"The warrior bowed his crested head and tamed his heart of fire,And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire."
"The warrior bowed his crested head and tamed his heart of fire,And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire."
"The warrior bowed his crested head and tamed his heart of fire,And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire."
"The warrior bowed his crested head and tamed his heart of fire,
And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire."
"Yes, I know the poem."
"I got a prize for speaking it at one of our closing examinations," said Leslie, proudly. "Would you like to have me speak it for you now?"
"I afraid it would attract attention in some of the neighboring rooms, as it is a spirited piece."
Leslie looked disappointed but continued. "Then I have spoken 'Young Lochinvar' also—I liked that."
"Did you never speak any prose pieces?"
"No, I didn't care for prose. I like poetry best. I wish we were alone, so I could speak something for you."
"We will go on an excursion some Sunday—say to Weehawken—and then I shall have a chance to hear you."
"I am afraid I shall not be able to stay in the city," said Leslie, gloomily. "I have met nothing but disappointment since I came here."
"Have you inquired for work?" asked Rupert.
"Yes."
"What kind of work?"
"I wanted to be an actor. So I applied at Palmer's Theatre and Daly's this forenoon, and this afternoon I went to others."
"How were you received?" asked Rupert, in considerable curiosity.
"They wouldn't talk with me," answered Leslie, indignantly. "One of the managers laughed at me when I asked if he would let me speak a piece, so that he might judge of my ability."
"Perhaps they had no vacancy," suggested Rupert, trying to keep his countenance.
"They asked me if I had ever acted. Of course I can't till I get the chance. I told himI would be willing to work for five dollars a week till I got some experience. I told them they might try me in small parts. One of them asked me if I had ever played Hamlet. He must have been in fun."
"I should think so."
"Of course great actors like Booth must have served an apprenticeship. I was reading an account of Booth's early life lately, and he began just as I want to begin."
"I expect the profession must be crowded. There was an actor staying at the hotel last week. He is out of employment, and I think he must be out of funds, for he got me to go out and pawn an overcoat for him."
"I am sure I could succeed if I only had a show," continued Leslie. "You don't happen to know any manager, do you?"
"No. Perhaps you would stand a better chance of getting into a variety theatre. Can you sing or dance?"
"No; I should not be willing to. I don't think Booth ever did, or Irving, or Forrest."
"No. I don't think they did."
"And I'll get some time to be a famousactor, so I wouldn't like to have it mentioned in my biographies that I ever played in a variety theatre."
"Are you going to make any more applications, Leslie?"
"I shall apply to every manager in the city," answered Leslie, energetically.
"I like your pluck. You deserve to succeed."
"Didn't you ever think of being an actor?"
"No; I don't think I have any talent for it."
"Don't you like to speak pieces?"
"Pretty well, but I like to write compositions better. How long do you expect to stay in the city?"
"Well, I'll tell you how I am situated. I had twelve dollars in a savings bank in Newark, and I took it out without letting my father know. I was sure he wouldn't approve it, especially if he thought I was trying to go on the stage. You see he doesn't approve of theatres. It is very strange, considering that the greatest man that ever lived was an actor and dramatic author."
"You mean Shakespeare?"
"Yes. However, father is old-fashioned in his ideas. I should like to become a great actor, and make piles of money. Then he might be proud of me."
Leslie's face flushed and his voice trembled, he was so carried away by the thought of becoming a dramatic star.
"You said you had twelve dollars?" remarked Rupert, by way of bringing him back to solid ground.
"Yes; but I have spent four dollars, though I have tried to be economical. I pay seventy-five cents a day for my room, and that counts up."
"Yes, so it does. If you were going to stop long in the city I think I could get a room for you at two dollars a week."
"I should like that, but I can't pay even that if I don't get something to do."
"In that case I suppose you would go home."
"I should have to. I suppose my father is very angry at me."
"Did you leave home without letting him know?"
"Yes; I knew he wouldn't let me come if he knew my plans."
"Didn't you leave a note for him?"
"Yes. I'll tell you what I wrote. I have a copy of it here."
Leslie drew from his pocket a half sheet of note paper, and read aloud the following words:
"Dear Father—"When you read these words I shall be far from home. I suppose I ought not to go, but I am tired of the country, and I want to win fame and fortune. I have a plan in view which I have considered for years. I won't tell you what it is now, for though strictly honorable, you might not approve it. I think I understand myself better than you do, though you are my father. I will let you hear from me soon. Your son,Leslie Waters."
"Dear Father—
"When you read these words I shall be far from home. I suppose I ought not to go, but I am tired of the country, and I want to win fame and fortune. I have a plan in view which I have considered for years. I won't tell you what it is now, for though strictly honorable, you might not approve it. I think I understand myself better than you do, though you are my father. I will let you hear from me soon. Your son,
Leslie Waters."
"Of course you don't know how this was received by your father?"
"I met a boy from Rahway this morning. He told me that father was mad, and said he washed his hands of me, that I was a fool, and would very soon find it out."
"Then you don't think he will pursue you?"
"No, he isn't that kind of a man."
"It will be rather awkward for you to go home."
"Yes. I wouldn't like to do that."
"Suppose you don't get a chance to go on the stage, would you be willing to take a business place?"
"Yes, I would rather do that than go home. Here I should be in the midst of life, and if I bided my time I might get a chance to go on the stage after all."
"That is true. Now I will tell you why I asked. One of the bell-boys here is going to leave. I might get the position for you."
