At the same instant, there was confusion at the stage-door, the climax of which was the re-entrance of Hart into the greenroom.

"How can a man play when he trembles for his life lest he step upon a lord?" cried the angry manager. "They should be horsewhipped off the stage, and"--his eyes falling upon Buckingham--"out of the greenroom."

"Ah, Hart," began his lordship, with a patronizing air, "why is Nelly so long? I desire to see her."

Hart's lips trembled, but he controlled his pa.s.sion. "Indeed? His Majesty and the good folk in front would doubtless gladly await your interview with Mistress Eleanor Gwyn. Shall I announce your will, my lord, unto his Majesty and stop the play?"

"You grow ironical, friend Hart," replied his lordship.

"Not so," said the actor, bowing low; "I am your lordship's most obedient servant."

Buckingham's lip curled and his eyes revealed that he would have said more, but the room was meantime filling with players from the stage, some exchanging compliments, some strutting before the gla.s.s, and he would not so degrade his dignity before them. d.i.c.k, foil in hand even in the manager's room, was testing the steel's strength to his utmost, in boyish fashion.

This confusion lent Moll courage, and forth came again the cry: "Oranges? Will you have my oranges? Only sixpence, sir."

She boldly offered her wares to Almanzor, but started and paled when the hero turned and revealed Manager Hart.

"What are you doing here, you little imp? Back to the pit, where you belong." The manager's voice was full of meaning.

"Nell told me I might come here, sir," said the girl, faintly excusing herself.

Hart's temper got the better of him. To admit before all that Nell ruled the theatre was an affront to his managerial dignity which he could not brook.

"Oh, Nell did, did she?" he almost shrieked, as he angrily paced the room like some caged beast, gesticulating wildly.

The actors gathered in groups and looked askant.

"Gadso," he continued, "who is manager, I should like to know! Nell would introduce her whole trade here if she could. Every orange-peddler in London will set up a stand in the greenroom at the King's, next we know. Out with you! This is a temple of art, not a marketplace. Out with you!"

He seized Moll roughly in his anger and almost hurled her out at the door. He would have done so, indeed, had not Nell entered at this moment from the stage. Her eye caught the situation at a glance.

"Oh, blood, Iago, blood!" she exclaimed, mock-heroically, then burst into the merriest laugh that one could care to hear. "How now, a tragedy in the greenroom! What lamb is being sacrificed?"

Hart stood confused; the players whispered in expectation; and an amused smile played upon the features of my Lord Buckingham at the manager's discomfiture. Finally Hart found his tongue.

"An old comrade of yours at orange-vending before you lost the art of acting," he suggested, with a glance at Moll.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "ENEMIES TO THE KING--BEWARE!"]

"By a.s.sociation with you, Jack?" replied the witch of the theatre in a way which bespoke more answers that wisdom best not bring forth.

Nell's whole heart went out to the subject of the controversy. Poor little tattered Orange Moll! She was carried back in an instant to her own bitter life and bitter struggles when an orange-girl. Throwing an arm about the child, she kissed away the tears with, "What is the matter, dear Moll?"

"They are all mocking me, and sent me back to the pit," replied the girl, hysterically.

"Shame on you all," said Nell; and the eyes that were so full of comedy revealed tragic fire.

"Fy, fy," pleaded Hart; "I'll be charitable to-morrow, Nell, after this strain is off--but a first night--"

"You need charity yourself?" suggested Nell; and she burst into a merry laugh, in which many joined.

Buckingham instantly took up the gauntlet for a bold play, for a _coup d'etat_ in flattery. "Pshaw!" he cried, waving aside the players in a princely fashion. "When Nell plays, we have no time to munch oranges.

Let the wench bawl in the street."

Poor Moll's tears flowed again with each harsh word. Nell was not so easily affected.

"Odso, my lord! It is a pity your lordship is not a player. Then the orange-trade would flourish," she said.

Buckingham bowed, amused and curious. "Say you so, i' faith! Pray, why, mad minx?"

"Your lordship would make such a good mark for the peel," retorted Nell, tossing a bit of orange-peel in his face, to the infinite delight of Hart and his fellow-players.

"Devil!" angrily exclaimed his lordship as he realized the insult. "I would kill a man for this; a woman, I can only love." His hand left his sword-hilt; and he bowed low to the vixen of the theatre, picked from the floor the bit of peel which had fallen, kissed it, tossed it over his shoulder and turned away.

Nell was not done, however; her revenge was incomplete. "There! dry your eyes, Moll," she exclaimed. "Give me your basket, child. You shall be avenged still further."

The greenroom had now filled from the stage and the tiring-rooms; and all gathered gleefully about to see what next the impish Nell would do, for avenged she would be they all knew, though the course of her vengeance none could guess.

The manager, catching at the probable outcome when Nell seized from Moll's trembling arm the basket heaped with golden fruit, gave the first warning: "Great Heavens! Flee for your lives! I'faith, here comes the veteran robber at such traffic."

There was a sudden rush for the stage, but Nell cried: "Guard the door, Moll; don't let a rascal out. I'll do the rest."

It was not Moll's strength, however, which kept the greenroom filled, but expectation of Nell. All gathered about with the suspense of a drama; for Nell herself was a whole play as she stood in the centre of that little group of lords and players, dressed for Almahyde, Dryden's heroine, with a basket of oranges on her dimpled arm. What a pretty picture she was too--prettier here even than on the stage! The nearer, the prettier! A band of roses, one end of which formed a garland falling to the floor, circled and bound in her curls. What a figure in her Oriental garb, hiding and revealing. Indeed, the greenroom seemed bewitched by her cry: "Oranges, will you have my oranges?"

She lifted the basket high and offered the fruit in her enchanting old-time way, a way which had won for her the place of first actress in England. Could it not now dispose of Moll's wares and make the child happy? Almahyde's royal train was caught up most unroyally, revealing two dainty ankles; and she laughed and danced and disposed of her wares all in a breath. Listen and love:

_Sweet as love-lips, dearest mine, Picked by Spanish maids divine, Black-eyed beauties, who, like Eve, With golden fruit their loves deceive!

Buy oranges; buy oranges!_

_Close your eyes, when these you taste; Think your arm about her waist: Thus with sixpence may you win Happiness unstained with sin.

Buy oranges; buy oranges!_

_As the luscious fruit you sip, You will wager 'tis her lip; Nothing sweeter since the rise Of wickedness in Paradise.

Buy oranges; buy oranges!_

There were cries of "Brava!" "Another jig!" and "Hurrah for Nelly!" It was one of those bits of acting behind the scenes which are so rare and exquisite and which the audience never see.

"Marry, gallants, deny me after that, if you dare"; and Nell's little foot came down firmly in the last step of a triumphant jig, indicating a determination that Moll's oranges should be sold and quickly too.

"Last act! All ready for the last act," rang out in d.i.c.k's familiar voice from the stage-door as she ended. It was well some one thought of the play and of the audience in waiting.

Many of the players hastily departed to take up their cues; but not so Nell. Her eyes were upon the lordly Buckingham, who was endeavouring to effect a crafty exit.

"Not so fast, my lord," she said as she caught his handsome cloak and drew him back into the room. "I want you with me." She looked coyly into his lordship's face as though he were the one man in all the world she loved, and her curls and cheek almost nestled against his rich cloak. "A dozen, did you say? What a heart you have, my lord. A bountiful heart!"

Buckingham was dazed; his eyes sought Nell, then looked aghast at the oranges she would force upon him. The impudence of it!

"A dozen!" he exclaimed in awe. "'Slife, Nelly; what would I do with a dozen oranges?"