Miser Farebrother (Vol. 1-3). B. L. Farjeon
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 washing "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, Phœbe; 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 Fanny, thus paying him off for the smut 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 Fanny.
"What! turn actor, Bob?" exclaimed Mrs. Lethbridge.
"Yes," said Robert, folding his arms; "a second Irving."
"Avaunt, and quit my sight!" cried Phœbe, seizing the rolling-pin and striking an attitude.
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 assured 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 fashions 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 classic; 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 Fanny and Phœbe and Bob. I dare say we shall be able to find room in the pit."
"Plenty," observed Mr. Linton, moodily.
"And bring good thick sticks with you," said Kiss, "to help the applause."
"When is it to be played," asked Mr. Lethbridge, laughing at the suggestion of the big sticks, "and where?"
"Ah," said Kiss, "that's the rub. It is a question not yet decided."
"There are so many managers after it, I suppose?" said Mr. Lethbridge, innocently. "Look at it from a business point of view; accept the best offer at the best theatre."
Kiss leant back in his chair, and laughed long and loud. He had a particularly merry laugh, and the sound was heard in the kitchen.
("That's Mr. Kiss laughing," said Fanny. "The author has said something funny."
"I hope uncle will remember it," added Phœbe, "and tell us what it is. How wonderfully an author must talk, and what wonderful minds they must have! How ever do they think of things?")
"The fact is, Leth," said Kiss, presently, "we have not such a choice of managers and theatres as you imagine."
"Why, surely," said Mr. Lethbridge, "they are only too ready to jump at a good play when it is offered them!"
"If