"You are a bell-boy, are you not?"
"Yes."
"How much do you get?"
"Five dollars a week and my meals. I have to hire a room outside."
"And you say I can get a room for two dollars a week?"
"Yes. Perhaps for a dollar and a half."
"Then I could get along."
"You might not like the duties of a bell-boy."
"What are they?"
Rupert explained.
"How early should I get off at night?"
"At six o'clock. The bell-boy who is about to leave is on through the day like myself."
"That would suit me. I could go to the theatre in the evening."
"True."
"If I don't get a chance to act to-day I will take the place if you can get it for me. It will be much better than going back to Rahway. Besides, my father will think better of me if he hears that I have found a place where I can make my expenses."
"Does he know that you have had thoughts of becoming an actor?"
"No; I never told him, but my mother knows it."
"What does she say to it?"
"She thinks I am smart enough to succeed, but fears I might get into bad company."
"There is danger of that."
"Not for me. I don't care for drinking, and I belong to the temperance society."
"So do I."
"When a boy is ambitious to be great I don't think he is likely to get dissipated."
"Perhaps you are right. One thing I must say to you, Leslie. If you take the place of bell-boy you must try to give satisfaction."
"I will, for it will keep me in the city. In Rahway there is no chance of my rising in life."
Rupert foresaw that there was very little chance of his new friend getting a position in any theatre, and he spoke at once to the manager of the hotel about giving a place as bell-boy to Leslie.
"Is he a friend of yours, Rupert?" asked the manager.
"Yes, sir."
"Have you known him long?"
"Not long enough to be sure that he will be satisfactory. Still you might be willing to take him on trial."
"I will try him for a week. If at the end of that time he suits me moderately well I will retain him."
"I will coach him a little and instruct him in his duties."
"That will help."
In the evening Leslie came home just before Rupert got through his day's work. He did not look as if he had succeeded. Still he was not as sober as the day before.
"Well?" said Rupert. "What luck?"
"I don't get a place. In some of the theatres they did not treat me respectfully, though one manager admitted that he went on the stage earlier than I did."
"Where was that?"
"In Brooklyn."
"Then I suppose you will be ready to accept the place of bell-boy?"
"Yes; but if a chance should come of my going on the stage I should want to resign it."
"You had better not say anything about that. Wait till the chance comes."
"I have one piece of good news," said Leslie, more cheerfully. "In two weeks a spectacular piece will be put on the stage at Niblo's, and they have promised me a place as supe."
"How much will you be paid?"
"Only twenty-five cents a night, but it will be a beginning. I shall have a place behind the footlights. More than one actor has made his start in that way."
"I am glad for you. I will go and see you when you make your first appearance."
Both Julian Lorimer and his father felt mortified at the failure of their attempt to humiliate Mr. Benton. They had supposed he had neither friends nor influence and were very much surprised at his securing another position elsewhere at an advanced salary. They tried to find out where he was now employed, but without success. Julian inquired of Rupert one day when he met him, but the bell-boy refused to tell.
"Oh, it's a secret, is it?" sneered Julian.
"Yes, to you," answered Rupert. "Why did you wish to know?"
Rupert was confident that Julian meant mischief, and in the interest of Mr. Benton he declined to give him any information.
Of course this made Julian all the more anxious to gain his point. He got in the wayof visiting every dry-goods store, and scanning the clerks and salesmen. But there are a good many such stores in New York, and it was some time before he made any discovery.
One day, however, he strayed into Grand Street, and entered a large store in quest of some cheap neckties which he saw exposed outside. Julian was rather a dude, and these ties had attracted his notice.
As he was passing through the store without any special thought of his father's old clerk, he chanced to pass by the counter where dress goods were sold. His face lighted up with malicious joy when he saw Benton measuring off a dress pattern for a lady. He stopped until the salesman was at leisure. Then, stepping up to the counter, he said, "Good morning, Mr. Benton."
Benton certainly was not pleased to see his old persecutor. Perhaps his countenance expressed his feelings as he answered, "Good morning, Julian."
"So it is here you are employed?"
"Yes, as you see."
"Did you come here directly from pa's store?"
"Yes. How did you find out that I was here?"
"I didn't find out till just now."
"Can I do anything for you? Do you wish to buy anything in my line?"
"No. I came in for some neckties. Do you ever see anything of Rupert Rollins?"
"Yes, he has a room at my house."
"Oho, I didn't know that. That accounts for his interest in you."
"I am glad he has an interest in me. He is a very good friend of mine."
"A poor boy like him isn't much of a friend. He can't do much for you."
"He got me this position."
"Did he?" said Julian, in some surprise.
"Yes."
Benton might have told Julian that Rupert owned two valuable lots in Harlem, but he thought it more proper that Rupert himself should make it known whenever he saw fit.
"Well, so long. I may see you again before long."
"I am not in the least desirous of it," thought Benton, but he answered civilly.
"Well, pa," said Julian, at dinner, "I saw your old clerk, Benton, to-day."
"Did you, indeed," said Mr. Lorimer, interested. "Is he out of work?"
"No; he's employed in a Grand Street store."
"Did you speak to him?"
"Yes."
"How did he appear?"
"He was better dressed than when he worked for you."
"I mean was he cordial?"
"Not very. I don't think he was very glad to see me. Good reason why."
"I wonder whether he is well paid?"
"I didn't ask him, for I knew he wouldn't tell me if I did. I have no doubt he gets a good deal more than what you paid him."
