All the rest are funny.
Overwhelmingly, incredibly funny! And pathetic! Could anything be more
pathetic! But that awful President strikes a wrong note: Vulgarity. Take
her out of it and we'll have a thing the like of which New York had
never seen, for Ophelia is a genius or I miss my guess and all the rest
are darlings."

"But we can't throw out the President of the club. She must have a part.
You have moved her down from Hamlet to Laertes--to the King--"

"I did," groaned Burgess. "Will you ever forget her rendering of the
line, "Now I could do it, Pat," and then her storming up to me to know
"Who Pat was anyway?""

"I do," laughed Margaret, "and then how you moved her on to Guildenstern
and now you have got her down to Bernardo with all her part cut out and
nothing except that opening line, "Who's there?" and the other: "'Tis
now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.""

"Yes, and she ruins them. I've drilled her and drilled her till my
throat is sore and still she says it straight through her nose just as
though she were delivering an order of 'ham and' at her hash battery.
Just the same truculent 'Don't you dare to answer back' attitude. She's
impossible. She must be removed."

Meanwhile the Lady Hyacinths scattering to their different homes
discussed their mentor. Ophelia and Horatio and Hamlet were going
through Clinton Street together. Ophelia was still at Elsinore but
Horatio was approaching common ground again.

"I suppose he's Miss Masters' steady," said he to Hamlet. "He wouldn't
come down here every other night just to help us goils out."

But Ophelia was better informed. She knew Miss Masters to be engaged to
quite another person.

"Then I know," cried Horatio triumphantly. "He's stuck on Rosie
Rosenbaum. It's her brings him."

Ophelia said nothing, and Horatio having experienced an inspiration, set
about strengthening it with proof.

"It's Rosie sure enough. Ain't he learned her about every part in the
play? Don't he keep takin' her off in corners an' goin' 'Who's there,
'Tis now struck twelve' for about an hour every night? I wouldn't have
nothin' to do with a feller that kept company that way, but I s'pose
it's the style on Fifth Avenue. You know how I tell you, Ham, in the
play that there's lots of things goin' on what you ain't on to. Well
it's so. None of you was on to Rosie an' his nibs. You didn't ever guess
it did you 'Pheleir?"

"No," admitted Ophelia. "No, I never did."

"Wel