`Hallo!' said Nicholas, starting. `I--'
`On Monday morning,' repeated Mr Crummles, raising his voice, to drown the unfortunate Mr Johnson's remonstrance; `that'll do, ladies and gentlemen.'
The ladies and gentlemen required no second notice to quit; and, in a few minutes, the theatre was deserted, save by the Crummles family, Nicholas, and Smike.
`Upon my word,' said Nicholas, taking the manager aside, `I don't think I can be ready by Monday.'
`Pooh, pooh,' replied Mr Crummles.
`But really I can't,' returned Nicholas; `my invention is not accustomed to these demands, or possibly I might produce--'
`Invention! what the devil's that got to do with it!' cried the manager hastily.
`Everything, my dear sir.'
`Nothing, my dear sir,' retorted the manager, with evident impatience. `Do you understand French?'
`Perfectly well.'
`Very good,' said the manager, opening the table drawer, and giving a roll of paper from it to Nicholas. `There! Just turn that into English, and put your name on the title-page. Damn me,' said Mr Crummles, angrily, `if I haven't often said that I wouldn't have a man or woman in my company that wasn't master of the language, so that they might learn it from the original, and play it in English, and save all this trouble and expense.'
Nicholas smiled and pocketed the play.
`What are you going to do about your lodgings?' said Mr Crummles.
Nicholas could not help thinking that, for the first week, it would be an uncommon convenience to have a turn-up bedstead in the pit, but he merely remarked that he had not turned his thoughts that way.
`Come home with me then,' said Mr Crummles, `and my boys shall go with you after dinner, and show you the most likely place.'
The offer was not to be refused; Nicholas and Mr Crummles gave Mrs Crummles an arm each, and walked up the street in stately array. Smike, the boys, and the phenomenon, went home by a shorter cut, and Mrs Grudden remained behind to take some cold Irish stew and a pint of porter in the box-office.
Mrs Crummles trod the pavement as if she were going to immediate execution with an animating consciousness of innocence, and that heroic fortitude which virtue alone inspires. Mr Crummles, on the other hand, assumed the look and gait of a hardened despot; but they both attracted some notice from many of the passers-by, and when they heard a whisper of `Mr and Mrs Crummles!' or saw a little boy run back to stare them in the face, the severe expression of their countenances relaxed, for they felt it was popularity.
Mr Crummles lived in St Thomas's Street, at the house of one Bulph, a pilot, who sported a boat-green door, with window-frames of the same colour, and had the little finger of a drowned man on his parlour mantelshelf, with other maritime and natural curiosities. He displayed also a brass knocker, a brass plate, and a brass bell-handle, all very bright and shining; and had a mast, with a vane on the top of it, in his back-yard.