Brenda's Ward Part 16

"Thus far, every one we have asked has given us a different location. Do you know, Martine, this whole undertaking is a fool thing? Who but you would ever have thought of coming to Chelsea for amus.e.m.e.nt?"

"Thank you, Taps," responded Martine, sweetly, knowing that the old nickname would stir Lucian's anger even more. She did not dread Lucian's anger, for it never flamed very high, and while it lasted it was sometimes rather funny.

"You have good company," continued Martine, in a calm tone, ill-calculated to soothe an irritated brother. "Priscilla and I have to walk just as far as you, and you ought to appreciate our being with you."

Ungallant Lucian did not reply, and the laugh with which the girls received some remark of Robert's did not please him.

"It may seem funny to you to be wandering around the streets of Chelsea, but it would be more to the point, Martine, if you would gather your wits together, and remember the hall where this foolish entertainment is to hold forth."

At this moment by some subtle working of her mind light came to Martine, and the next moment she had whispered the forgotten name of the hall to Robert. Upon this Robert shot ahead of the others, and when Lucian caught up with him, he was standing in front of a corner drug-store.

"Come," he said, seizing Lucian's arm, "I'll show you where to go. We're ever so far out of our way. If you had left it all to me, we should have been there long ago."

Turning the corner beyond the drug-store, and walking a few steps along a street parallel to the one on which they had looked for the hall, the four young people were soon at the entrance of a large building, the lower story of which was occupied by a grocery shop.

In front of the shop was a group of half-grown boys.

"Got a ticket, Mister?" said one of them, holding the green pasteboard card to Lucian.

Lucian, who was really an amiable youth, had quickly recovered from his annoyance with Martine, and would not gratify Robert by showing vexation that the latter had been more successful in finding the hall. He suspected the truth--that Martine had helped Robert, and since they were now at the hall, what did it matter?

"Got a ticket, Mister?" A second boy held out his hand to Lucian.

"Of course, that's why we're here," replied Lucian. "Are you selling them?"

"No, we're giving them away. We want an aujence," was the astonishing response.

"What _does_ he mean?"

"We'll soon know, Martine," said Priscilla, following the two others up a long flight of dimly-lit stairs.

"Did you ever?" Martine gazed around the hall as they entered; "there are not ten people here."

"Just thirty." Priscilla was nothing if not accurate.

"But I thought Angelina said she had sold two hundred tickets, Martine."

"Expected to sell them, Lucian, though, to tell the truth, I thought she _had_ sold them."

"I'll wager she gave away half the seats that are occupied now. Those are Portuguese faces down in the front."

"I paid for mine."

"I know that, Martine. You always had a foolish habit of getting rid of your allowance almost as soon as you received it."

"That reminds me," asked Robert, "is this a charitable performance? It would have been more charitable to let us stay quietly in our rooms.

Just think what a fine four hours of study Lucian and I could have put in this evening."

"Yes, you are so apt to study Sat.u.r.day evening," interposed Martine; "but to answer your question, I can't say that this is wholly charitable. Part of it is for a girls' club over here--I mean part of the profits--and the rest--"

"Here's a poster," interrupted Lucian; "let's see what it says."

"It's easy enough to read. It must have been meant for bill-board decoration. Big black letters on green paper. Listen!" and after reading aloud place and date, Lucian continued:

MISS ANGELINA ROSA THE EMINENT MONOLOGUIST, WILL GIVE ONE OF HER CHOICE RECITALS FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE GIRLS' EXCELSIOR CLUB AND A HALF-ORPHAN

"A half-orphan!" shouted Robert. "What in the world--?"

"Why, she means herself, of course; her father is dead."

"Oh, I see!" and then, after the fashion of young people, the four began to giggle.

"Hush! the audience will be disturbed." Priscilla was the first to recover herself.

"What audience?" asked Martine, looking around the almost empty hall.

"It's fifteen minutes past eight." Lucian closed his watch with a snap.

"There's something happening. I wonder what it is. Two or three of those foreigners have gone behind the curtain."

At half-past eight Angelina had not appeared. Lucian proposed going home. Martine thought she ought to find Angelina to learn if anything serious had happened. Some of the boys in the front seats scuffled angrily. The hall was neither well heated, nor well lit. Every one was uncomfortable.

"I think that we really ought to go home," whispered Priscilla, half-timidly, to Lucian. But just at this moment the curtain was pushed aside, and Angelina appeared in the centre of the stage.

In her pink satin gown with its tawdry tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs at neck and sleeves, she looked "blacker and skinnier than ever," as Lucian put it. Just behind her walked a man who stumbled over her train, and then with a bow began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is most unfortunate that this lady and I may not be able to give our entertainment as advertised."

Hisses from the front soon interrupted the speaker.

"What has he to do with it?"

Lucian looked again at the poster where "Mr. Smithkins, accompanist"

appeared in small letters at the bottom.

Mr. Smithkins resumed his speech: "The fact is there's been some misunderstanding with the owner of this hall, who refuses to let us proceed until the rent has been paid in advance."

"Yes, every cent of it," and a stout woman with a red face and a bonnet trimmed with purple flowers pushed her way from behind. Angelina waved a large red fan nervously, but otherwise did not appear discomposed. She was at least the centre of the stage and although the audience was small, all eyes were certainly fixed on her.

The eloquence of the stout lady quite drowned the words of Mr.

Smithkins, making vain efforts to give his version of the situation. But after the hubbub had subsided, it was fairly clear to those present that Angelina had failed to pay the fifteen dollars she had promised in advance for the hall. Moreover, it was even clearer that Mrs. Stinton, the owner of the building, meant not only to stop the entertainment, but also to prevent Angelina's "skipping," without giving her her due.

"Will they arrest her?" asked Priscilla, anxiously.

"Oh, no, of course not; Angelina must pay the money."

"But you heard Mr. Smithkins say that she had been disappointed in the sale of tickets, and hadn't a cent even to pay him, and if he could afford to wait, Mrs. Stinton ought to be able to wait too."

"Give us a song or a pome," called a voice from the rear of the hall.

The boys, who had been lounging at the door, were now inside.