WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF PERCY.

Dunstan Times, Issue 2086, 16 July 1901, Page 6

WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF PERCY.

[By Wynn Coman.]

When I had finished reading Maude’s letter I laid it beside my plate and gazed reflectively at it. “ I’ll be with you in a few days, and will give you my answer then. Hope you will have a big house for me.—M.T.” Both sentences filled me with concern. As to the former, there was nothing to do but worry myself sick over whether she meant to accept me. I had been very fond of Maude Trent for years, though I had never realised bowmuch I cared for her until the season we were together, she as leading woman of the stock company for which I was the business manager.

That was eight months ago: now she was playing leads in a much larger company, and I had become the manager of the one big theatre in the thriving town of Drayton. This explains my- anxiety over the last sentence of her letter : “ Hope you’ll have a big house for me.”

I had done my best, but the seats had been on sale for two long days, and barely a handful of money had come in.

I thought over half a dozen schemes for awakening public interest as I walked down the street that morning to the theatre, but nothing seemed to be quite the thing. “How are seats going, Tom?” I asked of my partner, in the box office. “ Nothing doing,” replied Tom, briefly. “ Too bad,” I said, looking about the deserted lobby. “ ‘ Mrs Gilliflower ’is a rattling good show, and I’d give a. month’s receipts to have a bully big house on Wednesday.” “We’ll have to paper it, I guess,” suggested Tom, getting off the stool and coming out .of the tiny box. “ I want enthusiasm and interest,” I said:

“ you know that playing to a house full of paper is worse than playing to empty seats.”

“You can’t toll me anything about it,” replied Tom. “ Drayton is the worst show town in the West any way. Where are you going?” “ Over to the* ‘ Herald ’ Office for a minute, to work up a notice,” I said, starting off down the street.

The next morning, Sunday, I found Tom so absorbed in the morning paper that he didn’t see me as I took the seat opposite hi? at the breakfast table. “What are you reading?” I asked. “I wish you’d listen to this,” he replied;

“ it’s a personal in big type.” “‘Wanted, by a very well-to-do Englishman, past middle age, a wife, whose character must strongly resemble that of a widow in the play shortly to be seen in this city. Address Hon. P. Blount, Box 82.'

“That means Gilliflower, of course,” added Tom, excitedly. “Anything else about it?” I inquired. “ Hm-m, don’t' see anything,” said he, making a great fuss with the pages. “ Why, yes: look here. A half—no, three-quarters of a column on the theatrical stage about Blount’s personal.” “ No,” I exclaimed, unable to hide my amusement.

“Yes, here's'a fine description of the dashing Gilliflower, the advance stories, and ”

“ And a three-column picture of Maude Trent—one of her new ones,” I finished. “How do you know?” inquired Tom, looking at me suspiciously over the top of the paper. “ Because I wrote every word of that myself, and gave .them the photo." “ Not‘this stuff about Blount?”

“The same, even to the personal. It took me a good half-hour to get that into shape.”

“What on earth does it all mean?” inquired Tom, impatiently. “ This is my scheme to boom ‘ Gilliflower,’ and if we don’t have the town by the ears in no time £ miss my guess.” “ If the town doesn’t get us by the throat first for fooling them,” remarked my partner, sceptically. Tom met me with an “ I’ve-washed-my hands-of-it... look ” as I turned up on Monday morning. He,condescended, however, to hand me a note addressed to myself in the assistant postmaster's hand. I tore it open, and howled : “ Oh, listen ! Three hundred ! Whew I Tom, I’ll have to have a cart.” “You’d drive a man to drink,” began Tom, snatching the note from me. “Dear Jerry,—For Heaven’s sake, come over and get that fool’s mail.—F.W. P.S. — Must be over 300 letters.”

Two hours later I fell over a-wheelbarrow, and out of a dusty and just engaged room in the theatre building, where two giggling girls were opening letters and piling up photographs. . ... . Actually the population in and around Drayton seemed to be made up of monomaniacs who believed themselves to be Mrs Gilliflower's double, for by Monday night we had received three hundred and sixtyseven letters and one hundred and eightynine pictures. Tom Was' amused, but most unfeeling, for he disapproved highly of the whole proceeding : but as I dropped wearily into a cl air in cur little, office he handed me one of his best cigats. " ■ '

“How goes it?” “Tom,” I began, “I know more about the two principal products of the State of Minnesota than any geography ever built. The people are all widows and idiots.” “What did you expect?” asked Tom, wth a grin. “ Oh, I. thought there would be a few replies: bub I never dreamed that all the people for miles around would rise up and demand to be made the Hon. Mrs Percy. They must think he intends to settle m Utah, or populate the desert wastes of Sahara. I've had to put another girl at work.” “That makes three?”

"Yes. Won’t you help me frame some sort of a reply? I've got to do something with all these loving hearts.” “ Not much ! I don’t get myself into your bottomless pit.”

“ Oh, come now,” I began, despairingly; “ I’m swelling the box office receipts.” “ I don’t see it,” said my partner. “ Why, you may have your pick of seats any time for both nights. You’re mighty funny, but your idea brings in more requests for trousseau cheques than for seats. I reflected on his heartless common sense as I went up to the hastily opened office on the seventh floor.

