Miss Ellsling's
scene, which he should have followed carefully, meant nothing to
him but a ticking off of the seconds before he should behold
with his physical eyes the living presence of the fairy ghost
that had put a spell upon him. He was tremulous all over.
Miss Ellsling and her companion came to a full stop and stood
waiting. Thereupon Packer went to the rear of the stage, leaned
through an open doorway, and spoke deferentially:
"Mr. Potter? All ready, sir. All ready, Miss--ah--Malone?"
Then he stepped back with the air of an unimportant person
making way for his betters to pass before him, while Canby's
eyes fixed themselves glassily upon the shabby old doorway
through which an actual, breathing Wanda Malone was to come.
But he was destined not to see her appear in that expectant
frame. Twenty years before--though he had forgotten it--in a
dazzling room where there was a Christmas tree, he had uttered a
shriek of ecstatic timidity just as a jingling Santa Claus began
to emerge from behind the tree, and he had run out of the room
and out of the house. He did exactly the same thing now, though
this time the shriek was not vocal.
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