CHAPTER XITHE AMUSEMENT COMPANY
The next few days were very busy ones for the Little Citizens, but the comfort and peace about camp was remarked by everyone, especially Uncle Ben.
“I declare, I never dreamed flies and mosquitoes could make folks so miserable and irritable with each other!” said he.
“Now that those two pests are diminishing, I wish to mention another cause of impatience and concern in camp. The boys and girls past the age of eight or nine, who are not actively engaged with the Police, Firemen, or other departments established at Happy Hills, really need something to occupy their thoughts and time. In the city they have so many ways of working or entertaining themselves—often detrimental, too, that time begins to hang heavily on their hands now that the novelty of country-life is wearing off,” explained Miss Martin.
“But I don’t know of anything more we can do to keep them busy,” replied Uncle Ben, with an anxious frown.
“I have an idea and it may work out to the benefit and amusement of everyone.”
“I’ll be glad to try anything you say,” returned Uncle Ben, encouragingly.
“Let us start ‘An Amusement Company.’ Elect managers of the different departments and ‘stars’ and ‘supers’ and have the Band furnish music. If you think well of my idea we may even go so far as to reward the actors and musicians who entertain us best. Let it be known that this company is formed more as a means of starting various contests for music, oratory, and acting, and is open for all entries, young, aged, small or large citizens.”
“Humph! Who is there to teach them such things?”
“I do not believe the street children of a large city need much teaching in entertaining. They are so precocious and experienced from their life in general, that they only need suggestions to boost their ideas,” laughed Miss Martin.
“Well, it will cost us nothing to try out youridea anyway, and no harm will be done if it fails to inspire your performers as you think it will.”
“And I know just what you think, Mr. Talmage! You are secretly laughing at the failure you are sure will follow this endeavor,” retorted Miss Martin.
“I really hope you will not be disappointed in your high appraisal of these city children’s brilliant possibilities,” returned Uncle Ben.
“We’ll see! If you will find some sort of a ‘drop-curtain’ even if it does not drop—we can draw it on rings slipped over a pole; and a raised stage, it will be all I shall ask of you. The stage can be a bare platform raised about two feet above the Refectory floor. It can be built on a rough framework, and take little time or cost to construct.”
“I will get some of the older boys to help me build it, and the Bobolink Boys will revel in sawing and hammering, I know.”
“Well then, you announce the new society to Little Citizens and have all who wish to enter the contests register with me during the nextthree days, and I will examine each one to find what each one is capable of doing.”
Uncle Ben smiled indulgently at what he believed to be Miss Martin’s mistaken judgment, and agreed to call the Little Citizens together that evening to tell them of the plan for their amusement.
The plan for starting an amusement company met with great approval as was shown in various ways, and the next morning Miss Martin was sought by those who wished to join the new club. In fact some of the children appeared at her Nest before breakfast so as to be listed in parts they hoped to fill.
“Children, suppose you wait until I have had something to eat and then we will go into this work,” laughed Miss Martin.
“Well, don’t you let anyone take our place—remember we came first!” warned several voices.
“This Nest will be too small to hold you all so I suggest that we use a folding-table as a desk and find some secluded spot in the grove where we will be away from the confusion of camp work. If one has to be tried out in any line he can perform without feeling embarrassed byothers watching or hearing him,” said Miss Martin, to the group waiting anxiously for her.
“I’ll carry the folding-table over when you’re ready to go!” quickly offered Bill, who had an idea of what he would do in the new company.
“And I’ll take the chair!” added Joe.
“All right, boys; now let us have breakfast and do our camp chores—then we will be ready to begin our fun!”
Camp work was through sooner than ever that morning and before ten o’clock Miss Martin was seated before the impromptu desk in the quiet shady grove.
“Now, Molly Brown—you were so anxious to sign up this morning—what can you do to entertain an audience?” said Miss Martin, smiling at the ten-year-old girl.
“I kin ride bareback!” was the startling answer.
“Ride bareback—but what good will that do us in a show-house?” gasped Miss Martin.
“You’se don’t have to keep yersels to one show, does you? In Noo York der’s a theayter an’ a hippodrome, too!” was Molly’s quick reply.
This opened vast possibilities before MissMartin’s vision, and before she could collect herself to speak wisely, one of the boys said:
“I t’ink dat’s a good idee! Lots of us kin do stunts dat goes wid a hippodrome show what can’t be did on a stage in a regerler theayter.”
“Very well, then; Molly, will you sit down at my left hand side where I will place all the circus actors, and the stage performers can go to my right,” said Miss Martin, hastily postponing her other answer.
Molly sat down upon the grass with a satisfied manner—was she not going to be robed in tarletan and tinsel some day and leap gracefully from an Arabian horse’s back, then throw kisses at an admiring audience? That is how Molly pictured herself.
“Bill, what do you propose doing?” asked the investigator of the theatrical company.
“Well, I kin do lots of stunts, but best of all I kin blow my horn. I will like to stay in de band wedder you’se have it for the theayter or fer de circus.”
“All right, Bill, then I’ll enter you as cornetist. But you must practice and render a solo every now and then for a prize, you know?”
“Yes’m, I knows!”
Bill’s name was entered and he signed himself as a solo-cornetist in the company. As he was about to place the pen back on the table he had a brilliant idea.
“Miss Marting, why can’t I enter Crummie fer a show?”
“Ah yes, Miss Martin—Crummie is a swell show-dog! He does lots of tricks what oughter be known by a real circus man; he would get paid a lot of money fer ’em,” added several voices back of Bill.
