th an evil liquid--so
her pure heart broke at contact with her mother's shame. Poor, loving,
little base-born! Pathetic little marplot! Seeing herself as only a
stumbling-block to others, she sought self-effacement beneath the gentle
waters of the lily-pond. And early in that last act, as her drowned body,
carried in the arms of the two men who had loved her, was laid before the
starting eyes of the guilty mother, and the loving, forgiving, pleading
letter of the suicide was read above her, actual sobs rose from the front
of the house. It _was_ a heart-breaking scene.

But when the curtain fell, oh! what a very whirlwind broke loose in that
little theatre! The curtain shot up and down, up and down, and then, to
my amazement, Mr. Daly signaled for me to go before the curtain, and I
couldn't move. He stamped his foot and shouted: "Come over here and take
this call!" and I called back: "I can't! I am all pinned up, so I can't
walk!"

For, that my skirts might not fall away from my ankles, when I was being
carried across the stage, I had stood upon a chair and had my garments
tightly wound about me and securely fastened, and unfortunately the pins
were behind--and I all trussed up, nice and tight and helpless.

Mr. Daly came tearing over to me, and down he went upon his knee to try
to free me, but a muttered "D----n!" told me that he could not find the
pins, and the applause, oh, the precious applause that was being wasted
out there! Suddenly he rose--tossed that extraordinary hat of his off,
picked me up in his arms and carried me like a big property doll to the
curtain's side, signaled it up, and, with his arm about me, supported me
on to the stage. Oh, but I was proud to stand there with him, for in
those days he would not make the simplest speech; would not show himself
even. Why, at the banquet of his own giving, he hid behind a big floral
piece and made Mr. Oakey Hall speak for him. And yet he had been pleased
enough with my work to bring me there himself. I saw his hand upon my
shoulder, and suddenly I stooped my head and kissed it, in purest
gratitude.

Afterward, when I had been unpinned, as we walked through the entrance
together, he said, with a gleeful laugh: "This is the third and greatest,
but we share it."

"The third what?" I asked.

"The third surprise," he answered. "First you surprised the town in 'Man
and Wife'; second, you surprised _me_ in 'L'Article 47'; now 'Alixe'--the
greatest of all--surpri