, and I walked upon air, narrowly missing
being mown down by traffic, my eyes upon my feet. On the way to the
Palace I made myself repeat that lovely thing of Gelett Burgess's--

"My feet, they haul me round the house;
They hoist me up the stairs;
I only have to steer them, and
They ride me everywheres!"

I purchased an orchestra seat and inquired carelessly at what hour my
sketch (only I didn't say it was my sketch) went on. I found we were
sandwiched in between the newest Tramp Juggler and the Trained Seals!
Then I went behind and saw my gallant little company, made up and
dressed too soon, waiting in awful idleness with strained smiles and
ghastly cheer. I petted and patted them all round and cast an
agitated eye over the set. A grimy young stagehand made a minor
change for me with a languid, not unkind contempt. "What's the big
idea?" he wanted to know. "Goner slip 'em some high-brow stuff? Say,
this is the wrong pew, sister. They won't stand for nothing like that
here. Up in the Bronx, maybe--" I turned and basely fled. I went out
in front and found my place. The orchestra rollicked through the
overture and people poured in and ushers slid down the aisles and
snapped down the seats. I studied the people's faces as a gladiator
might have done in the arena. Thumbs up? Thumbs down? A row behind
me, across the aisle, sat Michael Daragh, but he did not see me. Two
petulantly pretty girls in regal furs sank into seats beyond me, and
a white-spatted, rosy-wattled gentleman in a subduedly elegant
waistcoat took the one on the end.

The annunciator flashed A and a pair of black-face comedians "opened
the show," but they did not get it very far open for people were
jamming in and elbows were silhouetted against the light. They
doggedly plugged away, firing their tragic comedy, making brave
capital even of the silences, but through my glasses I was sure I
could see the strained anxiety of their eyes. It was a relief to have
them go. Then the Trained Seals were with us, lovely things like
gentle, tidy, sleek-headed little girls. My heart was going like a
metronome set for a tarantella and my wrist-watch ticked
breathlessly--"Coming--Coming--Coming!"

If only we were Z instead of C!

"Funny thing, you know," said the occupant of the end seat,
conversati