Rupert's Ambition

"Dear Father—

"I hope you are not angry at my leaving home so suddenly. I had got tired of country life, and felt that I was destined to a career in the city. I was not sure what employment awaited me, but hoped in some way to make a living. I have succeeded—I have secured a position in the Somerset Hotel, on Broadway. I take my meals at the hotel, and am paid a salary of five dollars per week besides. I have to pay a dollar and a half for a room, and the balance of my pay will defray the rest of my expenses.

"I owe my success to a very friendly boy, not quite as old as I am, who is employed in the hotel. My hours are from six to six, so that I have my evenings to myself. I think you will agree that I am doing better and earning more than I ever did in Rahway. Of course I hope to be promoted, perhaps to go into some more congenial business when I get better acquainted in the city. If you should come to the city at any time I shall be glad to have you call at the hotel.

"Your son, "Leslie Waters."

In reply, Leslie received the following letter, written in a cramped hand, indicating that the writer was not accustomed to epistolary composition:

"Son Leslie—

"I have received your letter, and am glad to learn that you are not quite so foolish as I supposed. I was afraid you had the foolish notion of becoming a play actor. I never knew one in that profession who was a solid, sensible man. To my mind it is a very poor business. It is all very well for boys to speak pieces at school exhibitions, but when they start in to speak pieces for a livelihood it is very foolish. I surmised from some things I had observed in you that you had such a notion in your head, but I am glad I was mistaken.

"The hotel business is a good business, I am told. You don't tell me what your duties are, but you seem to be earning pretty good pay. I hope you will give satisfaction. You never earned even three dollars a week at farming, so that perhaps it may be well for you to stay where you are really earning a good income. Some time you may be qualified to keep a hotel yourself. Your mother's cousin keeps a hotel somewhere in Kansas, and I hear that he is making money. You did wrong to leave home without permission, but I will not find fault with you under the circumstances. When I go to New York I will call in and see how you are getting along. Your mother will make up a bundle of clothing and send you by express.

"Your father, "Jethro Waters."

Leslie showed this letter to Rupert.

"Your father doesn't suspect that you came to the city intending to go on the stage?" he said.

"No, he thinks I have given up my ambition to become an actor. He has no idea what a glorious profession it is. I don't suppose he ever went to the theatre in his life. I wish he could see Edwin Booth, or Irving, or Joseph Jefferson. Yet I suppose he would rather have me keep a hotel than become as great as either of these."

"It takes a smart man to keep a hotel, Leslie. Very likely Booth or Irving wouldn't succeed in that line."

"I hope some time I may get a chance on the stage. Will you go with me to-night to see Mansfield in 'Jekyll and Hyde'?"

"Yes; I have no other engagement."

That evening the two bell-boys had front seats in the gallery of a Broadway theatre, and saw Mr. Mansfield in his remarkable impersonation of the two contrasted characters. Leslie was filled with admiration.

"Do you know, Rupert, I think I will learn to act those parts in time?"

"You might succeed in Jekyll, but it would be more difficult to play the part of Hyde."

"Perhaps so. Indeed, I know you are right. But it is a part which I should enjoy. I have a great mind to make a study of it."

"If I were you I would try something easier."

"It is the hard parts that are best worth acting," said Leslie, grandly.

Rupert thought little more of this conversation, but two evenings later, as he sat playing checkers with Harry Benton, there was a knock at the door of Mrs. Benton's apartment. On the door being opened, Mrs. Spenser appeared. She was the lady of whom Leslie hired his room. She seemed to be quite excited.

"Oh, Mr. Rollins," she exclaimed, addressing Rupert, "I wanted to see you. I am so frightened."

Rupert looked up in surprise.

"What is the matter, Mrs. Spenser?"

"Your friend, Mr. Waters, is making a terrible noise. Is he subject to fits?"

"Not that I ever heard."

"I don't dare to go in. He is acting like a wild man. I never heard anything to equal it. Do you know if any of his family were ever crazy?"

"I will go and see what is the matter. I don't think you need be alarmed."

"If he is really crazy," continued Mrs. Spenser, "I don't think I can keep him, though I need the money he pays for room rent."

