sked me to take care of his watch and
chain during his combat scene, and my pride of bearing was most unseemly,
and the other ballet-girls loved me not at all, for you see they, too,
knew he was six feet tall and handsome.

CHAPTER SEVENTH

I find I am in a "Family Theatre"--I Fare Forth away from my Mother,
and in Columbus I Shelter under the wing of Mrs. Bradshaw.

This theatre in which I found myself was, in professional parlance, a
family theatre, a thing abhorred by many, especially by actresses. Not
much wonder either, for even as the green bay tree flourisheth in the
psalm, so does nepotism flourish in the family theatre; and when it's a
case of the managerial _Monsieur_, _Madame_, _et Bebes_ all acting, many
are the tears, sobs, and hot words that follow upon the absorption by
these three of all the good parts, while all the poor ones are placed
with strictest justice where they belong. At that time men and women were
engaged each for a special "line of business," and to ask anyone to act
outside of his "line" was an offence not lightly passed over.

For the benefit of those who may not be familiar with theatrical terms of
procedure, I will state that a company was generally made up of a leading
man (heroes, of course), first old man, second old man, heavy man, first
comedian, second comedian, juvenile man, walking gentleman, and utility
man.

That term, "heavy man," of course had no reference to the actor's
physical condition, but it generally implied a deep voice, heavy
eyebrows, and a perfect willingness to stab in the back or smilingly to
poison the wine of the noblest hero or the fairest heroine in the
business; so the professional player of villains was a heavy man.

The juvenile man may have left juvenility far, far behind him in reality,
but if his back was flat, his eyes large and hair good; he would support
old mothers, be falsely accused of thefts, and win wealthy sweethearts in
last acts, with great _eclat_--as juvenile men were expected to do.

Walking gentlemen didn't walk all the time; truth to tell, they stood
about and pretended a deep interest in other people's affairs, most of
the time. They were those absent Pauls or Georges that are talked about
continually by sweethearts or friends or irate fathers, and finally
appear just at the end of everything, simply to prove they really do
exist, and to hold a lady's hand, while the curtain falls on the
characters, all nicely lined