"They must have taken him without a recommendation," mused Lorimer.
"You wouldn't give him a recommendation, would you?"
"No, I should have to say that he was insubordinate and gave me trouble."
Julian Lorimer could be depended upon to act meanly and maliciously, without any scruples of conscience. Two days later Mr. Benton was summoned to the superintendent's room.
"You wished to see me, sir?" he said.
"Yes. I wish to show you a letter which the firm has received."
Henry Benton took the proffered letter, and read with what feelings can be imagined the following communication:
"Gentlemen—"In visiting your store yesterday I saw a Mr. Benton behind the dress goods counter who used to work in our, that is, my father's store. I was surprised that you should employ him. He brought no recommendation from us, or if he presented one it was forged. My father found him unsatisfactory, and was quite glad to get rid of him. He is a poor man, and I don't want to injure him, but I thought it only right that I should tell you what my father thinks of him. He would not tell us where he was going, and it was only by chance that I found out.Yours truly,"Julian Lorimer."
"Gentlemen—
"In visiting your store yesterday I saw a Mr. Benton behind the dress goods counter who used to work in our, that is, my father's store. I was surprised that you should employ him. He brought no recommendation from us, or if he presented one it was forged. My father found him unsatisfactory, and was quite glad to get rid of him. He is a poor man, and I don't want to injure him, but I thought it only right that I should tell you what my father thinks of him. He would not tell us where he was going, and it was only by chance that I found out.
Yours truly,"Julian Lorimer."
"Well, Mr. Wilson, I have read the letter,"said Benton. "Is there anything you would like to ask me in reference to it?"
"Is the writer correct in his statements?"
"So far from it that his father asked me to stay longer, and offered me an additional dollar a week."
"Did you have any trouble when in Mr. Lorimer's store?"
"Yes; this boy Julian, who has nothing to do with the business, interfered with my work and was very insolent. I rebuked him and he succeeded in getting his father to discharge me. Afterward his father revoked the dismissal and wished me to stay. But I had already a situation offered me here, and I declined. I hope this letter will not prejudice you against me."
"By no means. Even without your explanation I understood pretty well the character of the writer of the note."
"Shall you answer it?"
"Yes; I have a curiosity to see the boy."
Julian Lorimer smiled with satisfaction when he received a letter inviting him to call at the Grand Street store.
"Things are working as I desired," he said to himself. "I think, Mr. Benton, your career will be brief, and you will soon be looking for another position."
He entered the store about ten o'clock, and took good care to walk by the counter behind which Mr. Benton was employed. The latter saw him, but after his interview with the superintendent he did not feel anxious.
"I am Julian Lorimer," announced Julian, as he entered the presence of the superintendent.
"You wrote us a letter, I believe?"
"Yes, sir."
"In relation to a clerk in our employ?"
"Yes. Mr. Benton."
"He used to work for your father?"
"Yes, sir. He was in father's employ rather more than a year."
"He stayed some time, then?"
"Yes; father didn't want to discharge him as he had a family."
"Very considerate on your father's part, certainly," said Mr. Wilson, in a peculiar tone, in which Julian did not detect the sarcasm.
"On the whole, your father did not find him satisfactory? What was the matter? Isn't he a good salesman?"
"Pretty fair," answered Julian. "Nothing alarming."
"Then what fault did he find with him? I suppose he was honest?"
"Yes, so far as we know."
"And still your father found him unsatisfactory. There must have been some cause of complaint?"
"He was impudent," said Julian. "He felt too large for his position."
"Was he impudent to your father?"
"No."
"To whom, then?"
"To me."
"Oh, to you. Were you employed in the store?"
"No, sir."
"Then I don't see how you could have come in contact with him."
"I used to go into the store sometimes. That was very natural, as it was my father's store."
"And on one of these occasions he was impudent to you?"
"Yes, sir."
"This is a serious charge. What would you advise me to do? Do you think I ought to discharge him?"
"I will only say this, that my father would not have him in the store."
"You said in your letter that you did not wish to injure him. If he should be discharged that would certainly be an injury."
"Yes, sir, I suppose so," answered Julian, with hesitation.
He was puzzled and could not understand what Mr. Wilson was driving at.
"I will send for Mr. Benton."
When Benton came into the presence of the superintendent, Mr. Wilson said,
"Mr. Benton, this boy, Mr. Julian Lorimer, has been bringing charges against you."
"I am not surprised to hear it, sir."
"He says you did not treat him respectfully when you were in his father's store; that, in short, you were impudent to him."
"There is some truth in my not treatinghim respectfully. He came up to my counter and interfered with my work."
"You were aware that he was Mr. Lorimer's son?"
"Oh, yes, sir."
"And yet you rebuked or snubbed him?"
"Yes, sir."
"He thinks that a serious matter. He thinks I ought to discharge you. My own feeling is that you treated him just right."
Julian looked paralyzed.
"And to make up to you for his malicious attempt to injure you, I will raise your salary two dollars a week."
"Thank you, sir."
"As for you, young man, I don't wish to see you in the store again. James, you may show Mr. Lorimer out."
Julian lost no time in getting out of the place. He had never felt so humiliated before. It would be hard to describe his blended rage and mortification. It was certainly aggravating to reflect that he had only succeeded in raising Mr. Benton's salary.
