miled and glanced uneasily at the clock--he went
on:

"I have always fancied my wife in _Emilia_, but, my girl, your readings
are absolutely new sometimes, and your strength is--what's the matter? a
farce yet? well, what of it? you, _you_ have to go on in a farce after
playing Shakespeare's _Emilia_ with E. L. Davenport? I'm damned if I
believe you!"

And I gathered up my cotton-velvet gown and hurried to my room to don
calico dress, white cap and apron, and then rush down to the
"property-room" for the perambulator I had to shove on, wondering what
the star would think if he knew that his _Emilia_ was merely walking on
in the farce of "Jones's Baby," without one line to speak, the second and
speaking nursemaid having very justly been given to one of the other
girls. But the needless sending of me on, right after the noble part of
_Emilia_, was evidently a sop thrown by my boldly independent manager to
his ballet--Cerberus.

Heretofore stars had advised or chided me privately, but, oh, dear, oh,
dear! next morning Mr. Davenport attacked Mr. Ellsler for
"mismanagement," as he termed it, right before everybody. Among other
things, he declared that it was a wound to his personal dignity as a star
to have a girl who had supported him, "not acceptably, but brilliantly,"
in a Shakespearian tragedy, sent on afterward in a vulgar farce. Then he
added: "Aside from artistic reasons and from justice to her--good Lord!
John, are you such a fool you don't understand her commercial value? Here
you have a girl, young and pretty" (always make allowances for the warmth
of argument), "with rare gifts and qualifications, who handles her
audience like a magician, and you cheapen her like this? Placing her in
the highest position only to cast her down again to the lowest. If she is
only fit for the ballet, you insult your public by offering her in a
leading part; if she's fit for the leading part, you insult her by
lowering her to the ballet; but anyway I'm damned if I ever saw a
merchant before who deliberately cheapened his own wares!"

If the floor could have opened I would have been its willing victim, and
I am sure if Mr. Davenport had known that I would have to pay for every
sharp word spoken, he would have restrained his too free speech for my
sake--even though he was never able to do so for his own.

And what a pity it was, for he not only often wounded his friends, but
worse still, he injured himself by flinging the most boome