support a
serious attempt at playwriting. I claim that a play may do something
more than amuse--it may _interest_. There is a wide difference, you will
see. To be an amusement merely is to degrade our stage to the level of a
Punch-and-Judy show. I am sorry for tired men and weary women, but as a
dramatist I can't afford to take their troubles into account. I am
writing for those who are mentally alert and willing to support plays
that have at least the dignity of intention which lies in our best
novels. This does not mean gloomy plays or problem plays, but it does
mean conscientious study of American life. If you like me as well after
the close of the play"--he made dramatic pause--"well I shall not be
able to sleep to-night. I sincerely thank you. You have given me a fair
hearing--that is all I can ask--and I am very grateful."

This little speech seemed to please his auditors, but his real reward
came when Helen met him at the wings and caught his arm to her side in
an ecstatic little hug. "You did beautifully! You make me afraid of you
when you stand tall and grand like that. You were scared though. I
could see that."

"You deserted me," he answered, in mock accusation. "You led me into the
crackling musketry and ran away."

"I wanted to see of what metal you were made," she answered, and fled to
her dressing-room to prepare for the final act.

"Now for the real test," said the novelist, with a kindly smile. "I
think we could all write plays if it were not for the difficulty of
ending them."

"I begin to tremble for my climax," Douglass answered. "It is so
important to leave a sweet and sonorous sound in the ear at the last. It
must die on the sense like the sound of a bell."

"It's a remarkable achievement, do you know," began the English critic,
"to carry a parable along with a realistic study of life. I can't really
see how you're coming out."

"I don't know myself," replied Douglass.

The play closed quietly, with a subjective climax so deep, so true to
human nature that it laid hold upon every heart. The applause was slow
in rising, but grew in power till it filled the theatre like some great
anthem. No one rose, no one was putting on wraps. The spell lasted till
the curtain rose three times on the final picture.

Douglass could not speak as the critic shook his hand. It was so much
more affecting than he had dared to hope. To sit there while his ideals,
his hopes, his best thoughts, his finest concep