The Morning Glory Club Part 16

"The Duke," replied Miss Sawyer.

"Goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout. "Have I got to be the first one?"

"Certainly; come right in and act as naturally as you can," said Miss Sawyer, with a patronizing air of encouragement.

Mrs. Stout entered, followed by her "soot," as she called it, and stood staring at the open book before her--dumb.

"Well?" Miss Sawyer looked up inquiringly.

"Shall I say what I've got to now?" asked Mrs. Stout.

"Yes, but face the audience first." Strange to relate, Mrs. Stout seemed to be confused. She turned, but the wrong way. "No, no," Miss Sawyer corrected, nervously, "this way."

"Oh," said Mrs. Stout, as she faced in the right direction and began to read.

"It's your turn, Mrs. Blake," prompted Miss Sawyer, when Mrs. Stout had read her first line. (One would have thought that they were playing croquet.)

"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Blake, all in a flutter, "is it?" and then when she had found the place, read, "'Ready, so please your grace.'"

And so the rehearsal of the famous scene hitched along until the approach of Shylock was announced. Mrs. Tweedie, who was to play the part, was ready, and entered at precisely the right moment with her accustomed a.s.surance. And when Mrs. Stout had waded and stumbled through the long speech of the Duke to Shylock, Mrs. Tweedie, scorning to look at her book, began her lines. She had seen a famous actor play the part, and tried to imitate him, but failed horribly.

Harmony prevailed until Mrs. Jones balked at a word in the text that a lady of the Morning Glory Club would not use--outside of her family circle.

"I cannot, will not, use such a word!" she exclaimed, with tears in her eyes.

"But, my dear Mrs. Jones," entreated Mrs. Tweedie, "this is the work of Shakespeare, a cla.s.sic."

"Umph!" grunted Mrs. Stout, who had discovered the word in question. "If such words are all right here, then our men folks are quoting the cla.s.sics and the Bible most of the time."

"My dear ladies," interposed Miss Sawyer, "you do not seem to understand the sense in which the word is used; your view-point is incorrect."

"Well," said Mrs. Stout, "I know that when my husband quotes the cla.s.sics folks most always _see_ the point."

"Oh, bother!" interrupted f.a.n.n.y Tweedie. "Let's skip the naughty words; I'm just dying to have this rehearsal over with."

"f.a.n.n.y," reproved Mrs. Tweedie. "Do proceed, Mrs. Jones, I am sure that as we go on we will find a way out of the difficulty."

Mrs. Jones went on with her part, mouthing her lines meaninglessly.

"'The quality of Mercy is not strain'd--'" read f.a.n.n.y Tweedie, in a strained voice.

Mrs. Stout interrupted her by innocently observing: "I wonder why Shakespeare used so many old sayin's."

Mrs. Tweedie and Miss Sawyer turned pale; f.a.n.n.y Tweedie giggled unreproved, and then another of those painful silences prevailed.

"Mrs. Stout," said Mrs. Tweedie, when she could control herself, "_we_ have been quoting Shakespeare for over three hundred years; _he_ never quoted anybody."

"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout; then she laughingly added: "Perhaps you and Miss Sawyer have been quotin' him for three hundred years, but I'm mighty sure that I ain't."

"When I said _we_ I meant the world," replied Mrs. Tweedie, haughtily.

"Oh," said Mrs. Stout, and the incident was closed.

"What an unfeeling wretch that Shylock was," observed Mrs. Blake, after the rehearsal had continued without interruption for several minutes.

"It makes me shudder to think of such a man. How are you going to dress for the part, Mrs. Tweedie?"

"I shall endeavour to dress appropriately, and as becomes my s.e.x,"

replied Mrs. Tweedie.

"Ladies, let us not waste valuable time talking dress," said Miss Sawyer, impatiently.

"What's the harm, I'd like to know; who's got a better right to talk about dress than us women?" asked Mrs. Stout, pertly.

"But is the subject appropriate at this time?" retorted Miss Sawyer.

"It's always appropriate," replied Mrs. Stout. "A woman can't be happy unless she's well dressed, or thinks she is, any more'n a man can be good-natured on an empty stomach."

"Which proves the inferiority of the _other s.e.x_," said Mrs. Tweedie.

"Ump! I don't know about that," replied Mrs. Stout. "We make just as big fools of ourselves about dressin' as the men do about eatin' and drinkin'."

"Indeed, and is it not commendable to appear as well as one can?"

queried Mrs. Tweedie.

"That's all right," retorted Mrs. Stout, "if it ended there, but it don't. Most women folks would wear a smile, a pink ribbon, and rings on their toes if the fashion papers said it was proper, and then wonder why the men stared at 'em."

"Because some women err in such matters, are we--" remonstrated Mrs.

Jones, mildly, but f.a.n.n.y interrupted her.

"Oh," she exclaimed, in her explosive manner, "I'm in the greatest luck!

Miss Wallace is going to let me take her graduation cap and gown. I've tried them on and the effect is just killing."

"You are very fortunate, and how is Miss Wallace?" asked Mrs. Blake.

"Tired out," replied f.a.n.n.y, "running around calling on sick children."

"I have heard," said Mrs. Darling, "that Miss Wallace spent an evening at the store a few days ago."

"There ain't a word of truth in it!" hotly replied Mrs. Stout. "She went there just for a minute to get Doctor Jones and Mr. Blake the night little Bessie Duncan died. The way such lies travel beats automobiles."

"Oh, of course, I didn't believe it for one moment," simpered Mrs.

Darling, "and I wouldn't say a word to injure her for worlds--she's such a _lovely_ girl."

"Girl," said Mrs. Thornton, "she's every day of twenty-five."

"Why!" exclaimed Mrs. Blake, "I wouldn't have believed it."

"Well," drawled Mrs. Stout, "it's a long time since any of us, 'ceptin'

f.a.n.n.y, was that age."