good. Lots of people read that
talky-talk writing nowadays. Not in New York, but in road-towns, where
they have plenty of time. This fellow's never against any show much,
unless he takes a notion. You slip 'dolsy far nienty' or something about
Danty or logarithms somewhere into your play, where it won't delay the
action much, and he'll be for you."

Canby nodded and laughed eagerly. Tinker seemed to take it for granted
that "Roderick Hanscom" was to be produced in spite of "another play I
have been considering."

"There aren't any critics, I tell you!" Potter stormed. "Mounet-Sully!"

"Well," said old Tinker quietly, "I'd like to believe it, but people
making a living that way have ruined a good many million dollars' worth
of property in this town. Some of it was very good property." He paused,
and added: "Some of it was mine, too."

"Good property?" said the playwright with fresh uneasiness. "You mean
the critics sometimes ruin a good play?"

"How do they know a good play--or good acting?" Tinker returned
placidly. "Every play you ever saw in your life, some people in the
audience said they thought it was good; some said it was bad. How do
critics know any more about it than anybody else? For instance, how can
anybody that hasn't been in the business tell what's good acting and
what's a good part?"

"But a critic--aren't critics in the bus--"

"No. They aren't theatrical people," said Tinker dryly. "They're
writers."

"But some of them must have studied from the inside," Canby urged,
feeling that "Roderick Hanscom's" chances were getting slighter and
slighter. "Some of them must have either been managers for a while, or
actors--or had plays pro--"

"No," said Tinker. "If they had they wouldn't do for critics. They
wouldn't have the heart."

"They oughtn't to have so much power!" the young man exclaimed
passionately. "Think of a playwright working on his play--two years,
maybe--night after night--and then, all in one swoop, these fellows that
you say don't know anything--"

"Power!" Potter laughed contemptuously. "Tinker, you're in your dotage!
Look at what I've done: Haven't I made my way in spite of everything
they could do to stifle me? And have I ever compromised for one moment?
Haven't I gone my own way, absolutely?"

"Yes." Tinker's face was more cryptic than usual. "Yes, indeed!"

"Power! Haven't I made them eat out of my hand? Look at that ass--glad
to crawl in here and nibble a crust from my t