CHAPTER XXXu.-Continued.

/ CaAPIER AAAu.-COnC1nueQ
| There were not nearly enough local
stage hands employed in the theater. and
acting was not the only work the actors
had to do. They helped place the scenery
and change the settings; they flew about
like distracted demons, half dressed, with
| suspenders flying. turning burglars den
into a millionaires drawing room; and
between the bewildering alterations OF
scene there was no rest for the sole of
any ones foot.
How they ever got themselves out OF
one costume into another in time. how
they ever remembered which of their
many doublings came first, which last,
Loveland could not conceive: but stand
ing in the wings waiting for his own
dreaded turn, he was filled with an IN
creasing respect for the transformers,
male and female. They could act. too,
most of them, which seemed to him the
strangest part OF all, for he had not eX-
pected to find the satellites of Bits little
! star twinkling with the light OF talent
| As for his own performance, he realized
before 1t had begun that such histrion1c
efforts as had won him applause when an
| amateur in London would not be good
enough to gain him admiration as pro-
fessional in Modunk. 1t was another
thing when, as a handsome young soldier.
Lord Loveland had staggered easily
about the stage, pleased with himself and
pleasing every one else. because every
one had come with the intention OF being
pleased.
Here, in remote little Modunk, the audi
ence was evidently far more critical, and
If it didn't like what it saw 1t said so
audibly with voice from the cheap
seats, or at least indulged in pro-
longed fit Of bored coughing. If Loveland
could have gone on ''as himself" as
Jacobus had said. he might have captured
the fancy of the girls. but as old Dave
| Dreadnought in a wild wig and moth
eaten beard lent by Pa Winter. the
new addition to the company could con-
quer the audience only by sheer force of
acting.
obliged to walk on to the stage In an
| swer to cue, or 1t seemed to him that
he could not have moved. 1t was bad
| enough to be discovered" in the act of.
being murdered: and as the moment came
when he would have to make his first
| speech his blood was beating like a
drum in his temples. His throat felt dry.
and when his cue to speak was given by
Jacobus with meaning emphasis he could
only swallow and glare. Not a word OF
the carefully rehearsed part could he re-
member, and involuntarily looking out In
front "a thing Ed Binney had warned him
not to do). 1t seemed as IL the rows of
| faces down below the yellow footlightS
were leaping up at him like a wave.
| If he had seen the mocking grins or
heard the filters which his morbid fears
and exaggerated sensitiveness led him to
expect he would have collapsed into
gasping helplessness, and died without
| giving the famous curse on which the
rest Of the play depended. But to his in
| tense almost agonizing relief. the eyes
staring I'D at him were eager, excited.
The people We're taking him in earnest!
They were not laughing at him. He had
power over them: and suddenly he felt
able to make use Of it.
Just as Jacobus bent over him. frantic
ally glaring, ready to prompt and swear
at the same time, Loveland's frozen hesi-
tation melted into words and gestures,
the right words, the right gestures.
| Jacobus sighed a great sigh OF thanks
| giving, and Val delivered his curse with
a transport of zeal He was half fright
ened at his own explosiveness. but the
audience enjoyed it, and when the cur
| tain went down upon his death there was
a round Of applause from the audience.
"They liked 1t all right" said Miss
| Moon.
Are they doing that for me?" Loveland
asked, incredulously.
/ why, of course she replied. You
| were the star OF the scene"
| 1T would have to be mighty rotten
| Dave not to get few hands on his
curse" said Jacobus. Never saw one
yet bad enough for that. It's the scene,
| not the actor, they clap"
But even this cold douche did not de-
press Loveland Though dead as Dave,
| it was his business to rise again in the
| third act as a young man of fashion-a
youthful butterfly from an ancient chrys-
| alis-and, drunk with the sweet draught
| of triumph, he. made the change gayly.
as happy for the moment as If he were
| playing before an audience of kings and
| queens.
He had dressed and was lurking In the
] wings again. watching with some interest
the arrest Of the leading man for his
Ooveland's) murder, on false evidence
VI
de Lisle fitted noiselessly up very in
| sufficiently disguised as boy.
| II suppose you do remember that you're
a young English lord?" she whispered
anxiousy.
/ Loveland started and stared. Had she
| found him out?
I'm your next scene." she explained.
/ Oh said Loveland. relieved. Am I
| era lord?" q
Yes Didn't Jacobus tell youo But
perhaps he thought it didn't matter
| cit doesn't seem to-" retorted Val. smil-
ing family at his own hidden meaning.
Duke Of Highgate. Pa Winters the duke.
you know. OF course. though. you haven't
seen the whole play yet-only your own
scenes, SO you can't keep track of every
| thing. You only have to walk on, or
rather waltz on with Miss Moon. you
know: and when she goes off and come
| on in girls clothes again you must say,
The next is mine. believe. with an
/ English QraWl But the part down on
| the program as Lord William Vane.''
by Jove, ] know Willy Vane. He's in
the Black Wa" began Loveland, but
he bit his lip and broke Off abruptly.
The Human Flower laughed. II don't
suppose your friends lord, thought
| Loveland did not reply. as the choice lay
| between a fib and an affirmative.
"You ought to know how lords behave.
| more than any of u.s. went on the girl,
| las. you're an Englishman. I suppose
| you We seen some?''
Eyes, a few" said Val, cautiously.
did you ever get a chance to speak to
one?"
Now and then"
"Were they very haughty?'
mot all Of them"
well, as you've seen them you'll know
| just how to act, and you look real swell.
| This is an exciting play. amt it? And
my! how it does makes us all work. This
| is my only quiet time and / guess you're
| tired. Perhaps you'd rather watch Jack
Jacobus big scene than talk to me? 1
| have to go on. anyhow, in about four
minutes"
I'D rather talk to you than watch, If |
you'n let me-" said VAL
well, as long as you don't make your |
self too interesting. so miss my cue! ].
J. will be cross II he sees us whispering
| here, but he's too taken up with himself |
and his wife in this scene to notice |
much.''
'"That's lucky, because I have a mes
sage for you from an old friend of yours, |
that I've been wanting to tell you all /
day." Loveland began. hastily. not TO |
waste one OF the four minutes. IT won- |
der il you remember him? Bill Willing?" |