The Understudy Page #5

"The Understudy" by Robert Barr is a satirical novel that explores the world of theater through the experiences of its protagonist, an understudy who grapples with the challenges of ambition, unfulfilled dreams, and the often absurd realities of the performing arts. Set against the backdrop of a bustling theatrical scene, the story delves into themes of identity, envy, and the pursuit of recognition, as the understudy navigates the complexities of relationships and the unpredictable nature of show business. With Barr's trademark wit, the novel offers a humorous yet insightful commentary on the precarious balance between success and obscurity in the life of an artist.

• Short story

								

incredulity on his face.

The girl barely entered the room, and, closing the door, stood with her
back against it. He was the first to speak.

"I thought Sidney had told me everything; I never knew he was
acquainted with a young lady, much less engaged to her."

"You admit, then, that you are not the true Sidney Ormond?"

"I admit it to you, of course, if you were to have been his wife."

"I am to be his wife, I hope."

"But Sidney, poor fellow, is dead; dead in the wilds of Africa."

"You will be shocked to learn that such is not the case, and that your
imposture must come to an end. Perhaps you counted on his friendship
for you, and thought that even if he did return he would not expose
you. In that you were quite right, but you did not count on me. Sidney
Ormond is at this moment in London, Mr. Spence."

Jimmy Spence, paying no attention to the accusations of the girl, gave
a war-whoop which had formerly been so effective in the second act of
"Pocahontas," in which Jimmy had enacted the noble savage, and then he
danced a jig that had done service in Colleen Bawn. While the
amazed girl watched these antics, Jimmy suddenly swooped down upon her,
caught her around the waist, and whirled her wildly around the room.
Setting her down in a corner, Jimmy became himself again, and dabbed
his heated brow with his handkerchief carefully, so as not to disturb
the makeup.

"Sidney in England again? That's too good news to be true. Say it
again, my girl, I can hardly believe it. Why didn't he come with you?
Is he ill?"

"He has been very ill."

"Ah, that's it, poor fellow. I knew nothing else would have kept him.
And then when he telegraphed to me at the old address, on landing, of
course, there was no reply, because, you see, I had disappeared. But
Sid wouldn't know anything about that, and so he must be wondering what
has become of me. I'll have a great story to tell him when we meet;
almost as good as his own African experiences. We'll go right up to
London to-night, as soon as this confounded supper is over. And what is
your name, my girl?"

"Mary Radford."

"And you're engaged to old Sid, eh? Well! well! well! well! This is
great news. You mustn't mind my capers, Mary, my dear; you see, I'm the
only friend Sid has, and I'm old enough to be your father. I look young
now, but you wait till the paint comes off. Have you any money? I mean,
to live on when you're married; because I know Sidney never had much."

"I haven't very much either," said Mary, with a sigh.

Jimmy jumped up and paced the room in great glee, laughing and slapping
his thigh.

"That's first rate," he cried. "Why, Mary, I've got over £20,000
in the bank saved up for you two. The book and lectures, you know. I
don't believe Sid himself could have done as well, for he always was
careless with money--he's often lent me the last penny he had, and
never kept any account of it; and I never thought of paying it back,
either, until he was gone, and then it worried me."

The messenger put his head into the room, and said the Mayor and the
Corporation were waiting.

"Oh, hang the Mayor and the Corporation!" cried Jimmy; then, suddenly
recollecting himself, he added, hastily, "No, don't do that. Just give
them Jimmy--I mean Sidney--Ormond's compliments, and tell his Worship
that I have just had some very important news from Africa, but will be
with him directly."

When the messenger was gone Jimmy continued in high feather. "What a
time we shall have in London. We'll all three go to the old familiar
theatre, yes, and by Jove, we'll pay for our seats; that will be
a novelty. Then we will have supper where Sid and I used to eat. Sidney
shall talk, and you and I will listen; then I shall talk, and you and
Sid will listen. You see, my dear, I've been to Africa too. When I got
Sidney's letter saying he was dying I just moped about and was of no
use to anybody. Then I made up my mind what to do. Sid had died for
fame, and it wasn't just he shouldn't get what he paid so dearly for. I
gathered together what money I could and went to Africa, steerage. I
found I couldn't do anything there about searching for Sid, so I
resolved to be his understudy and bring fame to him, if it were
possible. I sank my own identity and made up as Sidney Ormond, took his
boxes and sailed for Southampton. I have been his understudy ever
since, for, after all, I always had a hope he would come back some day,
and then everything would be ready for him to take the principal, and
let the old understudy go back to the boards again and resume competing
with the reputation of Macready. If Sid hadn't come back in another
year, I was going to take a lecturing trip in America, and when that
was done, I intended to set out in great state for Africa, disappear
into the forest as Sidney Ormond, wash the paint off and come out as
Jimmy Spence. Then Sidney Ormond's fame would have been secure, for
they would be always sending out relief expeditions after him and not
finding him, while I would be growing old on the boards and bragging
what a great man my friend, Sidney Ormond, was."

There were tears in the girl's eyes as she rose and took Jimmy's hand.

"No man has ever been so true a friend to his friend as you have been,"
she said.

"Oh, bless you, yes," cried Jimmy, jauntily. "Sid would have done the
same for me. But he is luckier in having you than in having his friend,
although I don't deny I've been a good friend to him. Yes, my dear, he
is lucky in having a plucky girl like you. I missed that somehow when I
was young, having my head full of Macready nonsense, and I missed being
a Macready too. I've always been a sort of understudy, so you see the
part comes easy to me. Now I must be off to that confounded Mayor and
Corporation, I had almost forgotten them, but I must keep up the
character for Sidney's sake. But this is the last act, my dear. To-
morrow I'll turn over the part of explorer to the real actor ... to the
star."
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