Demons, guiltless of hoof or
horn, clutched their victims with the inevitable "Ha! ha!" and
vanished darkly, eating pea-nuts. The ubiquitous Mr. Sharp seemed to
pervade the whole theatre; for his voice came shrilly from above or
spectrally from below, and his active little figure darted to and
fro like a critical will-o-the-wisp.
The grand march and chorus in the closing scene were easily
accomplished; for, as Lucy bade her, Christie "sung with all her
might," and kept step as she led her band with the dignity of a
Boadicea. No one spoke to her; few observed her; all were intent on
their own affairs; and when the final shriek and bang died away
without lifting the roof by its din, she could hardly believe that
the dreaded first rehearsal was safely over.
A visit to the wardrobe-room to see her dress came next; and here
Christie had a slight skirmish with the mistress of that department
relative to the length of her classical garments. As studies from
the nude had not yet become one of the amusements of the elite of
Little Babel, Christie was not required to appear in the severe
simplicity of a costume consisting of a necklace, sandals, and a bit
of gold fringe about the waist, but was allowed an extra inch or two
on her tunic, and departed, much comforted by the assurance that her
dress would not be "a shock to modesty," as Lucy expressed it.
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