refuses to listen to any complaints from the players, and drags chairs on to the stage; the tailor carries off a costume to his workshop; the stage-manager gives the last signal in the dressing-rooms; the firemen are in their proper places; bells ring in the corridors; a stormy row breaks out at the last moment between the property man and the up-holsterer; and three minutes after seven o’clock (the play begins at seven) the last piece of stage furniture finally arrives on the stage.
Meanwhile, you, Mr. First Nighter, are sitting in your stall, looking at your watch, and saying: “It’s high time they began the show.” If, at this moment, you were to place your ear against the curtain, you would hear the sound of hammering and the sound of breathless voices:
“Where shall I put it?”
“Not there, you ox.”
“That must be screwed on.”
“There’s a bracket wanted here.”
“What d’you want here?”
105
