aying elevator. The attitude was
not wholly devoid of pathos, to Canby's view of it. Neither was
the careworn, harried face, unharmoniously topped by a green hat so
sparklingly jaunty, not only in colour but in its shape and the angle
of its perch, that it was outright hilarious, and, above the face of
Packer, made the playwright think pityingly of a St. Patrick's Day party
holding a noisy celebration upon a hearse.

Its wearer nodded solemnly as the elevator bounced up, flashing, and
settled to the level of the floor; but the quick drop through the long
shaft seemed to do the stage-manager a disproportionate amount of good.
Halfway down he emitted a heavy "Whew!" of relief and threw back his
shoulders. He seemed to swell, to grow larger; lines verged into the
texture of his face, disappearing; and with them went care and seeming
years. Canby had casually taken him to be about forty, but so radical
was the transformation of him that, as the distance from his harrowing
overlord increased, the playwright beheld another kind of creature. In
place of the placative, middle-aged varlet, troubled and hurrying
to serve, there stepped out of the elevator, at the street level, a
deep-chested, assertive, manly adventurer, about thirty, kindly eyed,
picturesque, and careless. The green hat belonged to him perfectly.

He gave Canby a look of burlesque ruefulness over his shoulder, the
comedy appeal of one schoolboy to another as they leave a scolding
teacher on the far side of the door. "The governor does keep himself
worked up!" he laughed, as they reached the street and paused. "If it
isn't one thing, it's some thing!"

"Perhaps it's my play just now," said Canby. "I was afraid, earlier this
evening, he meant to drop it. Making so many changes may have upset his
nerves."

"Lord bless your soul! No!" exclaimed the new Packer. "His nerves are
all right! He's always the same! He can't help it!"

"I thought possibly he might have been more upset than usual," Canby
said. "There was a critic or something that--"

"No, no, Mr. Canby!" Packer chuckled. "New plays and critics, they don't
worry him any more than anything else. Of course he isn't going to be
pleased with any critics. Most of them give him splendid notices, but
they don't please him. How could they?"

"He's always the same, you think?" Canby said blankly.

"Always--always at top pitch, that is, and always unexpected. You'll see
as you get to know him. You won't know