arks put his hand on her shoulder and
said solemnly:--

"You ought to be devilish glad you're not in Daly's company; he'd cut
that dance out if you were."

One evening in New Orleans, when we were playing "Camille," a coloured
girl, who had served me as dressing-maid, came to see me, and I gave her
a "pass," that she might see from the "front" the play she had so often
dressed me for. She went to the gallery and found herself next to a
young black man, who had brought his sweetheart to see her first play.

The girl was greatly impressed and easily moved, and at the fourth act,
when Armand hurled the money at me, striking me in the face, she turned
to her young man, saying savagely, "You, Dave, you got ter lay for dat
white man ter night, an' lick der life outen him."

Next moment I had fallen at Armand's feet. The curtain was down and the
girl was excitedly declaring, I was dead! while Dave assured her over
and over again, "No, honey, she carn't be dead yit, 'cause, don' yer
see, der's anudder act, an' she just nacherly's got ter be in it."

When, however, the last act was on, it was Dave himself who did the
business. The pathetic death scene was almost over, when applause broke
from the upper part of the house. Instantly a mighty and unmistakable
negro voice, said: "Hush--hush! She's climin' der golden stair dis time,
shure--keep still!"

My devoted "Nannine" leaned over me to hide my laughing face from the
audience, who quickly recovered from the interruption, while for once
Camille, the heart-broken, died with a laugh in her throat.

In the same city I had, one matinee, to come down three steps on to the
stage. I was quite gorgeous in one of my best gowns; for one likes to
dress for Southern girls, they are so candidly pleased with your pretty
things. My skirt caught on a nail at the very top step, so that when I
reached the stage my train was stretched out full length, and in the
effort a scene-hand made to free it, it turned over, so that the
rose-pink lining could be plainly seen, when an awed voice exclaimed,
"For de Lor's sake, dat woman's silk lin'd clear frou!" and the
performance began in a gale of laughter.

_CHAPTER VI

"ODETTE" IN THE WEST. A CHILD'S FIRST PLAY_

An odd and somewhat touching little incident occurred one evening when
we were in the far Northwest. There was a blizzard on just then, and the
cold was something terrible. I had a severe attack of throat trouble,
and my doctor