s superb if darksome play
"Midchannel" to give her her largest opportunity.

When Frohman told her about this play he said: "Ethel, I have a big
play, but it is dark and sad. I don't think you want to do it."

After she had heard the story she said, impulsively: "You are wrong. I
want to play this part very much."

"All right," said Frohman. "Go ahead."

[Illustration: _ETHEL BARRYMORE_]

As _Zoe Blundell_ she had a triumph. In this character she was
artistically reborn. The sweetness and girlishness now stood aside in
the presence of a somber and haunting tragedy that was real. Miss
Barrymore literally made the critics sit up. It recorded a distinct
epoch in her career, and, as in other instances with a Pinero play, the
American success far exceeded its English popularity.

When Miss Barrymore did "The Twelve-Pound Look," by Barrie, the
following year, she only added to the conviction that she was in many
respects the most versatile and gifted of the younger American
actresses. Frohman loved "The Twelve-Pound Look" as he loved few plays.
Its only rival in his regard was "Peter Pan." He went to every
rehearsal, he saw it at every possible opportunity. Like most others, he
realized that into this one act of intense life was crowded all the
human drama, all the human tragedy.

Miss Barrymore now sped from grave to gay. When the time came for her to
rehearse Barrie's fascinating skit, "A Slice of Life," Frohman was ill
at the Knickerbocker Hotel. He was very much interested in this little
play, so the rehearsals were held in his rooms at the hotel. There were
only three people in the cast--Miss Barrymore, her brother John, and
Hattie Williams. It was so excruciatingly funny that Frohman would often
call up the Empire and say:

"Send Ethel over to rehearse. I want to forget my pains."

Charles Frohman lived to see his great expectations of Ethel Barrymore
realized. He found her the winsome slip of a fascinating girl; he last
beheld her in the full flower of her maturing art. He was very much
interested in her transition from the seriousness of "The Shadow" into
the wholesome humor and womanliness of "Our Mrs. McChesney," a part he
had planned for her before his final departure. It was one of the many
swift changes that Miss Barrymore has made, and had he lived he would
have found still another cause for infinite satisfaction with her.

* * *

Another star now swam into the Frohman ken. This was the way of it: