his level brows that was funnier than even his blue clothing--and
after that one Parthian glance at the audience, he invariably toddled to
me, and hid his face in my dress. From the very first night the child
was called "Little Breeches," and to this day I know her by no other
name.

Time passed by fast--so fast; years came, years went. "Miss Multon" had
been lying by for a number of seasons. "Renee de Moray," "Odette,"
"Raymonde," etc., had been in use; then some one asked for "Miss
Multon," and she rose obediently from her trunk, took her manuscript
from the shelf, and presented herself at command. One evening, in a
Southern California city, as I left my room ready for the first act of
this play, the door-man told me a young woman had coaxed so hard to see
me, for just one moment, that ignoring orders he had come to ask me if
he might bring her in; she was not begging for anything, just a moment's
interview. Rather wearily I gave permission, and in a few moments I saw
him directing her toward me. A very slender, very young bit of a woman,
a mere girl, in fact, though she held in her arms a small white bundle.
As she came smilingly up to me, I perceived that she was very blond. I
bowed and said "Good evening" to her, but she kept looking in smiling
silence at me for a moment or two, then said eagerly, "Don't you know
me, Miss Morris?"

I looked hard at her. "No," I said; "and if I have met you before, it's
strange, for while I cannot remember names, my memory for faces is
remarkable."

"Oh," she said, in deep disappointment, "can't you remember me at
all--not at all?"

Her face fell, she pushed out her nether lip, she knit her level,
flaxen brows.

I leaned forward suddenly and touched her hand, saying, "You are
not--you can't be--my little--"

"Yes, I am," she answered delightedly. "I am Little Breeches."

"And this?" I asked, touching the white bundle.

"Oh," she cried, "this is _my_ Little Breeches; but I shan't dress him
in bright blue."

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "how old are you, and how old am I?"

"Well," she replied, "I'm almost eighteen, and as you look just exactly
as you did when I saw you last, it doesn't matter, so far as I can see,
how many years have passed." (Oh, clever Little Breeches!)

Then, having had Little Breeches 2d kissed and honestly admired, she
trotted away satisfied; and only as I made my entrance on the stage did
it occur to me that I had not asked her name; so she ends