Rupert abandoned his game, and, accompanied by the frightened woman, proceeded to the part of the house where Leslie lodged. As he stood outside in the hall he heard Leslie in a low, guttural voice rehearsing the part of Hyde. One who was not familiar with the rôle or the play might be excused for being startled.

Rupert tried the door, and entered.

There was his associate bell-boy, half-crouching, and with his black hair carefully disordered, walking across the room, with his naturally pleasant face distorted by a grin as fiendish as he could make it.

"Look at him! He is certainly crazy!" ejaculated the terrified landlady. "He looks awful."

"What are you doing, Leslie?" asked Rupert.

Leslie looked up, and his face showed embarrassment when he saw his visitors.

"I am practicing the part of Hyde," he said.

"I thought so. You have frightened Mrs. Spenser, who thought you had a fit or were crazy."

Instead of being offended, Leslie took this as a tribute to his art.

"Yes," he said, "it is a frightful character. Did I really look dreadful?"

"Awful!" said Mrs. Spenser.

"That's the way Mansfield looked. Isn't it, Rupert?"

"Something like it, Leslie, but I shouldn't think you would like to imitate such a personation. Why don't you try Romeo?"

"Romeo is a silly character. He is only a sixteenth century dude."

"Then imitate Claude Melnotte, in the 'Lady of Lyons.'"

"I never saw it."

"In that character, instead of looking frightful, you would need to look handsome, romantic and attractive. If Mrs. Spenser should see you in that she wouldn't be frightened."

"Are you an actor, Mr. Waters?" asked the landlady, curiously.

"I hope to be some day," returned Leslie, much flattered.

"I am going to have some friends come in to see me Christmas evening. I should be very much obliged if you would do some acting for us, only not that Hyde," and she shuddered.

"I shall be pleased to do what I can, Mrs. Spenser," replied Leslie, graciously. "I will speak some pieces for you—some pieces that require acting. I have a recitation called 'The Tramp.'"

"I shall be very glad to have you. It will be a great favor. Don't you act, too, Mr. Rollins?"

"No; I leave all that to my friend Leslie."

The landlady retired, leaving the two boys alone.

"What did you think of my acting, Rupert?" said Leslie.

"If I could see it again I think it would give me a nightmare."

"I consider that a compliment," said Leslie, complacently. "I shall never be satisfied, Rupert, till I go on the stage."

CHAPTER XXV.

LESLIE WATERS AS A DRAMATIC STAR

A year passed; not an eventful year, however, nor did it materially change the position of the principal characters introduced in our story. Rupert was still a bell-boy in the Somerset Hotel. He had been raised three dollars a week, however, and was now receiving a salary of eight dollars, besides his board.

His friend Leslie Waters was doing satisfactory service at six dollars. He had by no means lost his love for the stage. He economized on clothing in order to attend the theatre. It must be said that his taste was good, and that he preferred standard plays and good acting to the sensational pieces that too often eclipse in success the better class of dramas. He had joined the Violet Dramatic Club of young men, meeting weekly somewhere on West Fourteenth Street. The members of the club laboriously rehearsed short plays, and offered their services gratuitously, or for a slight compensation, to charitable societies, and thus obtained some valuable training and a share of applause.

Of course Leslie Waters was always cast for a prominent part. Of all the members of the society he was the most ambitious, and the most willing to work. For a long time he tried to induce his fellow-members to essay a long play. He was particularly desirous of playing Claude Melnotte, in the "Lady of Lyons." The main difficulty, however, was in obtaining a young lady capable of playing Pauline. At length that difficulty was surmounted. A young lady of eighteen, from Brooklyn, the cousin of one of the members of the club, who, like Leslie, thought herself born for the stage, offered her services, and was adjudged competent, although rather disposed to overdo the part.

One day Leslie brought to his friend Rupert a circular to the following effect:

"The Violet Dramatic Club beg leave to inform their friends and the public generally that they will produce Bulwer's noted play,

The Lady of Lyons,

At Amaranth Hall, on First Avenue, on the evening of Thursday, May 6, with the distinguished actor, Leslie Waters, in the character of Claude Melnotte. Miss Ida Strassburger, an accomplished amateur from Brooklyn, will appear as Pauline.

"Tickets, 25 and 50 cents."

"The proceeds will be given to the Society for the Relief of Indigent Laundresses."