Leslie Waters obtained the situation of bell-boy through Rupert's recommendation, and entered upon his duties at once. He had failed in his ambition to become an actor. With his elevated ideas of the position of a member of the profession, he did not immediately become reconciled to figuring as a bell-boy, but it enabled him to live in the great city, which became daily more and more attractive to him.
Rupert engaged for him a small hall bedroom in the same house in which he was himself living. The price agreed upon was only a dollar and a half weekly, which, with his salary, he could pay without inconvenience.
Rupert was afraid that Leslie would prove too flighty and impracticable for his humble duties, but was agreeably disappointed. Accustomed to work on a farm in a quiet countrytown, Leslie found hotel life very attractive, and labored zealously to give satisfaction. The day after he went to work he wrote to his father in Rahway as follows:
"Dear Father—"I hope you are not angry at my leaving home so suddenly. I had got tired of country life, and felt that I was destined to a career in the city. I was not sure what employment awaited me, but hoped in some way to make a living. I have succeeded—I have secured a position in the Somerset Hotel, on Broadway. I take my meals at the hotel, and am paid a salary of five dollars per week besides. I have to pay a dollar and a half for a room, and the balance of my pay will defray the rest of my expenses."I owe my success to a very friendly boy, not quite as old as I am, who is employed in the hotel. My hours are from six to six, so that I have my evenings to myself. I think you will agree that I am doing better and earning more than I ever did in Rahway. Of course I hope to be promoted, perhaps to go into some more congenial business when I get better acquainted in the city. If you should come to the city at any time I shall be glad to have you call at the hotel."Your son,"Leslie Waters."
"Dear Father—
"I hope you are not angry at my leaving home so suddenly. I had got tired of country life, and felt that I was destined to a career in the city. I was not sure what employment awaited me, but hoped in some way to make a living. I have succeeded—I have secured a position in the Somerset Hotel, on Broadway. I take my meals at the hotel, and am paid a salary of five dollars per week besides. I have to pay a dollar and a half for a room, and the balance of my pay will defray the rest of my expenses.
"I owe my success to a very friendly boy, not quite as old as I am, who is employed in the hotel. My hours are from six to six, so that I have my evenings to myself. I think you will agree that I am doing better and earning more than I ever did in Rahway. Of course I hope to be promoted, perhaps to go into some more congenial business when I get better acquainted in the city. If you should come to the city at any time I shall be glad to have you call at the hotel.
"Your son,"Leslie Waters."
In reply, Leslie received the following letter, written in a cramped hand, indicating that the writer was not accustomed to epistolary composition:
"Son Leslie—"I have received your letter, and am glad to learn that you are not quite so foolish as I supposed. I was afraid you had the foolish notion of becoming a play actor. I never knew one in that profession who was a solid, sensible man. To my mind it is a very poor business. It is all very well for boys to speak pieces at school exhibitions, but when they start in to speak pieces for a livelihood it is very foolish. I surmised from some things I had observed in you that you had such a notion in your head, but I am glad I was mistaken."The hotel business is a good business, I am told. You don't tell me what your duties are, but you seem to be earning pretty good pay. I hope you will give satisfaction. You never earned even three dollars a week at farming, so that perhaps it may be well for you to stay where you are really earning a good income. Some time you may be qualified to keep a hotel yourself. Your mother's cousin keeps a hotel somewhere in Kansas, and I hear that he is making money. You did wrong to leave home without permission, but I will not find fault with you under the circumstances. When I go to New York I willcall in and see how you are getting along. Your mother will make up a bundle of clothing and send you by express."Your father,"Jethro Waters."
"Son Leslie—
"I have received your letter, and am glad to learn that you are not quite so foolish as I supposed. I was afraid you had the foolish notion of becoming a play actor. I never knew one in that profession who was a solid, sensible man. To my mind it is a very poor business. It is all very well for boys to speak pieces at school exhibitions, but when they start in to speak pieces for a livelihood it is very foolish. I surmised from some things I had observed in you that you had such a notion in your head, but I am glad I was mistaken.
"The hotel business is a good business, I am told. You don't tell me what your duties are, but you seem to be earning pretty good pay. I hope you will give satisfaction. You never earned even three dollars a week at farming, so that perhaps it may be well for you to stay where you are really earning a good income. Some time you may be qualified to keep a hotel yourself. Your mother's cousin keeps a hotel somewhere in Kansas, and I hear that he is making money. You did wrong to leave home without permission, but I will not find fault with you under the circumstances. When I go to New York I willcall in and see how you are getting along. Your mother will make up a bundle of clothing and send you by express.
"Your father,"Jethro Waters."
Leslie showed this letter to Rupert.
"Your father doesn't suspect that you came to the city intending to go on the stage?" he said.
"No, he thinks I have given up my ambition to become an actor. He has no idea what a glorious profession it is. I don't suppose he ever went to the theatre in his life. I wish he could see Edwin Booth, or Irving, or Joseph Jefferson. Yet I suppose he would rather have me keep a hotel than become as great as either of these."
"It takes a smart man to keep a hotel, Leslie. Very likely Booth or Irving wouldn't succeed in that line."
"I hope some time I may get a chance on the stage. Will you go with me to-night to see Mansfield in 'Jekyll and Hyde'?"
"Yes; I have no other engagement."
That evening the two bell-boys had frontseats in the gallery of a Broadway theatre, and saw Mr. Mansfield in his remarkable impersonation of the two contrasted characters. Leslie was filled with admiration.
"Do you know, Rupert, I think I will learn to act those parts in time?"
"You might succeed in Jekyll, but it would be more difficult to play the part of Hyde."
