"Gail, that isn't the way to do it," Clarence called to her sharply,
as she danced in with the minimum of effort, in the "Good morrow,
good mother" song that she had with Joy and Tiddy, respectively
_Iolanthe_ and _Strephon_. "Pick up your feet. You'll be down
over that garland in the corner if you don't look out."
"I'll pick them up tomorrow night," said Gail, pausing to answer
him. "No use putting all this work on rehearsal."
She was undoubtedly right. And undoubtedly the garland had no
business to swing so loose, as Clarence himself afterwards admitted.
But the fact remained. As Gail stepped reluctantly back, and
recommenced her song, her high-heeled slipper caught in the swinging
garland, and she came down flat, with the ankle badly turned under her.
The opera stopped short while the others crowded around her and
tried to find out how badly she was hurt. She sat up straight and
tried to smile-Gail disliked having or showing feelings of any
sort--but she was white with the pain, and when she tried to stand
on the ankle it hurt her, as she admitted.
They carried her off the stage in a chair, and John, who was donning
his robes in the other dressing-room, was hurried over to see how
badly she was hurt.
"Don't stop for me, Clarence," Gail ordered. "On with the dance, let
Joy be unrefined. That is, if she can. I know you're hungering to
lash your wretched infant-school forward."
Clarence remarked that she was plucky, patted her shoulder, and went
thankfully off to put his chorus through an evolution or so while he
could.
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