"What do you think of that, Rupert?" asked Leslie, with a complacent smile.

"I congratulate you on your opportunity to make a hit. I am glad it is you, and not I, who is to play the part of Claude."

"Of course you would hardly be competent. If you would like some light part, like that of a servant, I think I might have got you into the cast."

"Thank you, Leslie, but I have no ambition in that direction. Who is the Pauline? Do you know her?"

"It is Ida Strassburger, of Brooklyn. She is a cousin of one of our members."

"How does she play?"

"Pretty well, but she has something of the Bowery style; that is, she rather overdoes her part. I have tried to tone her down."

"Does she look the part?"

"Well, no. I am sorry to say it, but she is rather short and fat. She is German, as you may guess from her name. Still I think she will do, if she will be guided by me. You see we can't afford to be too particular about a Pauline, for it is harder to get actresses than actors."

"Do you feel at all nervous about your first appearance in a star part?"

"Oh, no, I never was troubled with stage fright. I have considerable confidence in myself."

This was quite true. Had Leslie been requested to appear as Hamlet, he would have had no misgivings, but with sufficient time for preparation would have walked on the stage prepared to enact the rôle of the melancholy Dane.

"I hope you will win the popular favor, and get your name before the public."

"I hope so. One of our members, who sometimes reports for the Evening News, has promised to write an account for that paper, and we hope to be noticed by the Sun and World."

"Suppose your father reads the account? Does he take either of these papers?"

"I hope he will. In fact I shall make sure that he does, for I will send the papers to him marked, getting you to address the wrappers. While he would object to my going on the stage professionally, I don't think he will mind my appearing for the benefit of a charitable society."

"Do you know anything about the Society for the Relief of Indigent Laundresses?"

"No."

"Yet you are going to work very hard for them."

"Oh, I don't care anything for the society. I would be willing to work for any society, as long as I got a chance to appear in a prominent part."

"I am not sure," said Rupert, laughing, "but I would like to have your club give a performance for the benefit of destitute bell-boys."

"I am quite ready, if any such society should be formed."

"I'll think about forming one, though I am glad to say I don't know of any destitute bell-boys at present."

Rupert bought several tickets, and invited the entire Benton family, including his young charge, to attend the performance.

Mrs. Spenser and her daughters received an invitation from Leslie Waters himself. The widow felt quite flattered.

"I am sure, Mr. Waters," she said, "I am proud to think a distinguished actor like you is a lodger of mine. It will seem so odd to see you on the stage. I don't see how you can do it."

"It comes natural to me, Mrs. Spenser," said Leslie, much flattered.

"And do you think you will ever go on the stage as a regular business, Mr. Waters?"

"I will if I have a good opportunity. To be a bell-boy does not satisfy my ambition."

"It is a good, steady business."

"Yes, but I feel that I was born for higher things. Anyone can be a bell-boy, but there are few who are qualified to become actors."

"I wonder your friend Mr. Rollins doesn't act."

"Well, you see, Rupert is a very good fellow, but I don't think he is gifted enough to become an actor, that is, a prominent actor. I offered to get him the part of a servant, but he didn't care to attempt it. Some time, Mrs. Spenser, when a child is needed in any of my plays, I may get the chance for your Sophie."

"Oh, Mr. Waters, how kind you are. Do you really think Sophie could act?"

"Yes, if I should train her. You know not very much is expected of a child."

"I should feel so proud to see my little girl on the stage. Did you ever see Elsie Leslie act?"

"Yes, she is very clever. I only wish she were old enough, and would consent to take the part of Pauline. She would be far better than Ida Strassburger."

"Is she pretty?"

"She is fair-looking, but she is too fat. However, she has a lover, a stout, young German, who, I understand, is jealous because on the stage I am to personate her lover. I presume he will be present. I will harrow him up by being a little extra affectionate."

"Now, Mr. Waters, you are really too bad. You ought to consider the feelings of the poor young man."

"His name is Otto Schaefer, and he is a butcher's assistant, I understand. I really hope he won't bring a butcher knife with him, for it might prove serious for me."

"Rupert," said Leslie in a mysterious tone, a few hours before the play, "I will tell you a secret if you won't breathe a word about it."

"Is it that you are engaged to the fair Pauline?"

