reflecting happenings in real life.

When Mr. Daly had "L'Article 47" on, at the 5th Avenue Theatre, for
instance, the key-note of the play was the insanity of the heroine. In
the second, most important act, before her madness had been openly
proclaimed, it had to be indicated simply by manner, tone, and gesture;
and the one action of drawing the knee up into her clasping arms, and
then swaying the body mechanically from side to side, while muttering
rapidly to herself, thrilled the audience with the conviction of her
affliction more subtly than words could have done. One night, when that
act was on, I had just begun to sway from side to side, when from the
auditorium there arose one long, _long_, agonizing wail, and that wail
was followed by the heavy falling of a woman's body from her chair into
the centre aisle.

In an instant all was confusion, every one sprang to his feet; even the
musicians, who were playing some creepy, incidental music, as was the
fashion then, stopped and half rose from their places. It was a dreadful
moment! Somehow I kept a desperate hold upon my strained and startled
nerves and swayed on from side to side. Mr. Stoepel, the leader, glanced
at me. I caught his eye and said quick and low, "Play! play!"

[Illustration: _Clara Morris in "L'Article 47"_]

He understood; but instead of simply resuming where he had left off,
from force of habit he first gave the leader's usual three sharp taps
upon his music desk, and then--so queer a thing is an audience--those
people, brought to their feet in an agony of terror, of fire, panic, and
sudden death by a woman's cry, now at that familiar tap, tap, tap, broke
here and there into laughter. By sixes and sevens, then by tens and
twenties, they sheepishly seated themselves, only turning their heads
with pitying looks while the ushers removed the unconscious woman.

When the act was over, Mr. Daly--a man of few words on such
occasions--held my hands hard for a moment, and said, "Good girl, good
girl!" and I, pleased, deprecatingly remarked, "It was the music, sir,
that quieted them," to which he made answer, "And it was you who ordered
the music!"

Verily, no single word could be spoken on his stage without his
knowledge. Later that evening we learned that the lady who had cried out
had been brought to the theatre by friends who hoped to cheer her up
(Heaven save the mark!) and help her to forget her dreadful and recent
experience of placing her own mo