re many and
rehearsal already on, would carefully cut off every signature and utterly
destroy them, then pile the unread letters up, and, I don't know what
their final end was, but he remarked with knit brows, as he caught me
watching him at his work one morning: "They," pointing to the pile of
mutilated letters, "they are harmless now, little one; their sting lies
in the tail!" and when a certain free and easy actor, laughingly picked
up a very elegantly written note, and said: "I can read it, can't I, now
the signature is gone?" He answered, shortly: "The woman's folly is no
excuse for our knavery--lay the letter down, please!"

I played the _Player-Queen_ to my great joy, and in the "Marble Heart" I
was one of the group of three statues in the first act. We were supposed
to represent _Lais_, _Aspasia_, and _Phryne_, and when we read the cast,
I glanced at the other girls (we were not strikingly handsome), and
remarked, gravely: "Well, it's a comfort to know that we look so like the
three beautiful Grecians."

A laugh at our backs brought us around suddenly to face Mr. Booth, who
said to me: "You satirical little wretch, how do you come to know these
Grecian ladies? Perhaps you have the advantage of them in being
all-beautiful within?"

"I wish it would strike outward, then," I answered; "you know it's always
best to have things come to the surface!"

"I know some very precious things are hidden from common sight, and I
know, too, you caught my meaning in the first place; good-night." And he
left us.

We had been told to descend to the stage at night with our white robes
hanging free and straight, that Mr. Booth himself might drape them as we
stood upon the pedestal. It really is a charming picture, that of the
statues in the first act. Against a backing of black velvet, the three
white figures, carefully posed, strongly lighted, stand out so
marble-like, that when they slowly turn their faces and point to their
chosen master, the effect is uncanny enough to chill the looker-on.

Well, with white wigs, white tights, and white robes, and half strangled
with the powder we had inhaled in our efforts to make our lips stay
white, we cautiously descended the stairs. We dared not talk, we dared
not blink our eyes, for fear of disturbing the coat of powder; we were
lifted to the pedestal and took our places as we expected to stand. Then
Mr. Booth came, such a picture in his Greek garments as made even the men
exclaim a