to say further that Mr. Douglass has the right to demand of each of us
subordination to the inner design of his work. I am personally very glad
always to avail myself of the author's criticism and suggestion. I hope
you will all feel the same willingness to carry out Mr. Douglass's
scenes as he has written them. Mr. Saunders, will you please give out
the parts and call a rehearsal for to-morrow at ten o'clock sharp?"

At this point all rose. Saunders, a plain little man, highly pleased
with his authority, began to bustle about, bellowing boisterously: "Here
you are now--everybody come letter-perfect to-morrow. Sharp at ten. No
lagging."

The players, accustomed to his sounding assumption of command, paid no
attention other than to clutch their rolls of type-written manuscript.
Each withdrew into the street with an air of haste.

As Helen received her portion Saunders said: "Here, Miss Merival, is a
fat part--must be yours. Jee-rusalem the golden! I'd hate to tackle that
role."

Douglass was ready to collar the ass for his impudent tone, but Helen
seemed to consider it no more than the harmless howl of a chair sliding
across the floor. She was inured to the old-time "assistant
stage-manager."

Turning to Douglass, she said, "Do you realize, Mr. Author, that we are
now actually begun upon your play?"

"No, I do not. I confess it all seems a make-believe--a joke."

"You'll not think it a joke at the end of the week. It's terribly hard
work to put on a big piece like this. If I seem apathetic in my part I
beg you not to worry. I must save myself all I can. I never begin to act
at rehearsal till I have thought the business all out in my mind. But
come, you are to lunch with us in honor of the first rehearsal, and it
is late."

"It seems a deplorable thing that you must come every morning to this
gloomy and repellent place--"

"Ah! this is a part of our life the public knows nothing of. They all
come to it--the divine Sarah, Duse--none are exempt. The glamour of the
foot-lights at night does not warm the theatre at eleven of the
morning."

"I see it does not," he answered, lightly; but in reality he felt that
something sweet and something regal was passing out of his conception of
her. To see her even seated with these commonplace men and women
detracted even from her glory, subjected her to the same laws. It was a
relief to get out into the gay street--to her carriage, and to the hotel
where the attendants hover