rom the people in the parquet. I saw
many women hide their eyes; men, with hands already raised to applaud,
kept the attitude rigidly, while their tight-pressed lips and frowning
brows showed an agony of sympathy. Then suddenly an arm was thrust
through the doorway; I knew it for the head carpenter's. Though in a
shirt sleeve, it was bare to the elbow, and not over clean, but strong
as a bough of living oak. She seized upon it and lifting herself, with
scarlet face and neck and breast, she stood once more upon her feet. And
then the storm broke loose; peal on peal of thunderous applause shook
the house. But four times in my life have I risked throwing flowers
myself; but that night mine were the first roses that fell at her feet.
She seemed dazed; quite distinctly I heard her say "off" to some one in
the entrance, "But what's the matter?"

At last she came forward. She was plump almost to stoutness, but she
moved most gracefully. Her bow was greeted with long-continued applause.
Sympathy, courtesy, encouragement, welcome--all were expressed in that
general and enthusiastic outburst.

"Why," said she after all was over, "at home they would have hissed me,
had that happened there."

"Oh!" exclaimed one who heard, "never; they could not be so cruel."

"Oh, yes," she answered, "_afterward_ they might have applauded, but
not at first. Surely they would have hissed me."

And with these words ringing in my ears, no wonder that, figuratively
speaking, I knelt at the feet of a New York audience and proudly kissed
its hand.

_CHAPTER XI

STAGE CHILDREN. MY "LITTLE BREECHES" IN "MISS MULTON"_

In the play of "Miss Multon" a number of children are required for the
first act. They are fortunately supposed to be the children of the poor,
and they come to a Christmas party. As I had that play in my
_repertoire_ for several years, I naturally came in contact with a great
number of little people, and that's just what they generally were,
little men and women, with here and there at long intervals a _real_
child.

They were of all kinds and qualities,--some well-to-do, some very poor,
some gentle and well-mannered, some wild as steers, some brazen-faced
and pushing, some sweet and shy and modest. I had one little child--a
mere tot--take hold of the ribbon with which I tied my cape and ask me
how much it was a yard; she also inquired about the quality of the
narrow lace edge on my handkerchief, and being convinced that