The Argosy, Vol. 61, No. 4 — page 65: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

WHEN THE reeled drunkenly through a purple sky. Huge fish instead of birds swam or flew through rainbow-colored clouds, and fhe rocks which masked the bottom of the ° drop heaved as the waves of the sea. The set trees, beneath which the chorus was grouped, swayed as though in a hur- ricane, and the shriek of the wind-ma- chine and the patter of the rain - box punctuated the music, though the skies were clear. ‘‘ Something the matter with the lights. Shall I throw them off?” asked Ridd. ‘The boys must have got the wrong mediums for the sciopticons.” ‘This is the only laugh they have had. Let them have it out,” said Adrian wearily. The day was lost. Nothing could save the play now. At least, he would not cut short the fun. The rain- machine stopped and the wind died down as the serenade ended, and Adrian touched Casson’s arm as he stood waiting to go on. “You might as well add to the riot,” he said in a dead tone. ‘ Guy the lines if you want to,” and Casson, whose list- lessness had killed the first act, went on with a joyous countenance. “ He won a laugh with his first speech, a quip about the Irish moon, and he laughed himself a moment later when a shriek from the wind- machine echoed the laughter of the audience. ‘That, in turn, won another laugh, and the actors took heart. Presently they were playing Adrian's lines, but giving to them the spirit that had been lacking. Gosford, dean of the critics and the terror of playwrights, stopped squirming in his uncomfortable chair, and once he laughed outright. Faulkner saw him, and went back on the stage to tell Adrian. “It’s bully,” he whispered. “I didn’t know you were going to work the scene this way. It’s natural that in ‘ Topsy Turvy’ the things should all go wrong.” “They did,” admitted Adrian. “It was more of a shock to me than it was a surprise to you. The only thing to do was to keep on kidding, and it seems to have won out.” Faulkner glanced sharply at Ridd. “TJ think I’m wise,’ he said quietly. ‘“‘ Mike. the barkeep over at Reilly’s, was MOON DANCED. 623 telling me that the boys were planning some trick on you because you did not give them beer money last night. He didn’t know what the game was.” ‘“T didn’t have beer money to give,” confessed Adrian. ‘‘I wanted a drink myself, and couldn’t spare the nickel.” ‘It’s champagne for yours after this,” cried Faulkner, ‘ Lipsky dropped in to see me, and he wants it for the Audi- torium. Better close with him. He'll give you the big end, for he wants it bad.” “He can have it,’ promised Adrian with a happy laugh. ‘“ We’ll keep this stuff in and call a rehearsal in the morn- ing. I'll move the serenade down a bit to get it away from the laugh, and I think the piece will do.” Faulkner nodded his approval and dis- ‘appeared for a time, but he was on the stage again when the curtain fell. “Hold your men, Briggs,” he com- manded to the boss carpenter as the crew cleared the stage for the night. Jim turned to meet Myra, all smiles and tears. “It’s a hit, Jim,’’ she cried with a laugh and a sob. “ All of the boys told me they liked it, and Mr. Gosford says that last act is an inspiration. , You never told me you were going to do it that way. When did you change your mind?” Jim motioned for silence, and a look of comprehension came as she listened to Faulkner’s crisp tones. . “You fellows ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” he was saying sharply. “You should be kicked out of the theater and out of the union you have dis- graced. Because Mr. Adrian was too busy with more important: matters to re- member your beer money you set out to kill his play. It’s not your fault you did not succeed. ““T’m ashamed of you, and you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Mr. Adrian feels differently about it, though, and he authorizes me to announce that you'll each find an extra twenty-five dollars in your envelopes this week. Here’s twenty dollars for immediate use, but remember that there’s a full scene rehearsal to- morrow at ten-thirty. “You fellows are going to sweat all summer,” he added with grim humor. Ghoo (©