"Oh, bother, no. Otto Schaefer may have her, if he wishes."

"What is it, then?"

"I have sent complimentary tickets to Palmer and Daly. Do you think they will come?"

"I imagine they are both very busy men, and cannot afford the time."

"I thought, if they should be impressed with my playing, one of them might offer me an engagement in his stock company."

"And you would like that?"

"Would I like it? It would make me supremely happy."

"Then you are not satisfied with the position of a bell-boy?"

"Certainly not. Are you?"

"For the present, yes."

"Should you be willing to be a bell-boy for the next twenty years?"

"No, I don't think I should, but I am still very young. I have just passed seventeen."

"And I am a year older. It is high time I entered upon my chosen vocation."

At length the eventful evening arrived. The hall was well filled, but the audience were from the neighborhood of First Avenue and Avenue A. Many of them were German or of German descent. The fact that Miss Strassburger, who was to play Pauline, was of Teutonic blood, doubtless accounted for this fact.

The play commenced and progressed smoothly. The actors were well up in their parts. Ida Strassburger, to be sure, hardly looked aristocratic enough for Pauline, her figure being decidedly dumpy. She assumed a coquettish air, and from time to time glanced from the corner of her eye at a short, stout German young man who sat but a few feet from the stage.

It is needless to say that this was Otto Schaefer, her Brooklyn lover. He seemed restless and ill at ease, especially when there were any affectionate passages between Ida and Leslie. For instance, when Pauline has to say, "Sweet prince, tell me again of thy palace by the Lake of Como; it is so pleasant to hear of thy splendors since thou didst swear to me that they would be desolate without Pauline," Otto's lip curled with scorn, and he glared at the prince with a hostile eye.

Towards the end of the play, when Melnotte presents himself after a long absence, and Pauline, recognizing her husband, rushes into his arms, Otto could stand it no longer. He sprang from his seat, jumped on the stage, and called out in an excited tone to Leslie: "You quit that! That gal is my promised wife."

Instantly there was a chorus of exclamations, and half the audience rose to their feet in excitement.

CHAPTER XXVI.

TRIUMPHANT OVER OBSTACLES

Never, probably, in the many representations of "The Lady of Lyons" has there been a stranger tableau than was presented on the stage in Amaranth Hall on the evening when Leslie made his début as a star.

Leslie stood in the centre of the stage, with his arm encircling the waist of the fair Ida, while Otto, short, stout, and decidedly Teutonic, stood a few feet to the left, shaking his fist at the two leading characters. It was enough to throw a veteran actor into confusion.

But Leslie was not wholly unprepared. Still encircling the fair Pauline's waist, he half turned and thundered in indignant words not to be found in Bulwer's play this stern defiance: "Caitiff, avaunt! This rock shall fly from its firm base as soon as I."

The melodramatic defiance caught the house. There was a chorus of shouts and laughter, and some small boys in the gallery called out, "Pitch into him, Claude!"

Otto, not being accustomed to standing on a stage facing a crowded audience, appeared somewhat abashed, but his indignation was still warm. He turned to the audience and said, in an explanatory tone, "He ain't got no right to hug my gal."

By this time Ida, too, was indignant. She felt that Otto was exposing both her and himself to ridicule, and she cried out, in a vexed tone, "You just sit down, Otto Schaefer, and don't make a fool of yourself, or I'll never speak to you again."

"Sit down! sit down!" resounded from all parts of the house.

Otto could not stand the clamor. With one last indignant glance at Leslie and his promised bride he descended from the stage and made his way to his seat in the orchestra.

When Leslie, resuming the business of the play, said, "Look up! look up, Pauline! for I can bear thine eyes. The stain is blotted from my name. I have redeemed mine honor," there was a shout of applause.

Then Leslie, perceiving his opportunity, interpolated a few words appropriate to the occasion. Pointing to the discomfited Otto, he said, "Heed not that vulgar groundling, who would step in between us and our happiness. Let him return in shame and failure to his butcher shop in Brooklyn, nor dare profane thy presence, sweet Pauline."

Otto felt that this was addressed to him, and he called out in a passion: "Don't you call me names, you New York dude!"

Here a policeman appeared, and hurried the unfortunate man from the hall, and the play proceeded to the close.

