The Cricket Part 17

"It just about did break my neck, you big nut!" he cried, feeling himself, gently. "I told you that darned thing wouldn't work."

"Draw the curtain," hissed Isabelle fiercely, sensing that the shouts of the audience were too abandoned to be complimentary.

The curtains were hitched shut, and she looked over the bal.u.s.trade on to the group below. Wally was beating Christiansen on the back, and Max was laughing hysterically. Mrs. Page, whose stupid maternal plans had nearly ruined the climax, was now panting for breath.

Isabelle, even while she was delighted with their applause, despised them. Had they no feeling for the n.o.ble tragedy of Carton? Of course, Tommy Page, the fool----just then she caught Martin Christiansen's eye.

He held up his hands to her, clapping, and bowing and throwing kisses.

He rushed to the garden, and came back with a huge sunflower which he tossed to her, calling: "Author!"

After many and prolonged calls, Isabelle came modestly forth.

"Thank you," she said. "I think Mr. Charles d.i.c.kens is dead; if he is, I will thank you for him."

"Company! Company!" shouted the parents and relatives. Isabelle felt this to be bad discipline for the actors, but after a moment's hesitation, she led them all forth.

Martin Christiansen was the first to reach her side. With a low bow he indicated the sunflower which she carried.

"My flower!" he murmured tenderly. "Isabelle, I've seen them all, Bernhardt, Duse, Fiske, but I've never seen any acting that could be compared with yours!"

It was that supreme moment which made up to Isabelle for everything else.

She knew then the joy of appreciation--knew that Martin Christiansen was a finer soul, and akin unto her own!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Isabelle's debut as dramatist and actress was much discussed and laughed over in the colony. Her pranks had long been a favourite topic, but this last one marked her as a real personality.

"Isabelle," Martin Christiansen said to her, a day or so after the performance, "you gave me so much pleasure with your interpretation of Mr. d.i.c.kens's work, that I want to do something for your pleasure."

"Do you?" said Isabelle, enthusiastically.

"Theatrical stars are so temperamental, I scarcely know what to suggest.

What does a leading lady and producer like to do in her moments of idle ease?"

It was a great opportunity, and Isabelle considered it at length.

"I should like to go bathing on the club beach, and have lunch afterwards on the club porch."

"Most reasonable of Leading Ladies, what day would suit you best?"

"To-morrow"--promptly.

"Good. Shall we say at eleven? I will give myself the honour of coming for you."

"You ask Max to let me go, will you?"

"With pleasure. Shall we ask the other members of your company, too?

Does a star permit the company to eat below the salt?"

"Oh no, don't let's have them--just you and me."

"Most flattering. I would prefer that."

"You won't ask the Wallys?"

"You refer to your parents?"

She nodded.

"This is your party--you may ask the guests," he laughed.

So it was decided, and Christiansen broke the news to her mother.

"I think she should have a chaperon. You might ask me."

"She was very explicit that the party was to be a tete-a-tete."

"She'd never ask me," laughed her mother.

"Aren't you friendly?"--curiously.

"Oh, not at all."

The next morning Max honoured Miss Watts and Isabelle with an unexpected call.

"What is she going to wear, Miss Watts?" she inquired.

"I'm going to wear my riding clothes," announced Isabelle.

"How ridiculous! You're going in a motor, not on a horse."

"I don't care. I look better in my riding clothes."

"You'll put on a white organdie frock and a big hat."

"I won't! I hate those girl-things! They look silly on me."

"All children of your age wear white dresses and pink sashes, Isabelle,"

interpolated Miss Watts.

"Well, I'm not a pink-sash child!" quoth Isabelle, with one of her flashes of insight.

"Oh, well, Miss Watts, let her go in her riding boots. If she wants to make a laughing-stock of herself, let her! Poor Mr. Christiansen will be sorry he ever asked her!" said Mrs. Bryce.

"Very well. I'll wear a white linen dress, with a black belt, and my black hat," announced the girl.