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Updated: June 13, 2025
The assistant stage-director bent sedulously over the footlights, which had now been turned up, shading his eyes with the prompt script. "Take that over again!" shouted Mr Goble. "Yes, that speech about life being like a water-melon. It don't sound to me as though it meant anything." He cocked his cigar at an angle, and listened fiercely. He clapped his hands. The action stopped again.
I've just got work with Goble and Cohn. . . . Hullo, Phil!" A young man with a lithe figure and smooth black hair brushed straight back from his forehead had paused at the table on his way to the cashier's desk. "Hello, Nelly." "I didn't know you lunched here." "Don't often. Been rehearsing with Joe up at the Century Roof, and had a quarter of an hour to get a bite. Can I sit down?" "Sure.
It is sad to think how swiftly affection can change to dislike in this world. Two weeks before, Mr Goble had looked on Jill with favor. She had seemed good in his eyes. But that refusal of hers to lunch with him, followed by a refusal some days later to take a bit of supper somewhere, had altered his views on feminine charm.
I should like to time you over the course in running-kit." The interval for reflection, brief as it had been, had apparently enabled Mr Goble to come to a decision. "Go," he said to the stage director, "and tell 'em that fool of a D'Arcy girl can play. We've got to get that curtain up." "Yes, Mr Goble." The stage director galloped off.
Jill exhibited a piece of paper stamped with the letter-heading of the management. "It's about this," she said. "I found it in the box as I was going out." "What's that?" "It seems to be a fortnight's notice." "And that," said Mr Goble, "is what it is!" Wally uttered an exclamation. "Do you mean to say . . . ?" "Yes, I do!" said the manager, turning on him. He felt that he had out-maneuvred Wally.
"What are you h'ming about?" demanded Wally, astonished. "The thing's a riot." "You never know," responded Mr Goble in the minor key. "Well!" Wally stared. "I don't know what more you want. The audience sat up on its hind legs and squealed, didn't they?"
It occurred to him that, by substituting for the asking of a favor a peremptory demand, he might save himself a thousand dollars. "I want the stage after the performance tomorrow night, for a supper to the company," he said brusquely. He was shocked to find Mr Goble immediately complaisant. "Why, sure," said Mr Goble readily. "Go as far as you like!"
"Forgotten Sports of the Past Splitting the Straw. All right. If you drop me a line to that effect, legibly signed with your name, I'll wear it next my heart. I shall have to go now. I have a date. Good-bye. Glad everything's settled and everybody's happy." For some moments after Wally had left, Mr Goble sat hunched up in his orchestra-chair, smoking sullenly, his mood less sunny than ever.
"I should like to speak to you for a moment, Mr Goble, if I may." It was Jill, who had joined the group unperceived. Mr Goble glowered at Jill, who met his gaze composedly. "I'm busy!" snapped Mr Goble. "See me tomorrow!" "I would prefer to see you now." "You would prefer!" Mr Goble waved his hands despairingly, as if calling on heaven to witness the persecution of a good man.
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.
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