'As Gold in the Furnace' Part 8

"That's right, too. But knowing what we now know, we can make things much pleasanter for Roy than they have been so far this year."

"Yes; if only for that I am glad we were involuntary eavesdroppers."

CHAPTER VIII

SOMETHING HAPPENS

The charitable boys returned from the Little Sisters early in the afternoon, aglow with the warmth of their own good deeds, in time to take a rest and an early supper, and put themselves in good condition for the play that evening. It was the Seniors' night, and they were to present "Richelieu" for the first time at St. Cuthbert's in years. The last performance of that great play, ten years ago, had been a brilliant success. The present generation of student actors were nervously anxious to equal, and, if such a thing were possible, to excel the reputation of the bygone players.

To make the situation more critical, several of the old boys who had taken part in the play at its former presentation had been invited to witness its reproduction. Six or seven, stirred by the memories of old times, had accepted the invitation. They were the welcome guests of the college for Christmas week. It can, then, be well understood that this play was to be the great event of the holidays.

The afternoon pa.s.sed quickly and already the college theater was lighted. Already the boys had more or less noisily scrambled to secure the best positions. Suddenly the footlights shot up, sending a thrill of expectancy through the audience. Amid a rather unmeaning applause, for as yet it was certainly unearned, the orchestra took their places.

Before the curtain, much expectancy; behind it a much larger amount of suppressed excitement. Some of the actors were busy scanning over their lines for the last time, and with regretful haste, sorry now that they had not taken more to heart the advice of the trainer and committed them to memory better. Others were thronging around the busy make-up man, getting into his way, and--as always happens--upsetting the spirit-gum used to fasten on artificial mustaches and beards.

Roy Henning, in the scarlet robe and white fur tippet of _Richelieu_, nervously tugged at a blue silk ribbon which was around his neck, and patiently waited his turn for his make-up.

Shealey was _De Mauprat_ and looked well in a black velvet suit.

Ambrose Bracebridge had a decidedly comical appearance in a Capuchin's brown habit and cord, with fleshlings and sandals, as the monk, _Joseph_. Ernest Winters, who this year had been promoted to the large yard, was to impersonate _Richelieu's_ page, _Francois_, and certainly his brother Claude would have been proud of him could he have seen at this moment how fine he looked in his handsome doublet and trunks.

The play had been slightly modified to allow of its presentation by college students. The _Julie de Mortemar_ had been for this occasion metamorphosed in _Julius de Mortemar_, and was consequently nephew instead of niece of the great cardinal. The adaptation of the lines had been cleverly done, so the transposition of this character did not greatly injure the play.

Behind the curtain the actors could hear faintly the squeakings and tunings of the orchestra violins. Presently the first overture began, and the actors knew their time had come. The manager, with a commendable horror of delays and stage waits, and knowing that anything of that kind would ruin the very best production, had everything arranged for the opening scene when the music ceased.

The manager's little bell rings once, twice, and up rises the curtain on the drinking scene in _Marion de Lorme's_ house. The great play of the year had begun. Is it not strange that so many really good plays open with a drinking or carousing scene? At best, there is nothing elevating in them, and it takes the finest kind of professionalism to make them even tolerable. The St. Cuthbert's college boys were not professionals. The consequence was that the first scene went but slowly.

It was not until Henning, magnificently costumed as _Richelieu_, entered, in the second scene, that any of the players appeared at their ease. The round of applause which greeted his entrance with _Joseph_ seemed to steady the actors and give them confidence.

There now occurred a strange thing during this scene, which led to much talk and fruitless speculation for many subsequent days. Henning made a good entrance. He began his lines in a rich baritone:

_Richelieu_--"And so you think this new conspiracy The craftiest trap yet laid for the old fox?-- Fox!--Well, I like the nickname! What did Plutarch Say of the Greek Lysander?"

_Joseph_--"I forget."

_Richelieu_--"That where the lion's skin fell short he eked it Out with the fox's. A great statesman, Joseph, That same Lysander."

Just as Henning had finished the rendering of the sentence, "That where the lion's skin fell short he eked it out with the fox's," there was heard from the far right-hand corner of the hall a loud, distinct sound--one word. Clear and resonant, every one in the hall and the actors on the stage heard it distinctly. As nearly as letters will represent the sound it was "UGH!" The intonation of the one syllable was such as to convey without doubt to the hearers that the perpetrator regarded the words of the cardinal as practically applicable to the actor himself.

