But just as
I was wondering at this, I was recalled to business by delay on the
part of Bobby, who ought to have been on (with the lights down) as the
Twelfth Traveller.
I found him at the left wing, with all the twelve hats fitted one over
another, the whole pile resting on a chair.
"Bob, what are you after? You ought to be on."
"All right," said Bob, "Philip knows. He's lashing his tail and doing
some business till I'm ready. Help me to put this cushion under my
cloak for a hump-back, will you? I didn't like the twelfth hat, it's
too like the third one, so I'm going on as a Jew Pedlar. Give me that
box. Now!" And before I could speak a roar of applause had greeted
Bobby as he limped on in his twelve hats, crying, "Oh tear, oh tear!
dish ish the tarkest night I ever shaw."
But either we acted unusually well, or our audience was exceptionally
kind, for it applauded everything and everybody till the curtain fell.
* * * * *
"Behind the scenes" is always a place of confusion after amateur
theatricals; at least it used to be with us. We ran hither and
thither, lost our every-day shoes, washed the paint from our faces,
and mislaid any number of towels, and combs, and brushes, ate supper
by snatches, congratulated ourselves on a successful evening, and were
kissed all around by Granny, who came behind the scenes for the
purpose.
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