her foothold in London--the great art market.

This is a "congenial" day's work, which may be repeated for weeks,
and it occurs on an average in every three months. The adventure of it
stales very quickly.

Let there be no mistake in the mind of the reader. This is not only
the experience of a would-be actress, a well-trained, medal-laden
aspirant from one of the good dramatic schools, but is one of the
bitter and frequent experiences of the thoroughly capable, trained,
and occasionally well-salaried actress, who has failed to arrive,
during her eighteen to twenty years of experience, at the much
coveted, and supposedly safe position at the top of the theatrical
ladder.

Suppose our average actress is lucky, and her letter of introduction
gains her a small part in the London production. Into her three lines
she tries to crowd all she can of what she has learned from teachers
and experience. It is her opportunity. She has stepped forward amongst
those fortunate ones whose names are mentioned in the programme.
She starts for rehearsal happily enough from the little room in
Bloomsbury, passes the door-keeper without question, and takes up her
stand in the wings. There she stays three hours. She has companionship
in hushed whispers, and the right to exist. At two o'clock her act has
not yet been reached, and the artists are allowed to leave the theatre
for half an hour to get lunch. As she is not paid for rehearsals,
she cannot afford more than sixpence for a meal; so her repast is
necessarily a light one. At five, rehearsal is dismissed, and she
has gone through her part twice. Five minutes would cover her actual
acting for the day; and having stood about for nearly six hours she
walks back home to her room.

As the play nears production, the rehearsal hours lengthen, and the
lunch times shorten. Her own hoard of savings offer her less and less
to spend on food, and when finally the play is produced--let us face
the worst--it not infrequently occurs that the run of the piece may
end in three weeks. She has rehearsed for four weeks, has been glad
to accept L2 for her tiny part, and out of that short run, which
represents L6, she must save enough to tide her over the next few
weeks, or perhaps months, until she gets her next engagement, more
unpaid rehearsals, and perhaps another short run. There is always
wearing anxiety, and the unpleasing, thankless, humiliating searching
for work, under the most distasteful conditio