but then it's acting, it's amateur, it's art. See? I do everything, from Sheeny monologue to
team song and dance and Dutch comedian. Sure, I'm Charley Welsh, the Only Charley
Welsh."
And in this fashion, while the thin, dark man and the large, blond woman warbled dulcetly
out on the stage and the other professionals followed in their turns, did Charley Welsh put
Edna wise, giving her much miscellaneous and superfluous information and much that she
stored away for the Sunday Intelligencer.
"Well, tra la loo," he said suddenly. "There's his highness chasin' you up. Yer first on the
bill. Never mind the row when you go on. Just finish yer turn like a lady."
It was at that moment that Edna felt her journalistic ambition departing from her, and was
aware of an overmastering desire to be somewhere else. But the stage manager, like an
ogre, barred her retreat. She could hear the opening bars of her song going up from the
orchestra and the noises of the house dying away to the silence of anticipation.
"Go ahead," Letty whispered, pressing her hand; and from the other side came the
peremptory "Don't flunk!" of Charley Welsh.
But her feet seemed rooted to the floor, and she leaned weakly against a shift scene. The
orchestra was beginning over again, and a lone voice from the house piped with startling
distinctness:
"Puzzle picture! Find Nannie!"
A roar of laughter greeted the sally, and Edna shrank back. But the strong hand of the
manager descended on her shoulder, and with a quick, powerful shove propelled her out on
to the stage. His hand and arm had flashed into full view, and the audience, grasping the
situation, thundered its appreciation. The orchestra was drowned out by the terrible din, and
Edna could see the bows scraping away across the violins, apparently without sound. It was
impossible for her to begin in time, and as she patiently waited, arms akimbo and ears
straining for the music, the house let loose again (a favorite trick, she afterward learned, of
confusing the amateur by preventing him or her from hearing the orchestra).
But Edna was recovering her presence of mind. She became aware, pit to dome, of a vast
sea of smiling and fun-distorted faces, of vast roars of laughter, rising wave on wave, and
then her Scotch blood went cold and angry. The hard-working but silent orchestra gave her
the cue, and, without making a sound, she began to move her lips, stretch forth her arms,
and sway her body, as though she were really singing. The noise in the house redoubled in
the attempt to drown her voice, but she serenely went on with her pantomime. This seemed
to continue an interminable time, when the audience, tiring of its prank and in order to hear,
suddenly stilled its clamor, and discovered the dumb show she had been making. For a
moment all was silent, save for the orchestra, her lips moving on without a sound, and then
the audience realized that it had been sold, and broke out afresh, this time with genuine
applause in acknowledgment of her victory. She chose this as the happy moment for her
exit, and with a bow and a backward retreat, she was off the stage in Letty's arms.
The worst was past, and for the rest of the evening she moved about among the amateurs