The Good Companions by J.B. Priestley — Read

Elsie finished with the show on the last Saturday at Mundley, when she had been given a most successful Benefit Night, concluding with genuine tears and bouquets. Jimmy had already slipped down to Birmingham to interview and book her successor, Miss Mamie Potter. This first week of their return to the Gatford Hippodrome was going to be exciting. The new soubrette was due to arrive on Monday morning, to rehearse in the afternoon, to appear at night. Then on Wednesday there was Elsie's wedding, which was to be celebrated out at the Dulver's hotel on the London Road. They were all going and the bus had already been ordered. Then on Saturday there was to be another Grand Benefit Night -- you could see the bills plastered all over the town -- this time for Miss Susie Dean, our popular comedienne. Next Saturday was Susie's twenty-first birthday. And she was giving a tea party first, and there was to be some sort of jollification, only vaguely outlined, as yet, after the show. Moreover, the Hippodrome would be packed out every night, as they all knew, with enthusiastic Gatfordians. Here was excitement enough for hardworking professionals. What a week!

Yet all was not well with them. The old members of the troupe, Jimmy and Mitcham and the Brundits, were still quietly in despair about the Bournemouth offer, not yet accepted. Miss Trant seemed so dreamy and remote these days that she was considered unapproachable for the time being. It was very odd, but there it was. Business was never better, and, on the other hand, nothing bolder had been attempted for years in the C. P. world than Miss Trant's present venture, the renting of the Hippodrome, on stiff terms, with some nasty clauses slipped in; and yet -- so fantastic is the sex, as Jimmy and Mr. Mitcham pointed out to one another -- she did not seem to be bothering her head about it at all. But then all the young people were rather queer. Jerry Jerningham was more aloof and mysterious than usual, and was thought to be up to something, though nobody knew what. In spite of birthday and benefit -- or because of them -- Susie was still restless, rather snappy at times, and given to wriggling her pretty shoulders at people who asked the simplest and friendliest questions. She had snubbed poor Inigo so often lately that now he kept out of her way, stalked about with a new and purposeful air, and was understood to be hard at work revising the eight numbers he had written for them, which he called his Tripe à la mode de Jazz -- to the entire mystification of his friend, Mr. Oakroyd. Success had come at last, but all these young people seemed to be taking it the wrong way, which proved conclusively to Mr. Mitcham that young people were not what they were when he had been a young person.