The Rebirth of Wonder Read Online Free Page B

traditional long
skirt. Art wondered why on earth anyone would wear leather in
August.
    A middle-aged black woman in faded jeans and
a floral-print blouse knotted at her midriff stood with her hands
on her hips, arguing amiably with a rather smug-looking, mustached
man in black slacks and a Hawaiian shirt.
    An obese Oriental wearing only a pair of
brown shorts stood panting in center stage, looking up at the
flies.
    Two swarthy men, one in a turban, were
talking together well upstage, where Art couldn't see them
clearly.
    And a woman, or maybe only a girl, with light
brown hair and a summer dress, sat on the edge of the stage,
smiling at him.
    They were an even more motley crew than most
theater troupes, Art thought. He also wondered whether this was the
entire company; Bampton Summer Theatre usually had twice this
number.
    But then, Bampton Summer Theatre was purely
amateur.
    Most of the others had turned when Ms. Fox
leapt up on the stage, looking to see what the commotion was about.
What desultory conversation they had been pursuing now died away
completely as the entire company turned to stare at Art.
    “ Hi,” he said,
standing in the aisle feeling foolish.
    Behind him, Innisfree cleared his throat.
    “ My fellow... ah,
thespians!” Innisfree announced. “This is Arthur Dunham, our
landlord's son. We are to make him welcome, as a requirement of our
rental here!”
    Most of the smiles that had been present had
vanished. “You think he's no trouble, Merle?” the black woman
asked.
    “ Ah, my dear Tituba,
trouble or no, what choice have we?” Innisfree called
back.
    “ I won't be any
trouble,” Art said, annoyed. “I've worked here for years, done more
than a dozen shows. I know where everything is, how everything
works.”
    “ You do not know how we work,” the man with the mustache
retorted.
    Art shrugged. “I'll learn. And I'll stay out
of your way, if that's what you want.”
    “ That is indeed what
we want,” the big black man replied. “We mean you no ill, Mr.
Dunham, but we have our own ways.”
    “ Well, that's fine,
then,” Art said, trying to hide his annoyance. “But my dad wants me
here to keep an eye on the place, and Mr. Innisfree agreed, so here
I am. Now, is there anything I can help with? Anything I can tell
you about? Maybe show you somewhere you can put those things?” He
pointed out the Duke of Athens's stage and the fairy queen's
bower.
    Several of the Bringers of Wonder turned to
look where he pointed, as if noticing the retired sets for the
first time.
    “ Can we use those?”
the woman in green asked, directing her question not to Art, but to
Innisfree.
    “ We don't need
them,” the black woman replied.
    Innisfree turned up empty hands. “If you
like, Faye, I'm sure we can find a use for them.”
    “ Everyone already saw them in A Midsummer Night's
Dream ,” Art pointed out.
    “ Then we'll
transform them,” the woman in green said, “and none shall recognize
them.”
    “ Suit yourselves,”
Art said. “But if you'd rather just get rid of them, there's
storage space in the basement, and there's a trapdoor upstage there
that we can lower them down through – it'll take about five men,
I'd say, two up here and three downstairs.”
    “ Boy,” the old woman
in the kerchief snapped, startling Art, “haven't we told you to
mind your own business? If we want 'em stashed, we'll do it
ourselves!” Her voice was no weak old woman's quaver, but sharp and
strong; it cut through the theater like an oar through
water.
    That was one person who would
have no trouble projecting to the back of the theater, Art thought.
“I'm sorry, Ma'am,” he said, “but it is my business – anything to do with
this theater is.”
    “ Merle,” the old
woman said, glowering at Innisfree, “if I'd known this place came
with its own built-in twerp, I'd never have agreed to
it.”
    “ Peace, Grandmother,” said the man with the turban.
“Where else would we go?”
    “ Any number of
places,