espian's pathway to fame a rocky one; but you
must get over it, and say it right. Practise it for an hour, if need
be--yonder window, yonder winder--I mean, yonder window--until it
comes easy.

Mrs. Perkins (meekly). I have, and it doesn't seem to do any good.
I've tried and tried to get it right, but yonder window is all I can
say.

Yardsley. But yinder window is--I should say, yonder window is
correct.

Mrs. Perkins. Well, I'm just going to change it, that's all. It
shall be yonder casement.

Yardsley. Good idea. Only don't say yonder basement by mistake.

Enter Perkins, followed by Barlow.

Perkins. Here's Mr. Featherhead. He's rehearsing too. As I opened
the door he said, "Give me good-morrow."

Barlow (smiling). Yes; and Thaddeus replied, "Good-yesterday, me
friend," in tones which reminded me of Irving with bronchitis.
What's this I hear about Henderson's grandmother?

Yardsley. Thrown up the part.

Barlow. His grandmother?

Yardsley. No--idiot--Henderson. He's thrown up his grandmother--oh,
hang it!--you know what I mean.

Mrs. Perkins. I hope you're not going to net gervous, Mr. Yardsley.
If you break down, what on earth will become of the rest of us?

Yardsley. I hope not--but I am. I'm as nervous as a cat living its
ninth life. Here we are three or four hours before the performance,
and no one knows whether we'll be able to go through it or not. My
reputation as a manager is at stake. Barlow, how are you getting
along on those lines in the revelation scene?

Barlow. Had 'em down fine on the cable-car as I came up. Ha-ha!
People thought I was crazy, I guess. I was so full of it I kept
repeating it softly to myself all the way up; but when we got to that
Fourteenth Street curve the car gave a fearful lurch and fairly shook
the words "villanous viper" out of me; and as I was standing when we
began the turn, and was left confronting a testy old gentleman upon
whose feet I had trodden twice, at the finish, I nearly got into
trouble.

Perkins (wish a laugh). Made a scene, eh?

Barlow (joining in the laugh). Who wouldn't? Each time I stepped on
his foot he glared--regular Macbeth stare--like this: "Is this a
jagger which I see before me?" (Suits action to word.) But I never
let on I saw, but continued to rehearse. When the lurch came,
however, and I toppled over on top of him, grabbed his shoulders in
my hands to keep from sprawling in his lap, and hissed "villanous