Read The Man with Two Left Feet for Free Online Page B

he took it up, and they sang it together, and the end of it was that he went off the popular hero. The audience yelled for more, and were only quieted when they turned down the lights and put on a film.
    When I had recovered I tottered round to see Gussie. I found him sitting on a box behind the stage, looking like one who had seen visions.
    â€˜Isn’t she a wonder, Bertie?’ he said, devoutly. ‘I hadn’t a notion she was going to be there. She’s playing at the auditorium this week, and she can only just have had time to get back to her matinee. She risked being late, just to come and see me through. She’s my good angel, Bertie. She saved me. If she hadn’t helped me out I don’t know what would have happened. I was so nervous I didn’t know what I was doing. Now that I’ve got through the first show I shall be all right.’
    I was glad I had sent that cable to his mother. I was going to need her. The thing had got beyond me.
    During the next week I saw a lot of old Gussie, and was introduced to the girl. I also met her father, a formidable old boy with quick eyebrows and a sort of determined expression. On the following Wednesday Aunt Julia arrived. Mrs. Mannering-Phipps, my aunt Julia, is, I think, the most dignified person I know. She lacks Aunt Agatha’s punch, but in a quiet way she has always contrived to make me feel, from boyhood up, that I was a poor worm. Not that she harries me like Aunt Agatha. The difference between the two is that Aunt Agatha conveys the impression that she considers me personally responsible for all the sin and sorrow in the world, while Aunt Julia’s manner seems to suggest that I am more to be pitied than censured.
    If it wasn’t that the thing was a matter of historical fact, I should be inclined to believe that Aunt Julia had never been on the vaudeville stage. She is like a stage duchess.
    She always seems to me to be in a perpetual state of being about to desire the butler to instruct the head footman to serve lunch in the blue-room overlooking the west terrace. She exudes dignity. Yet, twenty-five years ago, so I’ve been told by old boys who were lads about town in those days, she was knocking them cold at the Tivoli in a double act called
Fun in a Tea-Shop
, in which she wore tights and sang a song with a chorus that began, ‘Rumpty-tiddley-umpty-ay.’
    There are some things a chappie’s mind absolutely refuses to picture, and Aunt Julia singing ‘Rumpty-tiddley-umpty-ay’ is one of them.
    She got straight to the point within five minutes of our meeting.
    â€˜What is this about Gussie? Why did you cable for me, Bertie?’
    â€˜It’s rather a long story,’ I said, ‘and complicated. If you don’t mind, I’ll let you have it in a series of motion pictures. Suppose we look in at the auditorium for a few minutes.’
    The girl, Ray, had been re-engaged for a second week at the auditorium, owing to the big success of her first week. Her act consisted of three songs. She did herself well in the matter of costume and scenery. She had a ripping voice. She looked most awfully pretty; and altogether the act was, broadly speaking, a pippin.
    Aunt Julia didn’t speak till we were in our seats. Then she gave a sort of sigh.
    â€˜It’s twenty-five years since I was in a music hall!’
    She didn’t say any more, but sat there with her eyes glued on the stage.
    After about half an hour the johnnies who work the card-index system at the side of the stage put up the name of Ray Denison, and there was a good deal of applause.
    â€˜Watch this act, Aunt Julia,’ I said.
    She didn’t seem to hear me.
    â€˜Twenty-five years! What did you say, Bertie?’
    â€˜Watch this act and tell me what you think of it.’
    â€˜Who is it? Ray. Oh!’
    â€˜Exhibit A,’ I said. ‘The girl Gussie’s engaged to.’
    The girl did her act, and the house rose