o assist at it. In _The Schoolmistress_, we would not for
worlds miss Peggy Hesseltine's party, which we know awaits us in Act II.
An excellent example, of a more serious order, is to be found in _The
Benefit of the Doubt_. When poor Theo, rebuffed by her husband's chilly
scepticism, goes off on some manifestly harebrained errand, we divine,
as do her relatives, that she is about to commit social suicide by
seeking out John Allingham; and we feel more than curiosity as to the
event--we feel active concern, almost anxiety, as though our own
personal interests were involved. Our anticipation is heightened, too,
when we see Sir Fletcher Portwood and Mrs. Cloys set off upon her track.
This gives us a definite point to which to look forward, while leaving
the actual course of events entirely undefined. It fulfils one of the
great ends of craftsmanship, in foreshadowing without forestalling an
intensely interesting conjuncture of affairs.

I have laid stress on the importance of carrying forward the interest of
the audience because it is a detail that is often overlooked. There is,
as a rule, no difficulty in the matter, always assuming that the theme
be not inherently devoid of interest. One could mention many plays in
which the author has, from sheer inadvertence, failed to carry forward
the interest of the first act, though a very little readjustment, or a
trifling exercise of invention, would have enabled him to do so.
_Pillars of Society_, indeed, may be taken as an instance, though not a
very flagrant one. Such interest as we feel at the end of the first act
is vague and unfocused. We are sure that something is to come of the
return of Lona and Johan, but we have no inkling as to what that
something may be. If we guess that the so-called black sheep of the
family will prove to be the white sheep, it is only because we know that
it is Ibsen's habit to attack respectability and criticize accepted
moral values--it is not because of anything that he has told us, or
hinted to us, in the play itself. In no other case does he leave our
interest at such a loose end as in this, his prentice-work in modern
drama. In _The League of Youth_, an earlier play, but of an altogether
lighter type, the interest is much more definitely carried forward at
the end of the first act. Stensgaard has attacked Chamberlain Bratsberg
in a rousing speech, and the Chamberlain has been induced to believe
that the attack was directed not against himself