At seven o’clock Dodo came in with one of those sunburst souses, and as she went sailing by to her dressing room she gave us the haughty head and murmured, “You betcher sweet!”

Seven thirty and no Skinski.

I was nervous, but I wasn’t a marker to Bunch.  He had long since graduated from biting his finger nails, and was now engaged in eating the brim of his opera hat.

Seven forty-five and no Skinski.

I was afraid to tell Bunch what I was thinking, and Bunch was afraid to think for fear he’d spill something.

Eight o’clock came and still no Skinski.

It was pitiful.

I began to see visions of an insulted audience reaching for my collar over the prostrate form of my partner in crime.

An usher came back at 8:10 and told us the house was full.

I grinned at him foolishly and Bunch fell over a stage brace and disgraced himself.

At 8:15 the orchestra leader came up to see why we didn’t ring in and Bunch told him to ring off.

I told Beethoven, or whatever his name was, to tune up and play everything in sight till I gave him the warning.

At 8:20 Ma’moiselle Dodo waltzed out of her dressing room made up to look like a cream puff.

“Where’s Skinski?” I shrieked.  “It’s nearly 8:30 and he’s keeping that mob waiting.  Isn’t he going to show up!”

“You betcher sweet!” she gurgled, and passed on.

At 8:25 I rushed into Skinski’s dressing room, put on a swift makeup, dove into Skinski’s fright wig, hid my face behind a false moustache and goatee, and prepared to sell my life dearly.

“What are you going to do?” asked Bunch in wild alarm.

“I’m going out and pull a few mouldy tricks till Skinski gets here,” I answered heroically.

Then I gave the warning to the leader and rang up the curtain.

I was greeted by a harsh round of applause as I stepped out and I could feel both knees get up and leave my legs.

I pulled myself together, picked up a pack of cards and began to do things with the deck that no mortal man ever saw before, while Bunch stood in the wings with his teeth chattering so loud they sounded like a pedestal clog accompaniment.

Then I picked up an egg where Skinski had placed it on the tabaret and started in to do something mysterious with it.

Just as I raised the egg to show it to the audience I got a flash of the stage box on my right, and there, gazing curiously at me, sat Peaches and Alice Grey and Aunt Martha.

I was so surprised I dropped the egg, and it lay at my feet in the form of an omelet, while the house roared with joy.

[Illustration:  I was so surprised I dropped the egg.]

At this moment Skinski bounded on the stage, bowed right and left, and in five words he made it appear that I was only a comedy curtain raiser.

Say!  I never was so glad to see anybody in all my life.