et a drink of water. Be back in a minute. George."

"Gone out in front to ask Mr. Morrisey a question. Be back in three
minutes. George."

"Helping fill Miss Kellerman's tank; don't know how long. George."

"Inside watching Banner of Light Act. George."

This "Banner of Light" act was Louie Fuller's "Ballet of Light,"
consisting of eight bare-legged girls dancing on big sheets of glass set
into the floor of the stage. George would go in under the stage and
watch the act up through these sheets of glass.

He said it was the best act that was ever in the house--for him.

* * * * *

Old "Con" Murphy was on the stage door of the Boston Theater for
eighteen years; his hours were from 9 A. M. to 11 P. M., with an hour
off for dinner and an hour for supper.

The theater faces on Washington Street and the stage door is on Mason
Street. For eighteen years Con sat in that Mason Street door and only
saw Washington Street once in all that time.

One day Eugene Tompkins, the owner of the theater, came along, stopped,
thought a minute, then said,

"Con, how long have you been here?"

"Sixteen years, come August," said Con.

"Ever had a vacation?"

"No, sor."

Tompkins looked at his watch; it was ten minutes of twelve. "Well, Con,"
he said, "when you go out to dinner, you stay out; don't come back
until to-morrow morning. Then come and tell me what you did."

Con put on his coat and went out; out to the first vacation he had had
in sixteen years; the first opportunity to see what this city he lived
in looked like. The first chance he had had in sixteen years to get out
into the country; to hear the birds sing; to see the green fields; the
trees; the flowers growing.

And what do you suppose he did?

He walked across the narrow alley and visited with the Stage Door Tender
of the Tremont Theater all the afternoon.

* * * * *

I asked the Stage Door Tender of Proctor's Twenty-third Street Theater
in New York once what he considered the best act that ever played the
house; unhesitatingly he replied,

"Joe Maxwell's Police Station act."

I asked him why he considered that the best.

"Ain't no women in it."

* * * * *

An agent for some fangled kind of typewriter was trying to interest the
Stage Door Tender of Keith's Theater in Philadelphia in the machine:

"Now this is just what a man in your position wants and need