"Perhaps so. Indeed, I know you are right. But it is a part which I should enjoy. I have a great mind to make a study of it."
"If I were you I would try something easier."
"It is the hard parts that are best worth acting," said Leslie, grandly.
Rupert thought little more of this conversation, but two evenings later, as he sat playing checkers with Harry Benton, there was a knock at the door of Mrs. Benton's apartment. On the door being opened, Mrs. Spenser appeared. She was the lady of whom Leslie hired his room. She seemed to be quite excited.
"Oh, Mr. Rollins," she exclaimed, addressing Rupert, "I wanted to see you. I am so frightened."
Rupert looked up in surprise.
"What is the matter, Mrs. Spenser?"
"Your friend, Mr. Waters, is making a terrible noise. Is he subject to fits?"
"Not that I ever heard."
"I don't dare to go in. He is acting like a wild man. I never heard anything to equal it. Do you know if any of his family were ever crazy?"
"I will go and see what is the matter. I don't think you need be alarmed."
"If he is really crazy," continued Mrs. Spenser, "I don't think I can keep him, though I need the money he pays for room rent."
Rupert abandoned his game, and, accompanied by the frightened woman, proceeded to the part of the house where Leslie lodged. As he stood outside in the hall he heard Leslie in a low, guttural voice rehearsing the part of Hyde. One who was not familiar with therôleor the play might be excused for being startled.
Rupert tried the door, and entered.
There was his associate bell-boy,half-crouching, and with his black hair carefully disordered, walking across the room, with his naturally pleasant face distorted by a grin as fiendish as he could make it.
"Look at him! He is certainly crazy!" ejaculated the terrified landlady. "He looks awful."
"What are you doing, Leslie?" asked Rupert.
Leslie looked up, and his face showed embarrassment when he saw his visitors.
"I am practicing the part of Hyde," he said.
"I thought so. You have frightened Mrs. Spenser, who thought you had a fit or were crazy."
Instead of being offended, Leslie took this as a tribute to his art.
"Yes," he said, "it is a frightful character. Did I really look dreadful?"
"Awful!" said Mrs. Spenser.
"That's the way Mansfield looked. Isn't it, Rupert?"
"Something like it, Leslie, but I shouldn't think you would like to imitate such a personation. Why don't you try Romeo?"
"Romeo is a silly character. He is only a sixteenth century dude."
"Then imitate Claude Melnotte, in the 'Lady of Lyons.'"
"I never saw it."
"In that character, instead of looking frightful, you would need to look handsome, romantic and attractive. If Mrs. Spenser should see you in that she wouldn't be frightened."
"Are you an actor, Mr. Waters?" asked the landlady, curiously.
"I hope to be some day," returned Leslie, much flattered.
"I am going to have some friends come in to see me Christmas evening. I should be very much obliged if you would do some acting for us, only not that Hyde," and she shuddered.
"I shall be pleased to do what I can, Mrs. Spenser," replied Leslie, graciously. "I will speak some pieces for you—some pieces that require acting. I have a recitation called 'The Tramp.'"
"I shall be very glad to have you. It willbe a great favor. Don't you act, too, Mr. Rollins?"
"No; I leave all that to my friend Leslie."
The landlady retired, leaving the two boys alone.
"What did you think of my acting, Rupert?" said Leslie.
"If I could see it again I think it would give me a nightmare."
"I consider that a compliment," said Leslie, complacently. "I shall never be satisfied, Rupert, till I go on the stage."
A year passed; not an eventful year, however, nor did it materially change the position of the principal characters introduced in our story. Rupert was still a bell-boy in the Somerset Hotel. He had been raised three dollars a week, however, and was now receiving a salary of eight dollars, besides his board.
His friend Leslie Waters was doing satisfactory service at six dollars. He had by no means lost his love for the stage. He economized on clothing in order to attend the theatre. It must be said that his taste was good, and that he preferred standard plays and good acting to the sensational pieces that too often eclipse in success the better class of dramas. He had joined the Violet Dramatic Club of young men, meeting weekly somewhere on West Fourteenth Street. The members of theclub laboriously rehearsed short plays, and offered their services gratuitously, or for a slight compensation, to charitable societies, and thus obtained some valuable training and a share of applause.
Of course Leslie Waters was always cast for a prominent part. Of all the members of the society he was the most ambitious, and the most willing to work. For a long time he tried to induce his fellow-members to essay a long play. He was particularly desirous of playing Claude Melnotte, in the "Lady of Lyons." The main difficulty, however, was in obtaining a young lady capable of playing Pauline. At length that difficulty was surmounted. A young lady of eighteen, from Brooklyn, the cousin of one of the members of the club, who, like Leslie, thought herself born for the stage, offered her services, and was adjudged competent, although rather disposed to overdo the part.
One day Leslie brought to his friend Rupert a circular to the following effect:
"The Violet Dramatic Club beg leave to inform their friends and the public generally that they will produce Bulwer's noted play,The Lady of Lyons,At Amaranth Hall, on First Avenue, on the evening of Thursday, May 6, with the distinguished actor, Leslie Waters, in the character of Claude Melnotte. Miss Ida Strassburger, an accomplished amateur from Brooklyn, will appear as Pauline."Tickets, 25 and 50 cents.""The proceeds will be given to the Society for the Relief of Indigent Laundresses."