“Really! How interesting! Of course we will enter Crummie with the other actors. He can’t sign for himself, but we will let Bill do it,” explained Miss Martin.
A chorus of laughter made her look about at the amused faces, and Bill placed his two fingers between his lips and gave a shrill whistle. Crummie had roamed away from the group at the desk in search of squirrels or chipmunks, but at that call he came bounding back to his master’s side.
“Say, Crummie, Miss Marting says ye can’t sign yer name! She t’inks yer a fool dog an’ it’s up t’ you t’ show her she’s mistaken,” laughedBill, delightedly, as he took up the pen he had laid aside and dipped it in the ink.
Miss Martin instantly suspected the act that was to be performed for her benefit; that it was generally known to the other children was evidenced by the way they laughed when she suggested that Bill sign for the dog.
Crummie stood upon his hind legs and placed his fore-paws carefully on the edge of the table. Then Bill pushed the sheet of paper over under his nose, and the dog took hold of the pen-handle with his teeth. By moving his head up and down and from side to side, he managed to scrawl a number of circles and lines, then he lifted his nose high in the air to take the pen-point from the paper and when he brought it down again he made a period very near the ending of his writing.
Everyone laughed and cried “Good doggie” and Miss Martin patted his head as she laughingly said: “Crummie is truly a wonder. He is our first performer for the public pleasure.”
“Dat’s nuttin, Miss Marting; Crummie kin do lots of stunts better’n dat!” bragged Bill.
It took some time to assure Crummie that heneed not show off any more of his tricks that time, as there was too much clerical work to accomplish to stop for him. But the dog resented the business-like tone of Miss Martin, and when she would have removed the pen from his teeth he wheeled about and ran off to the woods with it.
Bill gave hot pursuit but Crummie was fleet-footed, so everyone laughed at the trick the dog had turned on the company. After a time, Bill returned with the pen, but it showed signs of having been through sharp-pointed teeth before it was recovered.
“He was jus’ goin’ to dig a hole and bury it when I crept up behind and caught hol’ on his tail. Dat made him open his mouth, y’ know, and the pen dropped out,” laughed Bill.
No further unexpected interruptions took place, so Miss Martin proceeded with the programme of actors.
“What is your specialty, Jim?” to a freckle-faced lad of eleven.
“Me fadder was a champeen clog-dancer in Dublin, an’ he teached me de dance afore hedied. I kin clog to beat de band!” said Jimmy, eagerly.
“Oh fine! Will you show us a sample of it, some time?” replied Miss Martin as she wrote down Jim’s accomplishment.
“Shure, but not on de grass, ye know, Miss Marting! It needs wood floors and wood clogs.”
“Yes, and we will have you dance on the Refectory floor soon.”
From Jim she went to one of the girls, who appeared impatient to tell of her talents.
“Well, Jenny, your turn next.”
“Miss Martin, I kin take off anyone you wants me to! I does it for fun at home an’ teacher says I’m the funniest girl she ever saw!”
“Jenny, suppose you impersonate Dinah, the cook?” said Miss Martin.
Dinah was a true southerner and spoke with all the old-time darkey accent. Jenny beamed at the simple trial given her, and cleared her throat to begin.
“Oh yo’ Jenny! Come yeah, Ah say, chile! Doan yo’ heah yo’ Mammy callin’ yo? Heah I’se waitin’ fo’ to carry yo’ ober Jordan an’ yo’ don’ heah me, nohow!”
Jenny’s manner and voice, to say nothing of the expression on her face, was so exactly the counterpart of Dinah’s that everyone screamed with enjoyment.
“Jenny, that is very clever! Can you imitate my ways as well?” laughed Miss Martin, after the fun had subsided.
“Oh you’se is easy to do, but don’che git mad at me?” pleaded Jenny.
“Of course not, child. It is all done in a spirit of fun.”
Then Jenny mimicked Miss Martin to such perfection that Uncle Ben, who had quietly approached the group, clapped his hands and laughed.
Examination went on merrily after Uncle Ben’s appearance, and many talents were discovered in the number of Little Citizens who applied that morning. And so diversified were the abilities signed up for, that Miss Martin felt sure of succeeding not only with a theater company but with a circus troupe as well.
“I have discovered an embryo Buffalo Bill among the boys, and he will have charge of thelassoing and broncho busting,” said Miss Martin looking at her lists.
“And Molly rides bareback. Several boys are pugilists and target shooters. With practice they will be able to take the part of Indians in fighting and shooting, then we can have the old scene of Buffalo Bill’s stage-coach hold-up in the West.
“A dozen boys wish to form a string orchestra, and half of the boys here are already interested in the Brass Band. With all the other talent I have discovered, I should say we might give an excellent circus—lacking only the wild animals and freaks.”
“If I agree to supply the freaks and wild animals will you promise to produce a good circus troupe for a show?” asked Uncle Ben, seriously, yet his eyes twinkled humorously.
Miss Martin looked steadfastly at him for a few moments before she said: “Are you serious?”
“Certainly I am. Don’t you think the Little Citizens ought to give an entertainment to all the friends who have worked so hard to make this camp a success?”
“There is nothing they’d rather do, I’m sure,than to give a circus. It will be the natural outlet of much pent up energy,” laughed Miss Martin.
“Then let us have a circus, by all means. We’ll get Richards to make an announcement of it to all the people who are interested in this venture.”
So it was decided to experiment with the talent at camp, and see if there would be anything to work on in giving a huge circus to which all friends and acquaintances would be invited.