f of
my rent-money and handed it to him. I dared not ask my landlady to favor
me further than that. His face lighted up radiantly--it might have been
hundreds from his look. "Dearie!" he said, "I'll pay this back to the
penny. You can ill spare it, I see that, crummie girl, but, oh, my lass,
it's worse to see another hungry than it is to hunger yourself. I'll pay
it back!" His eyes filled, he paused long, then he said, pathetically:
"Some time, crummie girl, some time!"

My landlady granted me grace. Months passed away--many of them--waves
went over me sometimes, but they receded before my breath was quite gone.
Things were bettering a little, and then one day, when I came home from
work, a man had called in my absence--an old man, who had left this
little packet, and, oh! he had been so anxious for its safety!

I opened it to find $25, all in bills of ones and twos. Such a pathetic
story those small bills told--they were for the crummie girl, "With the
thanks of the obliged, Charles W. Couldock."

He had kept his word; he was the only man in this profession who ever
repaid me one dollar of borrowed money. Mr. Couldock was like some
late-ripening fruit that requires a touch of frost for its sweetening. In
his old age he mellowed, he became chaste of speech, his acting of
strong, lovable old men was admirable. He was honored by his profession
in life and honestly mourned in death--he would not have asked more.

CHAPTER NINETEENTH

I Come to a Turning-Point in my Dramatic Life--I play my First Crying
Part with Miss Sallie St. Clair.

We were in Columbus; things were moving along smoothly and quietly, when
suddenly that incident occurred which had the power to change completely
my dramatic prospects, while at the same time it convinced the people
about me, in theatrical parlance, my head was "well screwed on," meaning
it was not to be turned by praise.

Miss Sallie St. Clair was the star of the week, and she was billed to
appear on Friday and Saturday nights in an adaptation of "La Maison
Rouge." I am not certain as to the title she gave it, but I think it was
"The Lone House on the Bridge." She was to play the dual characters--a
count and a gypsy boy. The leading female part Mrs. Ellsler declined,
because she would not play second to a woman. The young lady who had been
engaged for the juvenile business (which comes between leading parts and
walking ladies) had a very poor study, and tearfully declared