The Christmas Pantomime

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17223, 14 December 1923, Page 21 (Supplement)

The Christmas Pantomime

2Qj (Written for the Christmas “ Star,”

si by

Miss L. A. SUNLEY).

Adolph Brim, one-time flown ami • median at Her Majesty’s Theatre, hivered and drew closer to the fire as he lodger next door banged lus door mi commenced with much vigour to nove the furniture about in a manner rhich foretold a noisy evening spent u “ working off the effects.’’ He was a small, spare man, his cleanhaven . hecks wrinkled like some, old pplo which has lain forgotten on the ihelf of a farmhouse storeroom, •trange i » think that tins was he whose lomeru- laughter had infected stalls • id pit alike with a joyous gaiety, and Irawu crowded house> whenever his lame figured on the bills. His faded >hie eyes strayed wistfully to the manc l piece where stood photographs of b'parted celebrities of the variety iage, and to a row of shrivelled chnnitagne corks which decorated the outer algo of the shelf. Good old, nights f hen those corks went popping tip to he ceiling! When the clear, sparkling vine lit up bright eyes and sharpened vits to rapier-like keenness- Good old lays, gone, never to return. On the

l j door hung the dress in which he had , I nightly conjured tip the gift of mirth i j from the packed theatre ; it was dust- * • laden now and sadly in need of the > i repairing needle. ' His white head sank r on his breast as he watched the glowt ing embers fall one by one through * I the bars. It was Christmas Eve. - | Down in the theatre some two hundred’ 1 yards distant, a, theatre redecorated * | and altered beyond recognition, the . | traditional Christmas pantomime was » • delighting the new generation. He s visualised the bright lights and gay 1 music, and the merry laughter raised * by the quips and jests of a new clown. 1 Ah well, times change, and wo with - them. . . . Tie stooped and put f more coal on the sinking lire. “ Old .• hones.” ho murmured to himself. “The cold gets into old bones. A distant r clock struck eleven. In the street be- ■; j low a woman began to sing a Christj | mas carol in a thin, reedy voice. I l His head sank further forward and he 1 slept. 1 i Peals of laughter and the sound of > * footsteps were heard in the passage

outside. 'Hie door opened, m tripped two 'Pierrots, with a pretty Columbine, ln r silvery dress standing stiffly out ! from her slender waist. A Harlequin, dashingly arrayed in a .suit of black satin slashed with scarlet, followed two laughing Pierrettes. , They joined hands and gathered round the old man. '* Wake up, Adolph Brun!” they cried. We have come to take you to the theatre. The people- afe calling for you! No Christmas pantomime is complete without you. Wake up! Wake up!” He sat, up blinking dazedly and they hustled linn into bis clown'-, dress, which appeared curiously revivified, and placed on his head the peaked and poinponuned cap which hung beside it. The smallest Pierrette placed in bis hand a string- of gaily coloured balloons which reflected the firelight gleams like tlu* jewels in Aladdin’s Cave. Strangely enough* his withered form seemed to expand to fit the ample folds of his old dress‘d the, spirit of carnival descended upon him. “Listen, my children!” he cried,- his voice ringing with new youthfulness. “ There are in that cupboard three, last bottles of the very Joy of Life/ Open them all and we shall drink to this night of nights!’” They drank, and the sparkling vintage sent new life coursing through his veins. “Como away,” cried Harlequin. “ Time passes and the people wait.” They took hands and hurried down the stairs. The strangeness of it all smote ‘Adolph Brun anew as he walked into his old dressing room. Nothing was changed, even his old dresser came forward to make up his face with the casualness of long custom. With heart beating wildly lie stepped on to the stage. The leader of the orchestra caught liis eye and the band crashed into the opening notes of the song with which lie had convulsed the audiences of so long ago. As the last rollicking strains died away the audience seemed to surge forward, wild cheers arose, flowers showered down on him from all directions. Never in the lieydey of his fame had he won such an ovation. He sang again, his voice rich and full ; the plaudits of hundreds followed him - into the wings, where he ran at last, with his string of coloured balloons. The chimes of many bells rose on the still air as Big Ben rang out the midnight hour, In the room at the foot of ,the stairs Mrs Bloggs, the landlady, was entertaining a friend. “ Good luck to you. Mrs Hinks,” she said, her rubicund'face beaming over a glass of frothing ale. “ ’ Appy days, ' murmured Mrs Hinks huskily from the depths of her glass. Mrs Bloggs set down her glass and smacked her lips appreciatively. “ Good stuff.” she said. “ Tell you what,” she went on, “.blest if I don't take a glass of -it up to the old gent upstairs. All alone he is. Christmas don’t mean much to the likes of him.” She seized a glass and a hall empty bottle and stumped wheezily up the rickety staircase. As her knock at the door was unanswered, she turned the handle softly and peered in. A street light illuminated the room dimly and disclosed the old man in his chair asleep. She. tiptoed to the top of the staircase and called to Airs Hinks in a sibilant whisper “ The old chap's asleep. Looking as pleased as

punch with liisself. too: come up and ] see.” Mrs Hinks pattered up the i stairs still grasping her half empty glass. She tiptoed in and peered at Adolph Brun, touched his wrinkled cheek with h<*r roughened band, then started back suddenly. “Asleep! ’E ain’t asleep.” she said shrilly. “ That ole man ain’t asleep ! i Outside in the street some belated carolers were packing up their instruments and moving off to a more lucrative neighbourhood. The last red ember on the hearth blackened slowly and fell with a dry little clatter to the fender.