The gentlemen are attentive to the ladies’ small needs, providing seats when possible, bringing a wrap, a glass of water, fanning you if you are warm, carrying your long train if it is heavy; but never, never losing the chance to play a joke on you if they can.

There is generally some ringleader of greenroom fun; for most actors are very impatient of “waits” between the scenes, and would rather pass such time in pranks than in quiet conversation.  On one occasion some of the actors had made noise enough to reach the managerial ear, and they were forfeited.  The actresses laughed at their discomfiture, and revenge was at once in order.  Next night, then, four young men brought bits of calico and threaded needles with them, and when their “wait” came, they all sat quietly in a row and sewed steadily.  The sight was so ludicrous the women went off into unbounded laughter, and were in their turn forfeited.

Nothing excuses the use of swear words behind the scenes, and even a very mild indulgence is paid for by a heavy forfeit.  One actor, not too popular with the company, used always to be late, and coming into the dressing room, he would fling everything about and knock things over, causing any amount of annoyance to his room-mates.  He went on in but one act, the third, and the lateness of the hour made his lack of business promptitude the more marked.  A joke was, of course, in order, and a practical joke at that.

One evening he was extra late, and that was the opportunity of the joking room-mates.  They carefully dropped some powerful, strong-holding gum into the heels of his patent leather shoes, and had barely put them in place, when the ever-late actor was heard coming on the run down the passage.  In he tore, flinging things right and left, overturning make-ups, and knocking down precious silk hats.  He grabbed his shoes, jammed his foot into one, scowled and exclaimed disgustedly, “What the deuce! there’s something in this shoe.  Bah,” he went on, “and in this one, too!”

“Take them off and shake ’em,” suggested the dropper of the gum.

“No time,” growled the victim; “I’ll get docked if I’m a second late.  But these confounded things feel damp in the heels,” and he kicked and stamped viciously.

“Damp in the heels?” murmured the guilty one, interrogatively.  “In the heels, said you?  What a very odd place for dampness to accumulate.  Now, personally, I find my heels are dry and smooth and hard, like—­like a china nest-egg, don’t you know; but damp heels, it doesn’t sound right, and it must feel very uncomfortable.  I don’t wonder you kick!”

And another broke in with:  “I say, old fellow, that was my India ink you spoiled then.  But never mind, I suppose your heels trouble you,” then asked earnestly, as the victim hastily patted a grey beard into place, “Is that good gum you have there?  Will it hold that beard securely?”

“Will it hold?  It’s the strongest gum ever made, it can hold a horse.  I have hard work to get it to dissolve nights with pure alcohol.”  This while the guilty one was writhing with that malicious joy known in its fulness to the practical joker alone.