inking about it last night. Why not
lighten it up a little? Why shouldn't an actor dress as well for a
company of strangers at a reception? Ought to make it as cheerful as we
can."

"Yes," said Tinker, nodding. "Something in that. I believe they work
better. I must say I never saw much better work than those people were
doing this morning. It was a fine rehearsal."

"It's a fine company," Potter said warmly. "They're the best people I
ever had. They're all good, every one of them, and they're putting their
hearts into this play. It's the kind of work that makes me proud to
be an actor. I am proud to be an actor! Is there anything better?"
He touched the young playwright on the arm, a gesture that hinted
affection. "Stewart Canby," he said, "I want to tell you I think we're
going to make a big thing out of this play. It's going to be the best
I've ever done. It's going to be beautiful!"

From the doorway into the lobby of the hotel there came a pretty sound
of girlish voices whispering and laughing excitedly, and, glancing that
way, the three men beheld a group of peering nymphs who fled, delighted.

"Ladies stop to rubber at Mr. Potter," explained the remarkable
headwaiter over the star's shoulder. "Mr. Potter, it's time you got
marrit, anyhow. You git marrit, you don't git stared at so much!" He
paused not for a reply, but hastened away to countermand the order of
another customer.

"Married," said Potter musingly. "Well, there is such a thing as
remaining a bachelor too long--even for an actor."

"Widower, either," assented Mr. Tinker as from a gentle reverie. "A
man's never too old to get married."

His employer looked at him somewhat disapprovingly, but said nothing;
and presently the three rose, without vocal suggestion from any of them,
and strolled thoughtfully back to the theatre, pausing a moment by the
way, while Tinker bought a white carnation for his buttonhole. There was
a good deal, he remarked absent-mindedly, in what Mr. Potter had said
about lightening up a rehearsal.

Probably there never was a more lightened-up rehearsal than that
afternoon's. Potter's amiability continued;--nay, it increased: he was
cordial; he was angelic; he was exalted and unprecedented. A stranger
would have thought Packer the person in control; and the actors, losing
their nervousness, were allowed to display not only their energy but
their intelligence. The stage became a cheery workshop, where ambition
flourished and