It was
midnight, and the restaurant was filled with patrons from the theatres
of that district. Some among the dispersed audiences must have
recognized among the quarrelsome sextet the faces of the players
belonging to the Carroll Comedy Company.
Four of the six made up the company. Another was the author of the
comedietta, "A Gay Coquette," which the quartette of players had been
presenting with fair success at several vaudeville houses in the city.
The sixth at the table was a person inconsequent in the realm of art,
but one at whose bidding many lobsters had perished.
Loudly the six maintained their clamorous debate. No one of the Party
was silent except when answers were stormed from him by the excited
ones. That was the comedian of "A Gay Coquette." He was a young man
with a face even too melancholy for his profession.
The oral warfare of four immoderate tongues was directed at Miss
Clarice Carroll, the twinkling star of the small aggregation.
Excepting the downcast comedian, all members of the party united in
casting upon her with vehemence the blame of some momentous
misfortune. Fifty times they told her: "It is your fault, Clarice--it
is you alone who spoilt the scene. It is only of late that you have
acted this way. At this rate the sketch will have to be taken off.
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