ace, with many fascinating old shops. Frohman loved
to prowl around, look in the shop windows, and talk to the tradesmen,
who came to know and love him and look forward to his advent with the
keenest interest. To them he was not the great American theatrical
magnate, but a simple, kindly, interested human being who inquired about
their babies and who had a big and generous nature.

Frohman once made this remark about the Marlow antique shops: "They're
great. When I buy things the proprietor always tells me whether they are
real or only fake stuff. That's because I'm one of his friends." It was
typical of the man that he was as proud of this friendship as with that
of a prince.

On the tramps through Marlow he was often accompanied by Miss Chase and
Haddon Chambers. He had three particular friends in the town. One was
Muriel Kilby, daughter of the keeper of The Compleat Angler. When
Frohman first went to Marlow she was a slip of a child. He watched her
grow up with an increasing pride. This great and busy man found time in
New York to write her notes full of friendly affection. A few days
before the _Lusitania_ went down she received a note from him saying
that he was soon to sail, and looked forward with eagerness to his usual
stay at Marlow.

Through Miss Kilby Frohman became more intimately a part of the local
life of Marlow. She was head of the Marlow Amateur Dramatic Society,
which gave an amateur play every year. Frohman became a member, paid the
five shillings annual dues, and whenever it was possible he went to
their performances. As a matter of fact, the Marlow Dramatic Society has
probably the most distinguished non-resident membership in the world,
for besides Frohman (and through him) it includes Barrie, Haddon
Chambers, Pauline Chase, Marie Lohr, William Gillette, and Marc Klaw.
Frohman always took his close American friends to Marlow. One of the
prices they paid was membership in the amateur dramatic society.

Like every really great man, Charles Frohman was tremendously simple, as
his friendship with W. R. Clark, the Marlow butcher, shows. Clark is a
big, ruddy, John Bull sort of man, whose shop is one of the main sights
of High Street in the village. Frohman regarded his day at Marlow
incomplete without a visit to Clark. One day he met Clark dressed up in
his best clothes. He asked Clark where he was going.

"I am going to visit my pigs," replied the butcher. Frohman thought this
a great joke, and ne