f these
things could really be: and a weary chorus forgot its weariness and
gave encore after encore with a snap and vim which even Mr. Johnson
Miller was obliged to own approximated to something like it. Nothing
to touch the work of his choruses of the old days, of course, but
nevertheless fair, quite fair.

The spirits of the company revived. Optimism reigned. Principals
smiled happily and said they had believed in the thing all along. The
ladies and gentlemen of the ensemble chattered contentedly of a year's
run in New York. And the citizens of Hartford fought for seats, and,
if they could not get seats, stood up at the back.

Of these things Otis Pilkington was not aware. He had sold his
interest in the piece two weeks ago for ten thousand dollars to a
lawyer acting for some client unknown, and was glad to feel that he
had saved something out of the wreck.

CHAPTER XVIII

JILL RECEIVES NOTICE

I

The violins soared to one last high note; the bassoon uttered a final
moan; the pensive person at the end of the orchestra-pit just under
Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim's box, whose duty it was to slam the drum at
stated intervals, gave that much-enduring instrument a concluding
wallop; and, laying aside his weapons, allowed his thoughts to stray
in the direction of cooling drinks. Mr. Saltzburg lowered the baton
which he had stretched quivering towards the roof and sat down and
mopped his forehead. The curtain fell on the first act of "The Rose of
America," and simultaneously tremendous applause broke out from all
over the Gotham Theatre, which was crammed from floor to roof with
that heterogeneous collection of humanity which makes up the audience
of a New York opening performance. The applause continued like the
breaking of waves on a stony beach. The curtain rose and fell, rose
and fell, rose and fell again. An usher, stealing down the central
aisle, gave to Mr. Saltzburg an enormous bouquet of American Beauty
roses, which he handed to the prima donna, who took it with a
brilliant smile and a bow, nicely combining humility with joyful
surprise. The applause, which had begun to slacken, gathered strength
again. It was a superb bouquet, nearly as big as Mr. Saltzburg
himself. It had cost the prima donna close on a hundred dollars that
morning at Thorley's, but it was worth every cent of the money.

The house-lights went up. The audience began to move up the aisles to
stretch its legs and discuss the piece duri