"What I complain of," the professor began, speaking with
elaborate and impressive slowness, "is that my performance is
hurried over and that too long a time is taken up by Beatrice's
songs. The management remark upon the applause which her efforts
occasionally ensure, but, as I would point out to you, sir," he
continued, "a performance such as mine makes too deep an
impression for the audience to show their appreciation of it by
such vulgar methods as hand-clapping and whistling. You follow
me, I trust, Mr. Tavernake?"
Why, yes, of course," Tavernake admitted.
"I take a sincere and earnest interest in my work," the professor
declared, "and I feel that when it has to be scamped that my
daughter may sing a music-hall ditty, the result is, to say the
least of it, undignified. For some reason or other, I have been
unable to induce the management to see entirely with me, but my
point is that Beatrice should sing one song only, and that the
additional ten minutes should be occupied by me in either a
further exposition of my extraordinary powers as a hypnotist, or
in a little address to the audience upon the hidden sciences.
Now I appeal to you, Mr. Tavernake, as a young man of common
sense. What is your opinion?"
Tavernake, much too honest to be capable in a general way of
duplicity, was on the point of giving it, but he caught
Beatrice's imploring gaze. Her lips were moving. He hesitated.
"Of course," he began, slowly, "you have to try and put yourself
into the position of the major part of the audience, who are
exceedingly uneducated people.
Pages:
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326