I'm so excited, I
shan't sleep a wink to-night. I'm off to-morrow by the ten-fifteen. I've
wired to Hermanova to lunch with me."
If any of the rest of the family felt any excitement over the creation of
Cousin Teresa, they were signally successful in concealing the fact.
"Poor Lucas does take his silly little ideas seriously," said Colonel
Harrowcluff afterwards in the smoking-room.
"Yes," said his younger son, in a slightly less tolerant tone, "in a day
or two he'll come back and tell us that his sensational masterpiece is
above the heads of the public, and in about three weeks' time he'll be
wild with enthusiasm over a scheme to dramatise the poems of Herrick or
something equally promising."
And then an extraordinary thing befell. In defiance of all precedent
Lucas's glowing anticipations were justified and endorsed by the course
of events. If Cousin Teresa was above the heads of the public, the
public heroically adapted itself to her altitude. Introduced as an
experiment at a dull moment in a new _revue_, the success of the item was
unmistakable; the calls were so insistent and uproarious that even Lucas'
ample devisings of additional "business" scarcely sufficed to keep pace
with the demand. Packed houses on successive evenings confirmed the
verdict of the first night audience, stalls and boxes filled
significantly just before the turn came on, and emptied significantly
after the last _encore_ had been given. The manager tearfully
acknowledged that Cousin Teresa was It.
Pages:
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121