"The Violet Dramatic Club beg leave to inform their friends and the public generally that they will produce Bulwer's noted play,
The Lady of Lyons,
At Amaranth Hall, on First Avenue, on the evening of Thursday, May 6, with the distinguished actor, Leslie Waters, in the character of Claude Melnotte. Miss Ida Strassburger, an accomplished amateur from Brooklyn, will appear as Pauline.
"Tickets, 25 and 50 cents."
"The proceeds will be given to the Society for the Relief of Indigent Laundresses."
"What do you think of that, Rupert?" asked Leslie, with a complacent smile.
"I congratulate you on your opportunity to make a hit. I am glad it is you, and not I, who is to play the part of Claude."
"Of course you would hardly be competent. If you would like some light part, like that of a servant, I think I might have got you into the cast."
"Thank you, Leslie, but I have no ambition in that direction. Who is the Pauline? Do you know her?"
"It is Ida Strassburger, of Brooklyn. She is a cousin of one of our members."
"How does she play?"
"Pretty well, but she has something of the Bowery style; that is, she rather overdoes her part. I have tried to tone her down."
"Does she look the part?"
"Well, no. I am sorry to say it, but she is rather short and fat. She is German, as you may guess from her name. Still I think she will do, if she will be guided by me. You see we can't afford to be too particular about a Pauline, for it is harder to get actresses than actors."
"Do you feel at all nervous about your first appearance in a star part?"
"Oh, no, I never was troubled with stage fright. I have considerable confidence in myself."
This was quite true. Had Leslie been requested to appear as Hamlet, he would have had no misgivings, but with sufficient time for preparation would have walked on the stage prepared to enact therôleof the melancholy Dane.
"I hope you will win the popular favor, and get your name before the public."
"I hope so. One of our members, who sometimes reports for theEvening News, has promised to write an account for that paper, and we hope to be noticed by theSunandWorld."
"Suppose your father reads the account? Does he take either of these papers?"
"I hope he will. In fact I shall make sure that he does, for I will send the papers to him marked, getting you to address the wrappers. While he would object to my going on the stage professionally, I don't think he will mind my appearing for the benefit of a charitable society."
"Do you know anything about the Society for the Relief of Indigent Laundresses?"
"No."
"Yet you are going to work very hard for them."
"Oh, I don't care anything for the society. I would be willing to work for any society, as long as I got a chance to appear in a prominent part."
"I am not sure," said Rupert, laughing, "but I would like to have your club give aperformance for the benefit of destitute bell-boys."
"I am quite ready, if any such society should be formed."
"I'll think about forming one, though I am glad to say I don't know of any destitute bell-boys at present."
Rupert bought several tickets, and invited the entire Benton family, including his young charge, to attend the performance.
Mrs. Spenser and her daughters received an invitation from Leslie Waters himself. The widow felt quite flattered.
"I am sure, Mr. Waters," she said, "I am proud to think a distinguished actor like you is a lodger of mine. It will seem so odd to see you on the stage. I don't see how you can do it."
"It comes natural to me, Mrs. Spenser," said Leslie, much flattered.
"And do you think you will ever go on the stage as a regular business, Mr. Waters?"
"I will if I have a good opportunity. To be a bell-boy does not satisfy my ambition."
"It is a good, steady business."
"Yes, but I feel that I was born for higher things. Anyone can be a bell-boy, but there are few who are qualified to become actors."
"I wonder your friend Mr. Rollins doesn't act."
"Well, you see, Rupert is a very good fellow, but I don't think he is gifted enough to become an actor, that is, a prominent actor. I offered to get him the part of a servant, but he didn't care to attempt it. Some time, Mrs. Spenser, when a child is needed in any of my plays, I may get the chance for your Sophie."
"Oh, Mr. Waters, how kind you are. Do you really think Sophie could act?"
"Yes, if I should train her. You know not very much is expected of a child."
"I should feel so proud to see my little girl on the stage. Did you ever see Elsie Leslie act?"
"Yes, she is very clever. I only wish she were old enough, and would consent to take the part of Pauline. She would be far better than Ida Strassburger."
"Is she pretty?"
"She is fair-looking, but she is too fat.However, she has a lover, a stout, young German, who, I understand, is jealous because on the stage I am to personate her lover. I presume he will be present. I will harrow him up by being a little extra affectionate."
"Now, Mr. Waters, you are really too bad. You ought to consider the feelings of the poor young man."
"His name is Otto Schaefer, and he is a butcher's assistant, I understand. I really hope he won't bring a butcher knife with him, for it might prove serious for me."
"Rupert," said Leslie in a mysterious tone, a few hours before the play, "I will tell you a secret if you won't breathe a word about it."
"Is it that you are engaged to the fair Pauline?"
"Oh, bother, no. Otto Schaefer may have her, if he wishes."
"What is it, then?"
"I have sent complimentary tickets to Palmer and Daly. Do you think they will come?"
"I imagine they are both very busy men, and cannot afford the time."
"I thought, if they should be impressed with my playing, one of them might offer me an engagement in his stock company."
"And you would like that?"
"Would I like it? It would make me supremely happy."
"Then you are not satisfied with the position of a bell-boy?"
"Certainly not. Are you?"
"For the present, yes."
"Should you be willing to be a bell-boy for the next twenty years?"
"No, I don't think I should, but I am still very young. I have just passed seventeen."
"And I am a year older. It is high time I entered upon my chosen vocation."
