Brenda's Ward Part 17

Lucian and Robert rose from their seats.

"Excuse us for a moment," said the latter to Martine as the two made their way out into the aisle.

"Why, they're going behind the scenes," said Priscilla, in surprise.

Still more surprised was she when Lucian, raising the curtain, beckoned to Mrs. Stinton. The latter, impressed by the young man's appearance, went behind the curtain, and Mr. Smithkins, anxious to understand what was going on, followed her. Thus Angelina, to her own great satisfaction, was left in possession of the stage.

When Mr. Smithkins, a little later, appeared before the audience, he had the pleasure to announce, as he phrased it, that Mrs. Stinton's demands had been paid in full by a friend of the talented Miss Rosa, and that the performance would go on as advertised.

In promising this, however, Mr. Smithkins went a little too far. The cold hall, the low-necked gown, the long wait in which the young monologuist had heroically concealed her anxiety, all proved a great strain for Angelina.

Although she began bravely enough with what she considered the gem of the repertoire, the monologue was given quite tamely, and though she continued it to the end she was evidently glad to stop. It was at this point that Mr. Smithkins showed himself of especial service, as he seated himself at the cracked piano. There he pounded out a number of popular airs to the great delight of the audience, and received far greater applause than poor Angelina.

Nevertheless, when Angelina appeared for the second time, there fell at her feet a large bouquet of carnations, for which she bowed her acknowledgments several times.

It was all very pathetic as well as absurd. The dimly-lit, cold hall, the empty seats, the little figure bowing on the platform. Martine, always ready to see the amusing side of things, began to laugh. The rest of her party, even the considerate Priscilla, echoed the laugh. Then it spread to the front seats, and when Angelina was in the midst of her second selection, one in which she meant to move her audience to tears, all she could hear was one prolonged giggle. Poor Angelina! This laughter was the last straw. Still holding the flowers and the fan, she threw one angry glance toward the house, and then turning her back on friend and foe alike fled behind the curtain.

"There, Martine, you've done it. It was your giggling that set them off.

You ought to go behind and console her." Lucian seemed in earnest.

"It's half-past nine." Robert looked at his watch.

"Then we ought to start for home. We are so far away."

There was nervousness in Priscilla's tone.

Martine had made no effort to go to Angelina.

"How is the prima donna to get to town?" asked Lucian. "Are you going to look after her, Martine?"

"Oh, no, her brother John is here. He is that tall, good-looking youth, standing near the door. She can depend on him."

"Then we may start," continued Lucian, "even if the show isn't wholly over. We cannot wait for further instalments."

"We've had more than the value of our money," added Robert. "Mrs.

Stinton's performance alone was worth the price."

"Yes, girls, you should have heard her express her surprise and grat.i.tude when we gave her the fifteen dollars, and when we told her we were Harvard students, she could hardly believe it."

"But what did Angelina think?"

"Oh, we told her, Martine, that you had sent it, and that she must pay it back gradually. So you see that you, dear sister, will make the most out of this evening, as we'll let you keep whatever she pays back."

With Angelina's _fiasco_ to talk over, the four found the journey back to town much less tiresome than the "voyage," as Martine called it, to Chelsea. It seemed shorter, perhaps, because Robert discovered that they could return to Boston by a bridge instead of the ferry. When at last they left Priscilla at her door, it was not as late as it might have been if Angelina had carried out her full program.

CHAPTER XI

MARTINE'S ALTRUISM

In spite of her love of fun, Martine was considerate enough not to tease Angelina about her recital. Later, by degrees of her own accord, the little Portuguese told the story. After all, there was not much to tell.

She had depended on a few posters scattered at random to fill the hall.

She had thought that the girls of the Excelsior Club would sell many tickets. But she had fixed the price so high that the girls could neither afford to buy them, nor succeed in disposing of them to their friends.

Moreover, on the night of the recital, a Grand Army fair was holding an auction to which admission was free, and thither every one with a penny to spend had rushed, hoping for bargains. Even if Angelina had been a well-known elocutionist, she would have had difficulty in drawing people from the greater attraction.

"But I never thought," she said, "that some of the people who regularly bought tickets from me would never pay for them, just because they thought it was too much trouble to go when they found out how far away the hall was. My brother John bought and paid for tickets, and so did you, Miss Martine, and with the tickets I sold I just made out to pay Mr. Smithkins the ten dollars I'd promised him. But it was very embarra.s.sing about the hall--and if it hadn't been for your fifteen dollars, I don't know what I should have done."

Martine did not explain her brother's part in the matter.

"Of course, that Mrs. Stinton could have charged it as well as not. It wouldn't have been anything to her. They say she owns a whole block of houses down by the ferry. But it's my last of the Excelsior Club. I consider they went back on me."

"I hope you have learned a lesson, Angelina. You ought not to have promised to pay for the hall until you were sure of getting enough money out of a recital. You should have waited--"

"But I couldn't give a recital without a hall, and I should have paid if I'd sold more tickets."

"Well, this ought to be the last of your recitals."

"Didn't I do well?" asked Angelina, anxiously.

"Oh, that isn't the point."

Martine did not care at this moment to give her precise opinion of Angelina's dramatic ability.

"But you see, this must have cost you a great deal, and you ought to save your money--everybody ought, and life is more serious--there, Angelina--I'll leave it all to mamma. She'll advise you," concluded Martine, feeling that she was getting into deep water, in advocating principles that she herself had not always been able to live up to.

The experience of that memorable Sat.u.r.day, combined with the advice given by Mrs. Stratford, so far influenced Angelina that for the time she devoted herself exclusively to her household duties, ceased to take elocution lessons, and began to save money. At first she offered to pay Martine a dollar a week, but when the latter learned that Angelina had other debts, she urged her to consider them first.

"I can wait," she said, "and when you have finished paying for that pink satin dress--it would be a good idea for you to make your mother a present."

Nora Gostar, who always kept closely in touch with the Rosas at their home in s.h.i.+loh, had asked Martine to influence Angelina to do more for her family.

"Ever since the Four Club years ago began to help the Rosas, Angelina has taken it for granted that the public would look after them. It is true that on the whole they are now fairly prosperous. With her boarders and her garden Mrs. Rosa makes both ends meet, and John always has something to spare for his brothers and sisters. It is only Angelina who seems ready to escape all responsibility. You will remind her, won't you, Martine?"

"Yes," said Martine, "but some people say I haven't enough sense of responsibility myself."

"My dear, then no one has observed you lately. You certainly have taken hold splendidly of the girls in your painting cla.s.s. Two or three of them, you know, have been called 'hard cases.' No one else ever could interest them, and yet they seem perfectly devoted to you."

"Oh, they are so amusing," said Martine, "that I can't help throwing myself into the work, and then I find out what they want to do, and let them do it. It's silly to make people do things they dislike. Of course," she added, with some embarra.s.sment, "I am aware that this wouldn't be the right principle if I were a real artist, and were trying to make artists out of them. Some of them can't even draw, but they do take an interest in color, and so I am always hunting for good pictures in black and white--and their color effects sometimes are quite wonderful."

Martine did not explain that not a little of her own pocket money was spent for pictures suitable to her rather original method of conducting the cla.s.s. Photographs and lithographs cost money, and though Amy remonstrated that it was contrary to art to gild the lily, Martine replied that the end would justify her means.

Among her six little pupils only one showed marked talent. She was a Russian girl who had been in Boston but a year, and her gift took the form of a genius for making caricatures.

Her pencil was constantly in her hand, and even with her brush she could outline figures and scenes on the margins of her pictures that would send the others into fits of uproarious laughter.