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Beth Norvell - A Romance of the West by Randall Parrish
page 13 of 318 (04%)
histrionic honors were destined to be easy ones, he was very soon
undeceived under the guidance of the enthusiastic manager. It proved a
strenuous afternoon, yet the young fellow had the right stuff in him to
make good, that stubborn pride which never surrenders before
difficulties; he shut his teeth, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and went
earnestly to work.

It was a small, cheaply built theatre, having restricted stage space,
while a perfect riff-raff of trunks and detached pieces of canvas
scenery littered the wings. At first sight it appeared a confused
medley of odds and ends, utterly impossible to bring into any
conformity to order, but Albrecht recognized each separate piece of
luggage, every detached section of canvas, recalling exactly where it
properly belonged during the coming performance. For more than an hour
he pranced about the dirty stage, shouting minute directions, and
giving due emphasis to them by growling German oaths; while Winston,
aided by two local assistants, bore trunks into the various
dressing-rooms, hung drop curtains in designated positions, placed set
pieces conveniently at hand, and arranged the various required
properties where they could not possibly be overlooked during the rush
of the evening's performance. Thus, little by little, order was
evolved from chaos, and the astute manager chuckled happily to himself
in quick appreciation of the unusual rapidity with which the newly
engaged utility man grasped the situation and mastered the confusing
details. Assuredly he had discovered a veritable jewel in this fresh
recruit. At last, the affairs of principal importance having been
attended to, Albrecht left some final instructions, and departed for
the hotel, feeling serenely confident that this young man would carry
out his orders to the letter.

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