Amateur night, says the voice, and some ladies and gentlemen will seek to
entertain us with a few specialties for our amusement. And will the ladies
and gentlemen of the audience applaud according to the merit of each
performer? For the one who gets the most applause, he or she will win the
grand first prize of fifty bones.
Attaboy! Will we applaud? Say, bring 'em out I Bring 'em out! Ah, here she
is. A pale, trembling little morsel with frightened eyes and a worn blue
serge skirt. The floor is slippery. "Miss Waghwoughblngsz," says the
voice, "will sing for your entertainment."
A terrified little squeak. A Mae Marsh grimace of courage. Good! Say,
she's great! Look at her try to swing her body. And her arms have lost
their joints. And she's forgotten the words. Poor little tyke. Throw her
something. Pennies. While she's singing. See who can hit her.
So we throw her pennies and nickels and dimes. They land on her head and
one takes her on the nose. And her voice dies away like a baby bird
falling out of a nest. And she stands still--jerking her mouth and the
pennies falling all around her. And a cynical-looking youth bounces out
and picks them up. Bravo! She tried to bow and slipped. Another round of
applause for that.
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