At the end Claude and Pauline were called before the curtain by the excited audience. The applause was terrific. Then there was a cry of "Speech! speech!"

Nothing could have suited Leslie better.

"My generous friends," he said, "this is the proudest moment of my life. I don't feel that I have merited your applause, but I accept it for the fair Pauline. If my poor efforts have pleased you I am more than satisfied. I did not anticipate the unpleasant interruption which marred our closing scene, but Miss Strassburger and myself were sustained by the thought that you were with us. Trusting to meet you again ere long, I bid you good-night."

There was another chorus of cheers. Leslie led Ida out at the wings, and the audience left the hall.

"What did you think of it, Rupert?" asked Leslie proudly, as he joined his fellow bell-boy in the street.

"I give you credit for getting out of a tight place so neatly."

"I was too much for the butcher boy, eh, Rupert?"

"You certainly were," said Rupert, laughing. "I hope Ida will forgive him."

"I think she will after a while, as long as he didn't spoil the play. The audience were very enthusiastic."

"Yes, more so probably on account of Otto's ill-timed interruption."

"So I think. It was a splendid ovation. Oh, Rupert, it was delicious. It was, as I said, the proudest moment of my life. I wonder if there will he anything in the papers about it."

"I think it quite likely."

"You didn't see anything of Daly or Palmer in the hall, did you?"

"I don't know the gentlemen by sight."

"I wish they had been there. I think they would have appreciated my triumph over the young butcher from Brooklyn."

"Perhaps they would," said Rupert, dubiously.

The next evening Leslie read the following notice in the Evening News:

"Last evening Bulwer's play, 'The Lady of Lyons' was produced by the Violet Dramatic Company at Amaranth Hall, on First Avenue. The performance was smooth and creditable to the young players. Mr. Leslie Waters as Claude Melnotte, was earnest and effective, while Miss Ida Strassburger made an acceptable Pauline. Towards the close of the play an excitable young German, who was probably under the influence of beer, left his seat, and, jumping on the stage, interrupted the performance. He appeared to be jealous of Melnotte's attentions to Pauline. Mr. Waters showed remarkable composure in a trying situation, and interpolated a rebuke to the officious intruder. The audience sustained him, and he and Miss Strassburger were called before the curtain with terrific applause. We shall doubtless hear from Mr. Waters again."

"That is very complimentary, Leslie," said Rupert. "I hope it won't unfit you for your duties as bell-boy."

"No, but it will make me impatient to close them for good and all, and embrace the glorious profession of Booth and Irving."

CHAPTER XXVII.

AN INGENIOUS TRICK

One morning a tailor's boy entered the Somerset Hotel with a bundle which he carried to the clerk.

"It is an overcoat for Mr. Silas Drayton," he said.

"Very well," said the clerk. "You can leave it, and we will send it to his room."

Upon this the boy left the hotel.

A young man of twenty-five or thereabouts, who was sitting near by, listened attentively to what passed between the boy and the clerk.

The latter summoned Rupert, and said: "Here is the key of 58. You may take up this coat and leave it in the room. It belongs to Mr. Drayton."

"All right, sir."

Rupert started with the bundle, and the young man started for the elevator, and got into it just as it was about to ascend.

"I want to go up to No. 58," he said.

"Very well."

When they reached the third floor the elevator boy halted.

"You will find No. 58 on this floor," he said.

"Thank you."

The young man found the room, and was standing in front of it when Rupert made his appearance.

"Is that my uncle's coat?" he asked.

"It is Mr. Drayton's coat."

"Exactly. Mr. Drayton is my uncle. You may give it to me, and I will take it in. Have you the key?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you may give it to me; I came up without one."

He spoke with such assurance that Rupert, accustomed as he was to impostors, was quite taken in. He handed the package and the key to the young man, who at once opened the door and went into the room.

When Rupert had got half-way down stairs he began to wonder if he had not made a mistake.

He did not feel at all sure that the young man to whom he had handed the bundle had any right to claim it. As it might prove to be a serious mistake he went to the clerk and inquired, "Has Mr. Drayton got a nephew stopping here?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"I am afraid I have made a blunder. At the door of No. 58 I met a young man who told me he was Mr. Drayton's nephew, and asked me to hand him the bundle."