The Tupelo journal., 1917-10-05


Lally Broughton's acquaintance under
very peculiar circumstances. My first
comic opera had been accepted, and
the final rehearsal was on. 1t was, to
certain extent. dress rehearsal, and
most of the people had got their
clothes. but some of the shoes weren't
ready; and there wasn't soul In the
house except dozen artists from the
illustrated papers, who were making
sketches from the stalls. But the
whole strength of the company was on
the stage; the musicians were in their
places. We began at nine-thirty a. M,
and we We're not done-not really done
till ten that night; and we went
right through everything, and pre-
cious anxious time it was l can tell
you. And everybody was down upon
me, and the stage manager. was down
upon everybody; and the ballet mas
ter had lost his head, and the chorus
master was like a raving maniac; and
had tumbled over the train of Miss
Dulcet, the popular favorite, our prima
donna, and she had used language to
me that she must certainly have learn
ed in Italy when she was completing
that expensive education of hers; and
we were all tired and hungry and
pretty utterly done up. Mr.. Wackles,
the low comedian, who was playing
the part of an innkeeper, had just
got through that first song of his about
the Staff of Life. He put in lot of
words of his own which he considered
funny, but which the author didn't;
and he and Sparklebury the author,
We're shaking their fists in each others
faces. And the prima donna's under.
study had just sent in medical GER
tificate-not that / cared very much
about that, for Miss Dulcet, our sheet
anchor, was in splendid voice. Just then
very curious incident happened. A
little, pale, blue-eyed girl suddenly fell
down all in heap at my feet. Wack-
les and / picked her up and popped
her into property chair; the girl had
tainted
"'What's the matter my dearT said
Wackles kindly enough, when she came
to herself
sob, Mr.. Wacklesr said the girl
for she is but girl didn't mean
to, 1 really didn't; please don't say
anything about it.
at ,ain't time for fainting, Miss
Broughton,' said Wackles, beating on
his chest in his best low-comedian man.
ner; look at mel don't faint. When
professional lady wants to faint, she
should faint out of business hours or,
If she feels she must, she should 60 to
the canteen and get corpse-reviver.
Can offer you anything, Miss Brough-
tom? he said, with low bow.
Please don't, Mr.. Wackles,' said
the girl with little sob. And, oh,
Mr.. Wackles,' she added-and there
was an awful look about her eyes-fs
that real loaf, sirY she said, gazing
hungrily at the. staff of life, one of
those long French loaves of bread,
which Mr.. Wackles was carrying over
his shoulder as though it had been a
battle-ax.
n ".Of course it's real,'' cried Wackles.
= "tOh, please said the girl, would
you give me slice of 1t, sir. haven't
gotta penny in my pocket, and / haven't
tasted anything since eight this MORN
ing. These nine weeks rehearsals, sir,
don't bring any salary, and mother and
/ are very poor
"'Good Lord' cried Wackles. Then
he cut her off a great slice, and, in or
der to keep her in countenance, he cut
off another for himself and began to
eat it with great apparent gusto.
cat that moment'I was sent for into
the managerssroom. Sparklebury was
there; so was Mr.. Mephibosheth, who
represented the syndicate that was
running our piece.
"'Niss Dulcet has thrown up
her part and has left the theater, Qua
vers.' cried the manager.
eve are just bust said Sparkle
bury.
II felt that was a ruined man.
Il rushed out. / ran across the
stage. 'Wackles.' said hurriedly to
the low comedian, we. are done! Dull
Get has fchucked us, and there is no
understudy.'
Zerubbabelr shouted Mr.. Wack-
les.
PLEASE, SIR cried little Lally
Broughton. clutching my arm-'oh
please, Mr.. Quavers, do give me a
chance, sir. I'm letter-perfect in the