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Updated: May 13, 2025
He entered his name on the register with a flourish, "Bartley J. Hubbard and Wife, Boston," and asked for a room and fire, with laconic gruffness; but the clerk knew him at once for a country person, and when the call-boy followed him into the parlor where Marcia sat, in the tremor into which she fell whenever Bartley was out of her sight, the call-boy discerned her provinciality at a glance, and made free to say that he guessed they had better let him take their things up to their room, and come up themselves after the porter had got their fire going.
The bird-like gentleman in his glass cage was fluttering, agitated. The hands of the stage carpenters putting the finishing touches to the scenery were trembling, their voices passionate with anxiety; the fox-terrier-like call-boy was pale with sense of responsibility.
Neither he nor the star received the slightest applause during their scenes. "Wait until the fourth act, the great act of the piece," replied Fogg, "and I'll fetch 'em. You just watch me." "All ready for the second act," cried out the call-boy. A few seconds later the curtain went up and the play proceeded. Nothing of particular moment transpired during the act.
"Bracegirdle!" said Mrs. Clive; "why, she has been dead this thirty years; at least I thought so." "Dead to the stage. There is more heat in her ashes than in your fire, Kate Clive! Ah! here comes her messenger," continued he, as an ancient man appeared with a letter in his hand. This letter Mrs. Woffington snatched and read, and at the same instant in bounced the call-boy.
Alas, a very little reflection showed me that the latter was perfectly practicable; but that, as a junior counsel, five minutes of very common-place recitation was all my province, and with the main business of the day I had about as much to do as the call-boy of a playhouse has with the success of a tragedy.
Fanny Dorville interceded in vain for the victim; the inexorable duenna had already seized a fourth glass, and the final catastrophe would have been infallibly brought about, had not providence intervened in the person of the call-boy, who, thrusting his head through the half-open doorway, cried, shrilly: "Ladies, they are about to begin!"
"We dare not trust him," said the Major, "Lord bless you, when the call-boy would sing out for Captain Beaugarde in the second act, we'd find that he had Levanted with our best slashed trowsers, and a bird of paradise feather in his cap."
Before Holmes could express his delight and gratitude at the unexpected relief, a call-boy, passing among the guests, shouted: "Mr. Jefferson Worth! Mr. Jefferson Worth!" The banker opened the message, read it, then without a word-handed the yellow slip to his companion. The engineer read: "Banks in Basin won't accept New York business. Can't handle pay checks.
She moved forward, and, by dint of following the call-boy, at length reached the stage. Applause good-natured applause seemed to roll towards her from the uttermost parts of the vast auditorium. She realized with a start that this applause was exclusively for her.
"Miss Beryl Blackburn's compliments, Mr. Topham, and would you step to the door, as there's something most important she wants to tell you." Oh, I loved every syllable that call-boy spoke! There was a giggle behind his voice, too; old Topham was the butt of every joke. The first call, which had fooled me, must have been from some giddy girl who wanted to guy the old fellow.
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