At length the eventful evening arrived. The hall was well filled, but the audience were from the neighborhood of First Avenue and Avenue A. Many of them were German or of German descent. The fact that Miss Strassburger, who was to play Pauline, was of Teutonic blood, doubtless accounted for this fact.
The play commenced and progressedsmoothly. The actors were well up in their parts. Ida Strassburger, to be sure, hardly looked aristocratic enough for Pauline, her figure being decidedly dumpy. She assumed a coquettish air, and from time to time glanced from the corner of her eye at a short, stout German young man who sat but a few feet from the stage.
It is needless to say that this was Otto Schaefer, her Brooklyn lover. He seemed restless and ill at ease, especially when there were any affectionate passages between Ida and Leslie. For instance, when Pauline has to say, "Sweet prince, tell me again of thy palace by the Lake of Como; it is so pleasant to hear of thy splendors since thou didst swear to me that they would be desolate without Pauline," Otto's lip curled with scorn, and he glared at the prince with a hostile eye.
Towards the end of the play, when Melnotte presents himself after a long absence, and Pauline, recognizing her husband, rushes into his arms, Otto could stand it no longer. He sprang from his seat, jumped on the stage, and called out in an excited tone to Leslie:"You quit that! That gal is my promised wife."
Instantly there was a chorus of exclamations, and half the audience rose to their feet in excitement.
Never, probably, in the many representations of "The Lady of Lyons" has there been a stranger tableau than was presented on the stage in Amaranth Hall on the evening when Leslie made hisdébutas a star.
Leslie stood in the centre of the stage, with his arm encircling the waist of the fair Ida, while Otto, short, stout, and decidedly Teutonic, stood a few feet to the left, shaking his fist at the two leading characters. It was enough to throw a veteran actor into confusion.
But Leslie was not wholly unprepared. Still encircling the fair Pauline's waist, he half turned and thundered in indignant words not to be found in Bulwer's play this stern defiance: "Caitiff, avaunt! This rock shall fly from its firm base as soon as I."
The melodramatic defiance caught the house. There was a chorus of shouts and laughter, and some small boys in the gallery called out, "Pitch into him, Claude!"
Otto, not being accustomed to standing on a stage facing a crowded audience, appeared somewhat abashed, but his indignation was still warm. He turned to the audience and said, in an explanatory tone, "He ain't got no right to hug my gal."
By this time Ida, too, was indignant. She felt that Otto was exposing both her and himself to ridicule, and she cried out, in a vexed tone, "You just sit down, Otto Schaefer, and don't make a fool of yourself, or I'll never speak to you again."
"Sit down! sit down!" resounded from all parts of the house.
Otto could not stand the clamor. With one last indignant glance at Leslie and his promised bride he descended from the stage and made his way to his seat in the orchestra.
When Leslie, resuming the business of the play, said, "Look up! look up, Pauline! for I can bear thine eyes. The stain is blottedfrom my name. I have redeemed mine honor," there was a shout of applause.
Then Leslie, perceiving his opportunity, interpolated a few words appropriate to the occasion. Pointing to the discomfited Otto, he said, "Heed not that vulgar groundling, who would step in between us and our happiness. Let him return in shame and failure to his butcher shop in Brooklyn, nor dare profane thy presence, sweet Pauline."
Otto felt that this was addressed to him, and he called out in a passion: "Don't you call me names, you New York dude!"
Here a policeman appeared, and hurried the unfortunate man from the hall, and the play proceeded to the close.
At the end Claude and Pauline were called before the curtain by the excited audience. The applause was terrific. Then there was a cry of "Speech! speech!"
Nothing could have suited Leslie better.
"My generous friends," he said, "this is the proudest moment of my life. I don't feel that I have merited your applause, but I accept it for the fair Pauline. If my poor efforts have pleased youI am more than satisfied. I did not anticipate the unpleasant interruption which marred our closing scene, but Miss Strassburger and myself were sustained by the thought that you were with us. Trusting to meet you again ere long, I bid you good-night."
"My generous friends," he said, "this is the proudest moment of my life. I don't feel that I have merited your applause, but I accept it for the fair Pauline. If my poor efforts have pleased youI am more than satisfied. I did not anticipate the unpleasant interruption which marred our closing scene, but Miss Strassburger and myself were sustained by the thought that you were with us. Trusting to meet you again ere long, I bid you good-night."
There was another chorus of cheers. Leslie led Ida out at the wings, and the audience left the hall.
"What did you think of it, Rupert?" asked Leslie proudly, as he joined his fellow bell-boy in the street.
"I give you credit for getting out of a tight place so neatly."
"I was too much for the butcher boy, eh, Rupert?"
"You certainly were," said Rupert, laughing. "I hope Ida will forgive him."
"I think she will after a while, as long as he didn't spoil the play. The audience were very enthusiastic."
"Yes, more so probably on account of Otto's ill-timed interruption."
"So I think. It was a splendid ovation. Oh, Rupert, it was delicious. It was, as I said,the proudest moment of my life. I wonder if there will he anything in the papers about it."
"I think it quite likely."
"You didn't see anything of Daly or Palmer in the hall, did you?"
"I don't know the gentlemen by sight."
"I wish they had been there. I think they would have appreciated my triumph over the young butcher from Brooklyn."
"Perhaps they would," said Rupert, dubiously.
