LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1901, 29 March 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A CHARADE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. ([Abridged from the Christmas Number of “ Belgravia.” CConcluded.) The appointed day again drew near ; and on this occasion I had absolutely insisted that every character should have his or her substitute, so that my friends should not be made fools of a second time. My wife (who, like all women, will run any risk) called me a ‘ dear old fidget; ’ but in this, as I fondly flattered myself, I had my way. Tom assured me that he had placed copies of “ The Deputy ” in safe hands, and that if either actor or actress should f*ll ill a duplicate could be procured at an hour’s notice. Only this arrangement, of course, neces sitated six more people (the number of characters represented) being asked to the entertainment, and increased the probability of the floor giving way. I was well pleased to find that my wife and X were to stand in the doorway of the drawing-room to receive our guests, for underneath that there was a j oist. Now, it would not be credited by persons who are unacquainted with the female character, but upon the very morning of the day that my play was to ba acted, and when she knew that everything depended upon her keeping all right, that abominable girl Rose Symoads must needs go to the Bslgravian Rink and break her leg. If she had broken her neck—which, considering her weight and size, was likely enough—she could not have done worse, so far as we were concerned. The news came just as our little company were getting ready for the morning rehearsal, and a pretty commotion it caused. ‘However,’ said I, ‘thank goodness and my foresight, you have made sure of a substitute, Tom ; so take a cab and fetched her.’ ‘My dear James,’ said my wife, turning very pale, ‘ the lady we thought of was Miss Kemble, of Exeter.’ ‘ Then telegraph for her immediately, and prepay reply.’ I was in that state of mind when it is dangerous for even a man's wife to contradict him ; and Tom started off at once. In half an hour he brought hack the message : —‘ Will come up in time, and quite prepared.’ I almost burst into tears at the relief, and felt so mollified towards the authoress of our calamity as to express a hops that it would not be necessary to cut her leg off higher than the ankle. Fortunately Tom had thought of ascertaining the new performer’s height in inches—and even round the waist —and Miss Rose’s stage costume was altered accordingly to suit her. None of us, as it happened, had seen Miss Kate Kemble since she was a child, but she had given promise of good looks, so we all hoped for the best. I am bound to say that she proved to be very satisfactory In that respect. She arrived just in time for one dress rehearsal, and was received with open arms; indeed, I was so charmed with her prompt proceedings, and also touched with the remembrance of my old friendship for her father, the canon, that I gave her a parental kiss, at which I saw Tom snigger. I confess I didn’t ask much after her father, but then there was no time for anything but business. She was to sleep at her aunt’s house in town, and return to Exeter the next day. She had really got up her part extremely well, and looked the character to perfection. She had not so grand an appearance as the Symonds, but had ten times the vivacity. I could see that Tom vastly preferred her to the other, and of course he was the best judge; but it struck me that my wife and daughters were a little stiff with her, which, considering the great obligation we were under, I thought very bad taste, and therefore I made up for it all I could. Curiously enough, whenever I made myself agreeab’e to the poor girl, I saw Tom snigger. But nothing made much impression upon me at that time, my mind being monopolised with the drama and the instability of the draw-ing-room floor. Modesty forbids mo to say more of the performance of “ The Deputy ” than that it was a complete success. The actors did every justice to the play, especially Miss Kemble, who was perfectly self-possessed, and, as Tom observed, ‘‘fairly drew down the house. ” I replied that I was very glad to say she didn’t, though I have reason to believe, from the cracks that afterwards appeared in the dining-room ceiling, that she was within a very little of doing it. Everything went off well, including the audience; and when I put Kate Kemble, who was the last to go, i'.to her cab, I could really have found ic in my heart to kiss her, only Tom stood by with that eternal snigger. However, I spoke of her to my wife and the girls as she deserved to be spoken of, and I am bound to say that they allowed that she had spoken to perfection. Perhaps she had put the girls a little into the shade, but they had plenty of praise for their own share ; and on the whole, we had all cause to congratulate ourselves. You may imagine, good reader, that there is nothing more to be told ; but 1 am sorry to say you are mistaken. The success of my dramatic trifle gave me a temporary interest in the theatres, and I attended them more than once. On one occasion, when my own people happened to be going out to the concert (a thing I detest) I asked Tom to dine with me at the club, and afterwards to go to the play. ‘ What play is it on which you have set your affections?’ asked Tom as we were discussing our fish. ‘Oh,’ said I, ‘I have got two stalls for the Variety; there’s a very pretty piece, they tell me, going on there ’ ‘Ob, I don’t think you’ll like that, uncle,’ observed Tom, turning very pale. ‘ What’s the matter ?' said I, thinking the ralmnn was disagreeing with him. ‘Well, I don’t think that play will please you. I think we’d better go somewhere «lss ’ ‘ Stuff and nonsense I It’s a very proper play. Old Dudgeon told me he had taken his wife and family to see it, and I am sure he is particular enough.’ ‘You’ll do as you please,’ replied Tom, with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Ofcourse I shall,’ said I; and wo went. It was a lively play enough—though certainly without the wit of * The Deputy ; but the remarkable point about it was one of the players. ‘ Why, bless my soul and body!’ cried I, as the heroine entered, ‘ that’s Miss Kate Kemble.’ ‘ No. no,’ said Tom ; * she’s only very like her ; it’s an accidental circumstance.’ But I saw her distinctly give a nod of recognition to Tom and an unmistakeable smile to me.

‘Good heavens!’ said I, ‘I shall never forgive myself, Tom, if that poor girl’s success at our house should have induced her to go upon the stage in defiance of her family. What must the canon think of his old friend——’ ‘My dear uncle, she has nothing to do with the canon,’interrupted Tom, struggling with an inward convulsion of laughter ; ‘ she is a very good girl, but she is a professional actress, and not Miss Kemble at all. Of course we could not have procured her services at a moment’s notice, even if we had bespoken them, which we had not thought it worth while to do. You were right, of course, as yon always are, uncle ; but we did not take the precautions you suggested. When the Symonds broke her leg, there was nothing for it but to engage yonder excellent young woman, which I did. I told my aunt and the girls about it, but we thought it best not to tell you ; for though the young lady is highly respectable, and her father’s an architect, you might have made objections.’ ‘You abominable young scoundrel,’ said I, ‘how darad you do such a thing?’ ‘Well, I thought anything was preferable to making a failure of your excellent plav There has been no harm done after all; though, under the circumstances, it was a misfortune that your old friendship with her supposed father, the canon, should have carried yon to —at least, I think I saw you ’ ‘ Dear me !’ said I, growing red all over, ‘ so I did ; I really believe I kissed her. Well, well, let bygones bo bygones, and don’t lot ns say anything more about it to anybody.’ rm 1 forgave Tom upon the understanding that he should never tell; and my wife and the gir's do not know to this hour that I kce -v how shamefully they tricked me ; and, above al, my brother Jack doesn’t knew, or tie I should never hear the last of the ‘ small end i of the wedge, * and what came of our private * theatricals.