The stage was set for a morning-room, with a table in the centre, spread with breakfast for two; a chair at either side and, as it happened, a footstool by mine. His high silk hat and some papers, also, were upon the table. For some unexplainable cause the silk hat has always been recognized, both by auditor and actor, as a legitimate object of fun-making, so when I, absent-mindedly, dropped all my toast-crusts into that shining receptacle, the audience expressed its approval in laughter, and so started me on my downward way, for that was my own idea and not a rehearsed one. When my husband mournfully asked if "There was not even one hot biscuit to be had?" I deliberately tried each one with the back of my knuckles, and remarking, "Yes, here is just one," which was the correct line in the play, I took it myself, which was not in the play, and so went on till the scolding-match was reached.
In my first noisy speech I meant to stamp my foot, but by accident I brought it down upon the footstool. The people laughed, I saw a point--I lifted the other foot and stood upon the stool. By the twinkle in Mr. Setchell's eye, as well as by the laughter in front, I knew I was on the right track.
He roared--he lifted his arms above his head, and in my reply, as I raised my voice, I mounted from the stool to the seat of the chair. He seized his hat, and with the toast-crusts falling about his face and ears, jammed it on his head, while in my last speech, with my voice at its highest screech, I lifted my foot and firmly planted it upon the very breakfast-table.
It was enough--the storm broke from laughter to applause. Mr. Setchell had another speech--one of resigned acceptance of second place, but as the applause continued, he knew it would be an anti-climax, and he signalled the prompter to ring down the curtain.
But I--I knew he ought to speak. I was frightened, tears filled my eyes. "What is it?" I whispered, as I started to get down.
"Stand still," he sharply answered, then added: "It's you, you funny little idiot! you've made a hit--that's all!" and the curtain fell between us and the laughing crowd in front.
The prompter started for me instantly from his corner, exclaiming, in his anger: "Well, of all the cheeky devilment I ever heard or saw--" But Mr. Setchell had him by the arm in a second, crying: "Hold on, old man! I gave her leave--she had my permission! Oh, good Lord! did you see that ascent of stool, chair, and table? eh? ha! ha! ha!"