Miser Farebrother Volume I Part 14

"Go away, there's a good boy," said the mother; "you will only put things back."

Robert, however, showed no inclination to leave the kitchen, but hovered about Phoebe like a b.u.t.terfly about a flower.

"_Do_ you hear what mother says?" demanded f.a.n.n.y, imperiously; she was given to lord it occasionally over her brother. "Go at once, and listen to the gentlemen, and have your mind improved."

"Now you're chaffing me," said Robert, "and you know that always puts my back up."

Mrs. Lethbridge looked around with affectionate distraction in her aspect.

"Go, Robert," said Phoebe.

"Not if you call me 'Robert,' said he.

"Well, Bob."

"All right, I'll vanish. f.a.n.n.y, there's a s.m.u.t on your nose."

Which caused f.a.n.n.y to rub that feature smartly with her handkerchief, and then to ask Phoebe in a tone of concern, "Is it off?" This sent Robert from the kitchen laughing, while f.a.n.n.y called out to him that she would pay him for it. She laughed too, when he was gone, and declared that he was getting a greater tease every day. Presently all was bustle; the best cups and saucers were taken from the cupboard, and Phoebe, with her sleeves tucked up, was dusting them; f.a.n.n.y was cutting the bread and b.u.t.tering it; Aunt Leth was busy with eggs and rashers of bacon, and the frying-pan was on the fire; while, attending to the frying-pan and the kettle and the teapot, and working away generally with a will, was the most important person in the kitchen--the G.o.ddess, indeed, of that region--whose name, with a strange remissness, has not yet been mentioned: 'Melia Jane!

In these days of fine-lady-servants, the mere mention of so inestimable a treasure is an agreeable thing; for if ever there was a devoted, untiring, unselfish, capable, cheerful slave of the broom and the pan, that being was 'Melia Jane. Up early in the morning, without ever being called; up late at night, without a murmur; no Sundays out, as a law, the violation of which was a graver matter than the separation of church and state; cooking, scrubbing, was.h.i.+ng, with a light heart, and as happy as the day is long. Could I write an epic, I would set about it, and call it "'Melia Jane."

Not a beauty; somewhat the reverse, indeed. But "Lor!" as she used to say, scratching her elbow, "beauty's only skin-deep." Nevertheless, she wors.h.i.+pped it in the persons of f.a.n.n.y and Phoebe, to whom she was devotedly attached. Of the two, she leaned, perhaps, more closely and affectionately to Phoebe, for whom she entertained the profoundest admiration, "Wenus," she declared, "couldn't 'old a candle to 'er." And had she been asked, in the way of disputation, under what circ.u.mstances and to what intelligible purpose that G.o.ddess could be expected to hold a candle to Phoebe, she would doubtless have been prepared with a reply which would have confounded the interrogator.

She had a history, which can be briefly recorded.

Like all careful housewives with limited incomes, Mrs. Lethbridge had her was.h.i.+ng "done" at home, and 'Melia Jane's mother, in times gone by, was Aunt Leth's washer-woman. She died when 'Melia Jane was ten years old, and the child, being friendless and penniless, was admitted into Mrs. Lethbridge's kitchen as a kind of juvenile help. She proved to be so clever and willing, and so "teachable," as Mrs. Lethbridge said, that when the old servant left to get married, 'Melia Jane took her place, and from that day did the entire work of the house. For the present, this brief record is sufficient. More of 'Melia Jane anon.

Robert burst into the kitchen in a state of great excitement.

"Mother, you didn't tell me Mr. Linton was a dramatic author. Just think, Phoebe; he writes plays! Isn't it grand?"

The girls opened their eyes very wide. There was indeed a luminary in the house, a star of the first magnitude. A dramatic author! It was enough to make them tremble.

"But why have you left them, Bob?" asked Mrs. Lethbridge.

"I was told to go," replied Robert. "They did not want me. They're talking business."

"Business!" exclaimed Mrs. Lethbridge. "What business can they have with father?"

"Perhaps," suggested Robert, "he is going to take a theatre, and Mr.

Linton is going to write the plays, and Mr. Kiss is going to act in them."

"What nonsense you talk!" said Mrs. Lethbridge.

"Mother," said Robert, solemnly, "my mind's made up."

"A very small parcel," remarked f.a.n.n.y, thus paying him off for the s.m.u.t on her nose.

"I'm serious," said Robert; "I'm fixed--yes, fixed as the polar star.

