My Footlight Husband; A Story of the Stage

This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1893. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... my footlight husband. chapter I. Rat-tat-tat-ta!!! There is a series of meek, unpresuming little knocks at the door of my dressing-room. He, she, or it can continue knocking. He, she, or it will not be permitted to enter, so I push fat Ann into a chair as she starts for the door, and continue decorating nature for the footlights. There is chaos around me, but I like it; it soothes me. Tidy folks are people of small ideas, narrow and bigoted. It is slovenly ones, who care nothing for the conventions of order, that find time to enjoy life. I see bureau-drawers open on all sides, and from them peep slippers and boots of all descriptions, dainty stockings of every conceivable and inconceivable hue; bracelets made of stage material, gloves, fans, artificial flowers, veils, handkerchiefs, ribbons, lace, and all the rest of it. Ann pretends that she knows where to find each article, because she feels that it is her duty to do so. The dear, fat thing, however, is quite as nntidy as I am, and that is one reason why I keep her. Rat-tat-tat-ta!!! This series of knocks is not quite so meek and unpresuming as the former volley. I am absolutely deaf for the time being. Carefully I regard my figure in the glass, give my embonpoint a number of little punches, shake myself, and pull myself down. Then I add a few touches of rouge to my reddened cheeks, and emphasize my already emphatic eyebrows with a dark pencil. Dipping a feathery powder-puff iu a bath oipoudre de riz, I pass it coyly over my face, then, with a little rabbit's paw, that will never again go pitter-patter through the woods (this is pure pathos), I rub in the tints, so that they may look as though they were born there. A dash of white, a dash of red, and the deed is done. My face is ready for the grinning public. ...