he mother's charge, and before he had them
reformed I had written Mr. Macaulay that I was ready to consider to
accept the offered engagement, if, etc., etc., and then put on my hat and
jacket and went forth and cleverly showed, first the offered engagement
to arouse my victimized parent's hopes, then descanted upon the
opposition offered to my acceptance of it, and when _she_ was warmed with
indignation I confessed to using her as my principal weapon--even
admitted making up some speeches, and being hot and pleased, indignant
and proud, she forgave me, and I bit my lips hard to keep silence about a
great hope that she might possibly go with me to that new engagement;
but, to spare her a possible disappointment, I held my peace.

Later, when everything was seemingly settled and only the contract left
to sign, came the amazing suggestion from Mr. Macaulay, that, because of
my youth, I would undoubtedly be perfectly willing to let him reserve a
few heavy _parts_ for his wife's acting. It is quite needless for me to
explain that the few _parts_ to be reserved were the choicest of the
legitimate drama. And then an amusing thing came to pass. I, who was so
lacking in self-confidence, so backward and retiring, so easily cast down
by a look of disapprobation, suddenly developed (on paper) an ability to
stand up for my rights that was startling. By return mail I informed Mr.
Macaulay that my youth did not affect me in the manner he anticipated;
that I was not willing to resign all those important parts to another--no
matter whose wife that other happened to be.

A long, argumentative, soothing sort of letter came back to me, ending
with the positive conviction that I would yield two parts to his
wife--great pets of hers they were, too, and one of them being _Lady
Macbeth_, I would of course be grateful to have it taken off my hands,
while _Julia_, in "The Hunchback," had really come to be considered, in
Cincinnati, as Miss Johnson's special property--Miss Rachael Johnson
being the stage name of Mrs. Macaulay.

Had he asked two _parts_ in the first place I would have granted them,
but now my blood was up (on paper, mind you), and with swift decision I
boldly threw the engagement up, declaring I would be the leading woman or
nothing. For, you see, I had been in the frying-pan of one family theatre
all my dramatic life, and I was not willing to throw myself at once into
the fire of another one.

The next letter contained a great