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It was the latter's custom to leave the early rehearsals of the pieces with which he was connected to a subordinate producer, who did what Mr Goble called the breaking-in. This accomplished, he would appear in person, undo most of the other's work, make cuts, tell the actors how to read their lines, and generally enjoy himself. Producing plays was Mr Goble's hobby.
One or two of the principals were standing perplexedly in the lower entrance. The O. P. side had been given over by general consent to Mr Goble for his perambulations. Every now and then he would flash into view through an opening in the scenery. "I understood that tonight was the night for the great revival of comic opera. Where are the comics, and why aren't they opping?"
Now, directly the curtain has fallen, Otie dear, pop right round and find Mr Goble and tell him what you want." It is not only twin-souls in this world who yearn to meet each other. Between Otis Pilkington and Mr Goble there was little in common, yet, at the moment when Otis set out to find Mr Goble, the thing which Mr Goble desired most in the world was an interview with Otis.
And, as the Duchess had a habit of carrying her haughty languor onto the stage and employing it as a substitute for the chorea which was Mr. Miller's ideal, the dancer-director had chosen her. To Mr Goble's dislike of Jill, therefore, was added now something of the fury of the baffled potentate. "'Jer want?" he demanded. "Mr Goble is extremely busy," said the stage-director. "Ex-tremely."
Faucitt, who was a stern judge of acting and rather inclined to consider that nowadays there was no such thing, believed that she was a girl with a future who would do something big directly she got her chance. "Jerry!" She gave his arm a hug. "How simply terrific! Then Goble and Kohn have changed their minds after all and want it? I knew they would."
What's up? It sounds as if there were dirty work at the cross-roads!" The voice of the assistant stage-manager was calling sharply excited, agitation in every syllable. "All the gentlemen of the chorus on the stage, please! Mr Goble wants all the chorus gentlemen on the stage!" "Well, cheerio for the present," said Freddie. "I suppose I'd better look into this." He made his way onto the stage.
"But you know that Mr Goble, though he has his name on the programme as the manager, has really nothing to do with it. You own the piece, don't you?" For a moment Mr Pilkington felt an impulse to reveal all, but refrained. He knew his Aunt Olive too well.
Lois was looking pale and proud, and from the few words which came to Jill's ears as they neared her, seemed to be annoyed at having been kept waiting. It was immediately after this that the swing-doors revolved rather more violently than usual, and Mr Goble burst into view.
Shall we say twenty-five thousand?" "We will not say twenty-five thousand! Let me go!" "Now, now, now!" pleaded Mr Goble. "Be sensible! don't get all worked up! Say, do have a good cigar!" "I won't have a good cigar!" shouted Mr Pilkington. He detached himself with a jerk, and stalked with long strides up the stage. Mr Goble watched him go with a lowering gaze.
"Cut it!" said Mr Goble tersely. "Cut the speech, Mr Goble?" queried the obsequious assistant stage-director. "Yes. Cut it. It don't mean nothing!" Down the aisle, springing from a seat at the back, shimmered Mr Pilkington, wounded to the quick. "Mr Goble! Mr Goble!" "Well?" "That is the best epigram in the play." "The best what?" "Epigram. The best epigram in the play." Mr.
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