andrews:
What ho, a vision before me, coming through the mists of Faerie? Ah, I see you now, the author of this mayhem.
charming:
You cannot mean me, mortal?
andrews:
Indeed I do. I pray thee, exquisite fairy queen, go not from my sight.
charming:
But I am wrapped in glamour and should not be visible to mortal eyes.
andrews:
And yet my poet’s eyes detect visions hid fromother men. Now that I behold your splendor, nothing else in this world can interest me.
charming:
Really? Do you mean it, colonel?
andrews:
I . . . uh . . .
charming:
Because I think you’re the bee’s cheese too!
andrews:
Well, I . . .Nothing else in this world can interest me . . .Ahem.
This kerfuffle veered off script for some time, with Mrs. Wattlesbrook whispering line prompts until Miss Charming got back on course.
“And now, Mr. Nobley, your death scene,” came Mrs. Wattlesbrook’s stage whisper.
Mr. Nobley acted out tripping and impaling himself on the prop sword. Miss Heartwright, distraught by his mortal wound and still fairy-dusted to be in love with him, grabbed his sword and mimed impaling herself as well. She fell to the floor dead but quickly realized that she had dropped too close to Mr. Nobley and would be in the way of his next scene. And so, still in stiff corpse pose, she rolled herself away, steamrolling through the battery-powered kerosene lamps in her path.
Nobley snorted as he fell onto his back, and Jane frolicked to his side. Old Jane would’ve blushed self-consciously, but New Jane decided to feel as enchanting as Miss Charming. In the game spirit of a kindergarten pageant, she really did try to deliver her lines with skill and passion, but she kept having to press her lips together to keep in a laugh. She placed Nobley’s head on her lap, took a deep breath, and tried again.
jane:
My friend, my lord, my love, is this a mortal wound? Hear me howl with despair!
nobley:
Go ahead then. I’d like to hear you howl.
jane:
Oh, um . . . HOOOOOWWWL!
nobley:
Most effective.And now, my life is used up, and I am near to my last breath.
