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Updated: May 13, 2025
When, finally, a roar from the back of the auditorium announced the arrival of Mr Goble and at the same time indicated Mr Goble's desire that the stage should be cleared and the rehearsal proper begin, a wan smile of recognition and a faint "What ho!" was all that Freddie was able to bestow upon Jill, before, with the rest of the ensemble, they had to go out and group themselves for the opening chorus.
"By Hercules and Vulcan," he cried, when at last I had set the landlord down, "what an arm and back the lad has! He must have the best in the house, Goble, and sup with me." Goble pulled himself together. "And he is your honour's friend," he began, with a scowl. "Ay, he is my friend, I tell you," retorted the important personage, impatiently.
He sent his servant to quarrel with Goble because he had not been given iced water. While he was tapping on the table I took occasion to observe him. His was a physiognomy to strike the stranger, not by reason of its nobility, but because of its oddity. He had a prodigious length of face, the nose long in proportion, but not prominent.
"It has perhaps a little too much er not quite enough yes, I see what you mean!" "It's too damn BLUE!" rasped Mr Goble, impatient of this vacillating criticism. "That's what's the matter with it." The head carpenter abandoned the silent policy of a lifetime. He felt impelled to utter.
"Pray, my good Goble, why all this fol-de-rol about admitting a gentleman to your house?" I scarce know which was the more astonished, the landlord, John Paul, or I. Goble bowed at the speaker. "A gentleman, your honour!" he gasped. "Your honour is joking again. Surely this trumpery Scotchman in Jews' finery is no gentleman, nor the longshore lout he has got with him. They may go to the 'Swan."
Mr Goble cocked his cigar at a fierce angle, and glared at Wally. Something told him that Wally's sympathies were not wholly with him. "They can't do this sort of thing to me," he growled. "Well, they are doing it to someone, aren't they," said Wally, "and, if it's not you, who is it?" "I've a damned good mind to fire them all!" "A corking idea!
"Woddyerwant?" enquired Ralph, coming within an ace of condensing the question into a word of one syllable. "I want to see Mr Goble." "Zout!" said the Pimple King, and returned to his paper. There will, no doubt, always be class distinctions.
"But, Otie darling, I was talking to Mr Mason, when he came down to Newport to see the piece last summer, and he told me that the management nearly always gives a supper to the company, especially if they have had a lot of extra rehearsing to do." "Well, let Goble give them a supper if he wants to."
"Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me just how you think that part should be played?" Mr Goble marched down the aisle. "Speak out to the audience," he said, stationing himself by the orchestra pit. "You're turning your head away all the darned time."
"I shouldn't have thought you would have been so" Jill sought for a devastating adjective "so mid-Victorian!" "As far as you are concerned, I'm the middest Victorian in existence. Mid is my middle name." Wally met her indignant gaze squarely. "I-do-not-like-your-being-on-the-stage! Especially in any company which Ike Goble is running." "Why Mr Goble particularly?"
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