Many heads were momentarily turned in the direction whence the sound had come. Henning himself gave a rapid glance to the corner of the hall. As he did so, he saw his cousin Garrett drop his head and look fixedly at the floor.

Boys at a Christmas play do not usually fix their gaze on the floor.

Henning felt that, for some reason or other, his cousin had made the interruption. For what purpose? Roy could not imagine. That it was Garrett there was no shadow of a doubt, for the actor plainly recognized the blue sweater his cousin wore constantly. Perhaps after all this time, thought Roy, his cousin was now trying to "get even"

with him, as he had promised, for refusing to accompany Garrett to that carpet dance during the summer. Roy loyally put this thought out of his mind, but in doing this he was more mystified than ever, as it left him without a motive which could explain the curious action.

Fortunately for the success of the play the intended interruption, and probably intended insult, did not sufficiently distract Henning to the extent of spoiling the scene. There was a pause but for a moment. "A great statesman, Joseph, that same Lysander," he repeated, and thus recovering himself, the play went on without further interruption to a most successful finish.

The next day the attempted spoiling of the scene was the general subject of conversation. Many boys were uncertain who made the attempt. Henning did not refer to the matter when Garrett approached him. He accepted the many congratulations without evidence of either pleasure or displeasure, merely politely bowing. He appeared indifferent to praise or blame from his cousin. When, however, among his own special coterie of friends he was by no means pa.s.sive.

After breakfast the Philosophers met in their own cla.s.sroom, which, as we have before stated, was a sort of clubroom for them. Everybody crowded around Roy. Some shook his hand vigorously, others patted him patronizingly on the shoulders, a.s.suring him that he was "the stuff"

without deigning to explain their use of that word; others, in their enthusiasm, thumped him on the back, and Ernest Winters, who because he had taken part in the play, had been allowed to come up to the cla.s.sroom, presented him, amid the profoundest salaams, with a bouquet of paper flowers surrounded by cabbage leaves which he had purloined from the kitchen.

"Ye done rale good, an' this is fer yees," said the young rascal.

"He did that," said Jack Beecham, and turning to Roy he continued: "If I knew who it was who tried to rattle you, I would----"

"What?" asked Roy.

"I would--would punch his head!" replied Jack, and manner, look, and gesture showed how pugilistic were his inclinations at that moment.

"Who was it, Roy?" he continued, "I wasn't on the stage just at that time, you know."

"I do not know," replied Henning slowly.

"Mental reservation," said Bracebridge laughing.

"I do not know," repeated Roy, and his friends could get no more out of him.

"By the way," said George McLeod, "are you going to finish taking the subscriptions for the pitcher's cage to-day, Roy?"

"Yes," answered Roy. "The boys seem to have plenty of money now, and we want only about twenty-six dollars more."

"That's splendid," said George, "we must have that cage ready by the time cla.s.ses begin again after the Christmas holidays."

"That reminds me," said Henning, aside to Ambrose Bracebridge, "that I forgot to take that money out of the table-drawer and place it with the treasurer. I intended to do it every day for several days past, but every time I put more money in I forget all about it."

A shade of vexation pa.s.sed over Bracebridge's bright features. He said:

"I am sorry you forgot. It would be much safer with the treasurer of the college. But I suppose it's all right, anyway."

"I have seven dollars in my pocket now belonging to the fund. Let us go over to the playroom, boys, and I will unlock the drawer and take the money to the treasurer for safe-keeping."

The group of boys left the cla.s.sroom and went diagonally across the yard to the playroom, which was situated under a large study-hall, and was a half-bas.e.m.e.nt room.

There were about two dozen boys in the playroom when our friends entered it. As Roy pa.s.sed up the long room, first one and then another complimented the _Richelieu_ of the previous evening on his fine acting. Roy's cheeks flushed with pleasure. There was some of that semiconscious gentleness of perfect success about him. He was experiencing some of the pleasantest moments he had ever spent at St.

Cuthbert's.

Jack Beecham took the key from Roy and unlocked the door of the sports-committee room. The group that had recently left the cla.s.sroom entered, those in the playroom paying little attention to them. Boys were accustomed to see various groups enter the small room for the purpose of discussing various sporting events and conditions of the college games.

"How much have you collected, Roy?" asked Tom Shealey.

"About seventy-two dollars--seventy-nine with this in my pocket. Wait; we'll see in a minute."

He felt in his pocket for a small bunch of keys, but could not find them.