He was right. But that should be fixed, and I began to chuckle as a gleam of light appeared across the waste of loving replies. A letter was sent to each fair correspondent. as if she was the only one thus favored; and by nightfall a large number of my masterpieces slid down the mail shoot. I thought it neat, too. It was this : “Dear Madam,—l liked the tone of your letter so much that I wish to see you. Will you- be present, if possible, on Wednesday night, to witness the presentation of the much admired ‘Mrs Gilliflower?’ I shall be alone in an upstairs box, and if you will wear a pink carnation our mutual recognition will follow.—Sincerely, Percival Blount.”

“ Oh, they’ll all come,” I explained to Tom at dinner. * “ You can bet a hat on that! Of course, some will sec through it; but thev will be the very ones who wouldn’t miss it on their lives, just to see the other women make fools of themselves.” -We’ll see,” said Tom.

Tuesday there were five hundred and seventeen letters, carefully covered with a strip of canvas in the wheelbarrow which one of the men trundled in; and Tuesday night 1 telegraphed to Maude Trout;- “ Circal advance sale: prepare to do your prettiest’’—for there wasn’t a scat left in the house. * Wednesday, my mail dropped down to ninety-three, which we didn't, answer: and I was tired but radiant as i slammed into lltc office, to be greeted with an enigmatical ;

“Well, where's your Hon. Percy?” from Tom. “My Hon. Percy ? * I began. 'My dear fellow, he doesn't belong to me; he is the exclusive property of nine hundred and

seventy-seven women. Only nine hundred and seventy-seven; that’s all.” “ What an ass you are,” said Tom. Do you think I’m going to be mobbed by a houseful of disappointed bride-elects? The advance sale proves that the women mean to do their part, and now you must do yours, and have the gentleman in his lonelyupstairs box.” That was too much. I started off for a stroll before dinner, wishing I had never planned such an idiotic performance as the whole thing seemed to tie. I had accomplished one thing, however—there would be a crowded house; and now if I could only get a Percy it would surely be an enthusiastic and excited one.

I looked at my watch; it was not yet live, and the Gilliflower company wore due at 5.30. I’d walk over to the station and meet Maude, though that bade fair to be even more disquieting than facing my other problem. I turned the next corner and came suddenly upon three people—a man and two women —standing in front of a shabby board-ing-house. As I passed, the man lifted his hat to the ladies and started down the street behind me.

I caught a glimpse of a thin, neatlydressed fellow, with scanty light hair and well-trimmed mutton chops. All of a sudden an idea popped into my head, and I slowed up to let him pass me, then hurried after him.

“ Would you like to sit in a box at the theatre to-night?” I asked abruptly. He looked at mo for a minute before replying, but his guileless blue eyes did not belie him, for he answered: “ Why, er—yes.”

“ It’s quite a common thing, you know, to fill the house in this way,” I said, heedless of our reputation. “Oh, I see. You don’t want a frost, eh?” and he laughed good-naturedly. “ What’s the play?” “ ‘ Mrs Giliiflower's Courtship.’ ” “ But I suppose I ought to have a dress suit,” he began—and the day was mine. He promised to meet me at the office at half-past seven, where the clothes would await him, and then we parted. My brief glance of Maude at tse station was not especially consoling. She seemed glad to see me—very glad—but waved me away immediately, saying she was far too nervous over her first appearance in Drayton to be bothered.

“So you put your art before me, do you?” I asked, gloomily. “ I'll settle all these questions—after the show,” she announced, and so I had to leave her.

Half-past seven came, and Tom poked his head in to ask for Percy. “Not here?” I replied. “He swore he'd come.”

“ I've sent for some carnations, and if. all goes well we can have Percy throw them to Miss Trent in the last act.”

“ You’re a genius,” I exclaimed. “No,” replied Tom; “I’m only a stage manager.”

Just then there was a tap at the door, and a slightly bewildered gentleman, all smiles, appeared. It was the “ Honorable Percy, gentleman.” Half an hour later I sat back, gazing with positive content on my immaculate Englishman.

If ever a man looked a part, this innocent fellow did, and he was as gleeful as a girl on the day of her debut. Tom showed him to his box, while 1 took a look about.

The crowded, excited house was positively fluttering with carnations; they were everywhere but on the ushers and the incandescents. *

The Hon. Percy was so absorbed in his novel importance that he did not seem to wonder at the smiles and nods or the cold stares that met his guileless, good-natured survey of the house. And as for Maude Trent, the storm of applause that greeted her at first astonished and then encouraged her into giving the best performance of the season. Tom and I stood at the back of the darkened house watching our two stars, for our innocent genius in the box really deserved to be classed with Mrs Gilliflower on this occasion.

When the time came for him to drop the flowers we grew pretty nervous, but Percy was excited, and so surpassed himself. The house was wildly enthusiastic as tee carnations fell at Mrs Gilliflower’s eet, end that lady contributed nobly to the cause by pressing them to her heart. I didn't wait to see more, but hurried Tom after the gentleman upstairs, while. 1 made my way through the crowd io the back of the stage. “What a splendid reception Maude got,” called Mrs Trent, as she saw me eentung towards them.

I did not reply, but looked anxiously at Maude, who stood near her mother. She raised her eyes from the huge bouquet, and sent me a glance that set my pulses bounding madly.” “Wait till I change my gown,” she said, handing me the flowers. “ I’ve heaps ot things I want to say to you, Jerry.” So I held the carnations and waited, with patience and supreme content.