Stafford, was losing his temper,
when the door flew open, and two young persons entered and made their
way boldly up to the stage.

As all the room was dark except the part allotted to the actors, it was
not till these intruders had mounted the platform and honoured the
company with two ceremonious bows that their identity became apparent.
Arthur and Dig, after twelve hours in bed, had become weary unto death;
and when, presently, from the room below arose the voices and laughter
of the Comedians, they kicked the clothes off them, and mutually
agreed--colds or no colds--they could stand, or rather lie, it no
longer.

"Wouldn't they grin if we turned up?" said Arthur; "I vote we do."

"All serene," said Dig; "we may as well get up."

Dig meant the term "get up" in the professional sense. He accordingly
arrayed himself, to the best of his lights, in the garb of a low
comedian; that is, he put on a red dressing-gown, flannel drawers, and a
very tall collar, made out of cardboard; and blacked a very fine
moustache on his lip with a piece of coal. Arthur, meanwhile, had a
more delicate task to perform in extemporising the toilet of a maid-of-
all-work. An ulster belonging to Tilbury supplied him with a dress, and
by turning up the sleeves, and arranging his night-dress apron-wise over
the front, he managed to give a fair idea of the kind of character he
aimed to personate. He then ruffled up his hair, and brought as much of
it as he was able down in the front for a fringe, surmounting it all
with a handkerchief shaped to represent a cap. Finally, he smudged his
face over with coal dust, and secured one of Mrs Hastings's mops and a
pail from the cupboard at the end of the corridor, and pronounced
himself ready for the fray.

It need hardly be said that the apparition of these two extraordinary
figures created a sensation among the jaded Comedians and their friends.
The sudden restoration to health of the two invalids was less
astonishing, perhaps, than their strange get-up, or the spirit with
which they proceeded to throw themselves into their respective parts.

Wake, with a smile of relief, shut up his book and retired among the
audience.

Dig knew his part well, and acted it with such a depth of low comedy
that it mattered little what mistakes or blunders the funny irascible
and the funny meek gentlemen and ladies made. He uttered the greatest
commonplaces a leer and a wink, which imported a vast deal of mean