The next evening Leslie read the following notice in theEvening News:
"Last evening Bulwer's play, 'The Lady of Lyons' was produced by the Violet Dramatic Company at Amaranth Hall, on First Avenue. The performance was smooth and creditable to the young players. Mr. Leslie Waters as Claude Melnotte, was earnest and effective, while Miss Ida Strassburger made an acceptable Pauline. Towards the close of the play an excitable young German, who was probably under the influence of beer, left his seat, and, jumping on the stage, interrupted the performance. He appeared to be jealous of Melnotte's attentions to Pauline. Mr. Waters showed remarkable composure in a trying situation, and interpolated arebuke to the officious intruder. The audience sustained him, and he and Miss Strassburger were called before the curtain with terrific applause. We shall doubtless hear from Mr. Waters again."
"Last evening Bulwer's play, 'The Lady of Lyons' was produced by the Violet Dramatic Company at Amaranth Hall, on First Avenue. The performance was smooth and creditable to the young players. Mr. Leslie Waters as Claude Melnotte, was earnest and effective, while Miss Ida Strassburger made an acceptable Pauline. Towards the close of the play an excitable young German, who was probably under the influence of beer, left his seat, and, jumping on the stage, interrupted the performance. He appeared to be jealous of Melnotte's attentions to Pauline. Mr. Waters showed remarkable composure in a trying situation, and interpolated arebuke to the officious intruder. The audience sustained him, and he and Miss Strassburger were called before the curtain with terrific applause. We shall doubtless hear from Mr. Waters again."
"That is very complimentary, Leslie," said Rupert. "I hope it won't unfit you for your duties as bell-boy."
"No, but it will make me impatient to close them for good and all, and embrace the glorious profession of Booth and Irving."
One morning a tailor's boy entered the Somerset Hotel with a bundle which he carried to the clerk.
"It is an overcoat for Mr. Silas Drayton," he said.
"Very well," said the clerk. "You can leave it, and we will send it to his room."
Upon this the boy left the hotel.
A young man of twenty-five or thereabouts, who was sitting near by, listened attentively to what passed between the boy and the clerk.
The latter summoned Rupert, and said: "Here is the key of 58. You may take up this coat and leave it in the room. It belongs to Mr. Drayton."
"All right, sir."
Rupert started with the bundle, and theyoung man started for the elevator, and got into it just as it was about to ascend.
"I want to go up to No. 58," he said.
"Very well."
When they reached the third floor the elevator boy halted.
"You will find No. 58 on this floor," he said.
"Thank you."
The young man found the room, and was standing in front of it when Rupert made his appearance.
"Is that my uncle's coat?" he asked.
"It is Mr. Drayton's coat."
"Exactly. Mr. Drayton is my uncle. You may give it to me, and I will take it in. Have you the key?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you may give it to me; I came up without one."
He spoke with such assurance that Rupert, accustomed as he was to impostors, was quite taken in. He handed the package and the key to the young man, who at once opened the door and went into the room.
When Rupert had got half-way down stairs he began to wonder if he had not made a mistake.
He did not feel at all sure that the young man to whom he had handed the bundle had any right to claim it. As it might prove to be a serious mistake he went to the clerk and inquired, "Has Mr. Drayton got a nephew stopping here?"
"No. Why do you ask?"
"I am afraid I have made a blunder. At the door of No. 58 I met a young man who told me he was Mr. Drayton's nephew, and asked me to hand him the bundle."
"Did he come down stairs?"
"No, he went into the room."
"I didn't think you could be so easily imposed upon, Rupert. The man is undoubtedly an adventurer. Describe him."
Rupert did so.
"He had been sitting in the office for half an hour. He must have seen the tailor's boy bring in the bundle."
"He is upstairs yet. Can't we get back the coat?"
"You will know him when you see him again?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then take your position by the elevator, and if you see him come down, signal to the detective whom I will also station there. He will take care of him."
Ten minutes later the elevator reached the office floor. Among those who stepped out was the young man, wearing an overcoat considerably too large for him. It was clear that he had put it on in No. 58, and was now about to wear it out of the hotel.
He stepped out of the elevator, and with a slight glance about him made briskly for the door. But he had taken only two steps when Rupert caught him by the arm.
"I want to see you a minute," he said.
"I am in a hurry. I have an appointment. I will see you on my return."
But the detective had now stepped forward.
"You will have to stop now," he said, firmly.
"I don't understand you. By what right do you detain me?"
"Where did you get that overcoat you have on?"
"It is my own. Hasn't a man a right to wear an overcoat?"
"Yes, if it belongs to him. This seems too large for you."
"True," said the young man, "it belongs to my uncle, Mr. Drayton."
"Indeed. Then how do you happen to be wearing it?"
"I have borrowed it for the day. Really this is very annoying."
"What is your name?"
"Charles Drayton," answered the young man, with some hesitation.
"You will have to take off the coat and accompany me to the police station."
"This is an outrage!" exclaimed the young man. "My uncle will be very angry."
"If he identifies you, and assures us that it was by his authority you borrowed the coat, we will apologize."
"But that won't make up to me for your unwarrantable interference. Take the coat and let me go."
In spite of his protestations, however, Mr. Charles Drayton, as he called himself, was escorted to the nearest police station and held for examination. He was tried, and would have been sentenced to a term of imprisonment, Mr. Silas Drayton disclaiming all relationship, had not the old gentleman taken pity on him and declined to prosecute.
It appeared at the trial that the young man was well known to the police as Sidney Marvin, an expert thief, born in London, but for three years a resident of the United States. Mr. Drayton was blamed for allowing him to escape punishment, but he was a soft-hearted man, and disposed to give the young man another chance.