l eyes were ordered to be "dressed"
toward the big, canopied box.

But these well-laid plans miscarried, for this is what happened:

The curtain had risen on the assembled fun-makers; their swinging
opening chorus had given the show a rousing start, and the interlocutor
had said those well-known introductory minstrel words, "Gentlemen, be
seated." The royal party was well bestowed in its place and every
gleaming eyeball on the stage was centered on the glittering
representatives of the reigning house of Britain. Just at that moment a
flutter ran through the theater. The only remaining vacant box, and
opposite to the one used by the royal family, was suddenly occupied by
the most entrancing and radiant feminine vision that these American
minstrels had ever seen. It was Lily Langtry, then in the full tide of
her marvelous beauty, and wearing an extremely low-cut evening gown.

The Mastodons were only human. They had never beheld such loveliness, to
say nothing of a gown cut so low. They forgot all the careful coaching
of Frohman and fixed their eyes on the beauty-show in the box.

Charles stood anxiously in the back of the house, fearing that the royal
displeasure would be aroused. But his fears were groundless. The
hypnotized minstrels on the stage were only part of an admiring host
that had for its most distinguished head the Prince of Wales himself.

The "Forty--Count 'Em--Forty" now became the vogue in London. Royalty
had set the stamp of its approval, and aristocracy flocked. One night in
the momentary absence of the chief usher, Charles, who was always on the
job, escorted a distinguished group of nobility to a box. After bowing
them in a member of the party slipped a shilling into his hand, which
Frohman, of course, refused.

"Take it, you beggar," said the peer, with some irritation, throwing the
coin at him.

"Thank you, sir," responded Frohman, picking it up and slipping it into
his pocket. He kept it as a lucky-piece for twenty years, often telling
the story of how he got it.

On Christmas Day, 1880, came a concrete evidence of the affection in
which Charles was held by his minstrel colleagues. They assembled on the
stage of Her Majesty's Theater and presented him with a gold watch and
chain. The charm was a tiny reproduction of the famous safe that Charles
had introduced into the company, and which was his inseparable
companion. Charles never carried a watch, and this timepiece, together
with many oth