“Selia says she wouldn’t mind betting old Idris has put poison in her girl friend’s gloves like the Borgias,” said Dr. Templett, and added: “Good Lord, I oughtn’t to have repeated that! It’s the sort of thing that’s quoted against you in a place like this.”
“I won’t repeat it,” said Dinah.
She asked Miss Prentice if she would rather not appear at the piano.
“How thoughtful of you, Dinah, my dear,” rejoined Miss Prentice, with her holiest smile. “But I shall do my little best. You may depend upon me.”
“But, Miss Prentice, your finger!”
“Ever so much better,” said Eleanor in a voice that somehow suggested that there was something slightly improper in mentioning her finger.
“They are waiting to print the programmes. Your name — ”
“Please don’t worry, dear. My name may appear in safety. Shall we just not say any more about it, but consider it settled?”
“Very well,” said Dinah uneasily. “It’s very heroic of you.”
“Silly child!” said Eleanor playfully.
iii
And now, on Thursday, November the 25th, two nights before the performance, Dinah stood beside the paraffin heater in the aisle of the parish hall, and with dismay in her heart prepared to watch the opening scenes in which she herself did not appear. There was to be no music at the dress rehearsal.
“Just to give my silly old finger time to get quite well,” said Miss Prentice.
But Henry had told Dinah that both he and his father had seen Eleanor turn so white after knocking her finger against a chair that they thought she was going to faint.
“You won’t stop her,” said Henry. “If she has to play the bass with her feet, she’ll do it.”
Dinah gloomily agreed.
She had made them up for the dress rehearsal and had attempted to create a professional atmosphere in a building that reeked of parochial endeavour. Even now her father’s unmistakably clerical voice could be heard beyond the green serge curtain, crying obediently:
“Beginners, please.”
In front of Dinah, six privileged Friendly Young Girls, who were to sell programmes and act as ushers at the performance, sat in a giggling row to watch the dress rehearsal. Dr. Templett and Henry were their chief interest. Dr. Templett was aware of this and repeatedly looked round the curtain. He had insisted on making himself up, and looked as if he had pressed his face against a gridiron and then garnished his chin with the hearth-brush. Just as Dinah was about to ring up the curtain, his head again bobbed round the comer.
“Vy do you, ’ow you say, gargle so mooch?” he asked the helpers. A renewed paroxysm broke out.
“Dr. Templett!” shouted Dinah. “Clear stage, please.”
“Ten thousand pardons, Mademoiselle,” said Dr. Templett. “I vaneesh.” He made a comic face and disappeared.
“All ready behind, Daddy?” shouted Dinah.
“I think so,” said the rector’s voice doubtfully.
“Positions, everybody. House lights, please.” Dinah was obliged to execute this last order herself, as the house lights switch was in the auditorium. She turned it off and the six onlookers yelped maddeningly.
“Ssh, please! Curtain!”
“Just a minute,” said the rector dimly.
The curtain rose in a series of uneven jerks, and the squire, who should have been at the telephone, was discovered gesticulating violently to someone in the wings. He started, glared into the house, and finally took up his position.
“Where’s that telephone bell?” demanded Dinah.
“Oh, dear!” said the rector’s voice dismally. He could be heard scuffling about in the prompt-corner and presently an unmistakable bicycle bell pealed. But Jocelyn had already lifted the receiver and, although the bell, which was supposed to summon him to the telephone, continued to ring off-stage, he embarked firmly on his opening lines:
“Hallo! Hallo! Well, who is it?”
The dress rehearsal had begun.
Actors say that a good dress rehearsal means a bad performance. Dinah hoped desperately that the reverse would prove true. Everything seemed to go wrong. She suspected that there were terrific rows in the dressing-rooms, but as she herself had no change to make, she stayed in front whenever she was not actually on the stage. Before the entrance of the two ladies in the second act, Henry came down and joined her.
“Frightful, isn’t it?” he asked.
“It’s the end,” said Dinah.
“My poor darling, it’s pretty bad luck for you. Perhaps it’ll pull through to-morrow.”
“I don’t see how — Dr. Templett!” roared Dinah. “What are you doing? You ought to be up by the fireplace. Go back, please.”
Miss Prentice suddenly walked straight across the stage, in front of Jocelyn, Selia Ross and Dr. Templett, and out at the opposite door.
“Miss Prentice!”
But she had gone, and could be heard in angry conversation with Georgie Biggins, the call-boy, and Miss Campanula.
“You’re a very naughty little boy, and I shall ask the rector to forbid you to attend the performance.”
“You deserve a sound whipping,” said Miss Campanula’s voice. “And if I had my way — ”
The squire and Dr. Templett stopped short and stared into the wings.
“What is it?” Dinah demanded.
Georgie Biggins was thrust on the stage. He had painted his nose carmine, and Miss Prentice’s hat for the third act was on his head. He had a water pistol in his hand. The girls in the front row screamed delightedly.
“Georgie,” said Dinah with more than a suspicion of tears in her voice, “take that hat off and go home.”
“I never — ” began Georgie.
“Do what I tell you.”
“Yaas, Miss.”
Miss Prentice’s arm shot through the door. The hat was removed. Dr. Templett took Georgie Biggins by the slack of his pants and dropped him over the footlights.
“Gatcha!” said Georgie and bolted to the back of the hall.
“Go on, please,” said poor Dinah.
Somehow or another they got through. Dinah took them back over the scenes that had been outstandingly bad. This annoyed and bored them all very much, but she was adamant.
“It’ll be all right on the night,” said Dr. Templett.
“Saturday’s the night,” said Dinah, “and it won’t.”
At midnight she sat down in the third bench and said she supposed they had better stop. They all assembled in one of the Sunday School rooms behind the stage and gathered round a heater, while Mrs. Ross gave them a very good supper. She had insisted on making this gesture and had provided beer, whisky, coffee and sandwiches. Miss Campanula and Miss Prentice had both offered to make themselves responsible for this supper, and were furious that Mrs. Ross had got in first.
Dinah was astounded to learn from their conversation that they thought they had done quite well. The squire was delighted with himself; Dr. Templett still retained his character as a Frenchman; and Selia Ross said repeatedly that she thought both of them had been marvellous. The other two ladies spoke only to Mr. Copeland, and each waited until she could speak alone. Dinah saw that her father was bewildered and troubled.
“Oh, Lord!” thought Dinah. “What’s brewing now?” She wished that her father was a stronger character, that he would bully or frighten those two venomous women into holding their tongues. And suddenly, with a cold pang, she thought: “If he should lose his head and marry one of them!”
Henry brought her a cup of black coffee.
“I’ve put some whisky in it,” he said. “You’re as pale as a star, and you look frightened. What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired.”
Henry bent his dark head and whispered: