And please put a little more vim into your
work. I want that play to be a snappy one."
"Humph!" sneered Miss Dixon.
"If he wants more snap he ought to pay more money," whispered her
friend. "All he cares about now are those DeVere girls."
"Attention!" called the manager. "Get some good business into this,
now. Mr. Switzer, when you come in, after that scene where you apply
for work, and can't get it, you must throw yourself into your chair
despondently. Do it as though you had lost all hope. You know what I
mean."
"Vot you mean? Dot I should sit in it so?" and the German actor
plumped himself into the chair in question by approaching it so that
he could sit on it in astride, in reverse position, folding his arms
over the rounded back.
"No--no, not that way--not as if you were riding a horse!" cried the
manager. "Throw yourself into it with abandon, as the stage
directions call for."
"Let me show him," broke in the melancholy voice of Wellington Bunn.
Striding into the scene, which had been interrupted to enable this
bit of rehearsal to be gone through with, the old Shakespearean actor
approached the chair and cast himself into it as though he had lost
his last friend, and had no hope left on earth.
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