That sounds well. I shall go on the stage."

"And off again, very quick," said f.a.n.n.y.

"What! turn actor, Bob?" exclaimed Mrs. Lethbridge.

"Yes," said Robert, folding his arms; "a second Irving."

"Avaunt, and quit my sight!" cried Phoebe, seizing the rolling-pin and striking an att.i.tude.

They all fell to laughing, and 'Melia Jane stared at the young people, with her eyes almost starting out of their sockets.

CHAPTER XI.

KISS HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THEATRICAL MANAGERS.

Meanwhile the gentlemen upstairs were discussing a serious subject.

"I told you about our friend's play," said Kiss to Mr. Lethbridge--"his undeservedly unsuccessful play, produced a fort-night since at the Star Theatre. There are lines in it which would make the fortune of a poet, but these are not poetical days--on the stage. At a certain theatre, where an eminent brother of the craft, to whom I take off my hat"--he had no hat to take off, but he went through the necessary action--"has the ear of the public, and a following which is simply amazing to contemplate--at that theatre, I grant you, the poetical drama can be produced with great results; and also at one other temple of the drama, where a lady, admired and loved by all, reigns as queen; but produced elsewhere, it is risky, very. It requires, for success, a perfect and harmonious combination of rare forces, and such a following as I have spoken of, and these are only to be found in those two theatres. Do you take?"

"Do I understand you?" said Mr. Lethbridge, deeply interested. "Yes."

"With _such_ actors," continued Kiss, "with _such_ an organization, with _such_ resources, with _such_ lavish, but not unwise, expenditure, with _such_ a following, not only the poetical drama, but any kind of drama, may be staged with a.s.sured result. Had Linton's play been produced _there_, you would see him now all smiles instead of down in the dumps. I don't say to him 'What is the use?' A man has his feelings, and a dramatic author has a double share, which makes it bad for him when the reverse happens. Linton's play was not produced at one of the theatres I have indicated--more's the pity. But a time may come.

Do you hear me, Linton?"

"I am deeply grateful to you," said Mr. Linton. "You are the best fellow in the world."

"That is sentiment, mere sentiment," said Kiss, coughing down the compliment. "We are now talking business, and I am, so to speak, showing our mutual friend the ropes, and letting him behind the scenes.

Not quite the fairy-land most people imagine. I was engaged for the run of Linton's play, and as it ran off instead of on, I am now out of an engagement. Do I blame him? Not a bit of it. He would have as much reason to blame me. You see, Leth, there are certain rules and certain fas.h.i.+ons in our line which it is as dangerous to violate as in most lines of business. For instance, would you take a shop on the wrong side of the road?"

"No," replied Mr. Lethbridge, rather vaguely.

"There are business sides and unbusiness sides. Here, a shop is worth five hundred pounds a year; across the road it isn't worth fifty. So with theatres. Here, comedy; here, comic opera; here, melodrama; here, spectacle; here, Shakespeare and the cla.s.sic; and so on, and so on.

Risk the unsuitable and you come to grief. That's what we did; for I'm bound to confess that Linton was largely influenced by my advice in the matter. I had so firm a belief in the play that I thought it would score anywhere. It _did_ score at the Star, but it scored the wrong way, because it was played at the wrong theatre. A knock-down blow!

What then? Why, rise, and at it again!--yes, though you get a dozen knock-down blows. Nil desperandum: that's my motto. Life's a fight. Are you waiting for a cue, Linton?"

"You are quite right in your observations," said the poor author, with a sad smile; "but it is easier for you to rise after a knock-down blow than it is with me. You are a favourite with the public; they welcome you the moment you make your appearance. The last time I appeared before them they howled at me. And it meant so much! It was not only a case of disappointed ambition and wounded vanity, but there was, at home----I beg your pardon; I scarcely know what I was about to say."

Mr. Lethbridge thought of the empty platters which Kiss had spoken of, and he gazed commiseratingly at Mr. Linton.

"Now, wouldn't you suppose," said Kiss, addressing himself to Mr.

Lethbridge, "that Linton was so overwhelmed at his failure that he had no heart to try again? I am happy to say that is not the case. He has already got another play ready, a better one than the last, a play that is bound to hit 'em?"

"I am delighted to hear it," said Mr. Lethbridge, with a bright smile.

"I must come the first night; we'll all come--mother and f.a.n.n.y and Phoebe and Bob. I dare say we shall be able to find room in the pit."