A Peep Behind the Scenes | Page 4

do any work.'
'Hold your tongue!' said her husband; 'I know better than that. Well,
mind you have Rosalie ready in time; we shall begin early to-night.'
Little Rosalie had crept to her mother's side, and was crying quietly at
her father's rough words.
'Stop crying this minute, child!' said Augustus harshly. 'Wipe your eyes,
you great baby! Do you think you'll be fit to come on the stage if
they're red and swollen with crying? Do you hear me? Stop at once, or
it will be the worse for you!' he shouted, as he shut the caravan door.
'Rosalie, darling,' said her mother, 'you mustn't cry; your father will be
so angry, and it's time you got ready. What a noise there is in the fair
already!' said the poor woman, holding her aching head.
Rosalie wiped her eyes and washed her face, and then brought out from
one of the boxes the dress in which she was to act at the play. It was a
white muslin dress, looped up with pink roses, and there was a wreath
of paper roses to wear in her hair. She dressed herself before a tiny
looking-glass, and then went to her mother to have the wreath of roses
fastened on her head.
The poor woman raised herself in bed, and arranged her little girl's long
tresses.
What a contrast Rosalie looked to the rest of the caravan! The shabby
furniture, the thin, wasted mother, the dirty, torn little frock she had just
laid aside, were quite out of keeping with the pretty little white-robed
figure which stood by the bed.
At length her father's voice called her, and after giving her mother a last
kiss, and placing some water near her on the box, in case a violent fit of

coughing should come on, Rosalie ran quickly down the caravan steps,
and rushed into the brilliantly-lighted theatre. A crowd of people stared
at her as she flitted past and disappeared up the theatre steps.
The audience had not yet been admitted, so Rosalie crept into the room
behind the stage, in which her father's company was assembled. They
all looked tired and cross, for this was the last night of the fair, and they
had had little sleep whilst it lasted.
At length Augustus announced that it was time to begin, and they all
went out upon a platform, which was erected half way up the outside of
the theatre, just underneath the three rows of illuminated stars. Here
they danced, and sang, and shook tambourines, in order to beguile the
people to enter. Then they disappeared within, and a crowd of eager
spectators immediately rushed up the steps, paid their admission money,
and took their seats in the theatre.
After this the play commenced, Augustus acting as manager, and
keeping his company up to their various parts. It was a foolish play,
and in some of the parts there was a strong mixture of very
objectionable language; yet it was highly appreciated by the audience,
and met with vociferous applause.
There were many young girls there, some of them servants in
respectable families, where they enjoyed every comfort; yet they
looked up at little Rosalie with eyes of admiration and envy. They
thought her life was much happier than theirs, and that her lot was
greatly to be desired. They looked at the white dress and the pink roses,
and contrasted them with their own warm but homely garments; they
watched the pretty girl going through her part gracefully and easily, and
they contrasted her work with theirs. How interesting, how delightful,
they thought, to be doing this, instead of scrubbing floors, or washing
clothes, or nursing children!
But they knew nothing of the life behind the scenes; of the sick mother,
the wretched home, the poor and insufficient food, the dirty, ragged
frock. They knew nothing of the bitter tears which had just been wiped
away, nor of the weary aching of the little feet which were dancing so

lightly over the stage.
And those little feet became more and more weary as the night went on.
As soon as the play was over, the people rushed out into the fair to seek
for fresh amusement; but the actors had no rest. Once more they
appeared on the platform to attract a fresh audience, and then the same
play was repeated, the same songs were sung, the same words were
said; fresh to the people who were listening, but oh, how stale and
monotonous to the actors themselves!
And so it went on all night; as soon as one exhibition was over, another
began, and the theatre was filled and refilled, long after the clock of the
neighbouring church had struck the hour of twelve.
At last it was over; the