hought of his treatment of the
family. He replied with an eloquent philippic directed at the vices of
a bloated aristocracy (this was the ante-bellum age, before things had
been made so much safer for democracy). Almost before the applause of
the gallery had died down, the father burst upon the scene, furious
at the report that this hired commercial had been making love to his
daughter.

Explanations follow which appease his wrath, and he is further mollified
by the statement that the Master of Efficiency had cut down the expenses
of his _menage_ by some nineteen thousand dollars. But why, when his
feats of economy had all the time been the matter of his offence in the
children's eyes, the announcement of the total should have favourably
affected the girl's heart I cannot say, and I don't think anybody else
can. Yet the fact remains that the next moment she undertakes to marry
the object of her previous loathing.

To have arrived naturally at such an end would have meant a couple more
Acts, in which the man _Hedge_ might have had time to live down the
evil effects of his efficiency. But with so much economy in the air the
author appears to have caught the infection of it and economised in his
processes to save our time. That is the kindest excuse I can find for
him.

As for the moral, it would seem to be that, if (as is more than
probable) you have no copy of the works of ARISTOTLE in your Fifth
Avenue library, and imagine, never having heard of the happy mean,
that virtue lies in one of two excesses--an excess of idle luxury or an
excess of efficiency--the former is the one to choose.

Mr. DONALD CALTHROP as _Hedge_ bore the burden of the play with a
high hand that had a very sure touch. It was extraordinary with what
alertness and confidence he commanded every situation--except, of
course, the absurd climax which nobody could hope to handle. Mr. C. V.
FRANCE, as the English butler (ex-clergyman) who had taken a long
time to learn how to disfigure his aspirates (out of deference to the
American legend), gave a very fresh and attractive performance. Some of
the best things in the dialogue--not always very humorous--were given
to little _Alice Brook_ (aged 14), one of those precocities for which
America has always held the world's record. I don't know, and should not
think of asking, Miss ANN TREVOR'S age, but she looked to me a little
old for the part of this child, however precocious. Miss MARJORIE GORDON
played w