ses you as well as me!"

He stopped, stepped in front of me and asked: "What do you most wish
for?"

I stared at him. He added, "About your home, say?"

And swiftly I made answer: "A writing-desk; why?"

He laughed a little and said: "Good-night, now. Oh, by the way, there's a
forfeit against you for not wearing your bustle to-night."

But I was not greatly alarmed or excited--not half so much as I was next
day, about four o'clock, when some men drove up and insisted upon leaving
in my room a handsome inlaid desk that was taller than I was. At first I
protested, but a card, saying that it was "A souvenir of 'Alixe,' from
your manager and friend, A. Daly," changed my bearing to one of most
unseemly pride.

In the next ten days I wrote I think to every soul I knew, and kept up my
diary with vicious exactitude, just for the pleasure of sitting before
the lovely desk, that to-day stands in my "den" in the attic. Its
mirror-door, is dim and cloudy, its sky-blue velvet writing-leaf faded to
a silvery gray, but even so it still remains "A souvenir of 'Alixe,' from
A. Daly."

CHAPTER FORTY-FIRST

Trouble about Obnoxious Lines in "Madeline Morel"--Mr. Daly's
Manipulation of Father X: In Spite of our Anxiety the Audience accepts
the Situation and the Play--Mr. Daly gives me the smallest Dog in New
York.

The last and fourth success that was granted to me under Mr. Daly's
management was in "Madeline Morel." Of course I played in many plays,
sometimes small, comparatively unimportant parts, sometimes, as in the
two-hundred-night run of "Divorce," I played a long, hard-working part,
that was without any marked characteristic or salient feature to make a
hit with.

But I only mention "Madeline Morel" because of a couple of small
incidents connected with its production. First of all, let me say that I
believe Mr. Daly, who was an ardent Catholic, was not the first manager
to give benefits to the Orphan Asylums, for I think that had long been a
custom, but he was the first to arrange those monster programmes, which
included the names of every great attraction in the city--bar none. The
result was not merely an Academy of Music literally packed, but crowds
turned from its doors. I remember what excitement there was over the
gathering together in one performance of such people as Fechter, Sothern,
Adelaide Neilson, Aimee, and Mr. and Mrs. Barney Williams. I first saw
the beautiful Mary Anderson at one of thes