ngaged in giving a practical demonstration
of hysterical stunts. She declared she would not go on any more. She was
going to quit right there and then. It required all of Handy's
persuasive eloquence to prevail on her to finish the performance.
_Camille_ seemed to be firm in her resolve.

"'Tis only the dying scene," urged Handy. "It's dead easy, and the merit
of it is that it is the best act of all for you. Only for those
unfortunate buttons everything would have gone off all serene. We were
getting into the spirit of the thing when the mishap broke everything
all up. I'll kill that blithering property man when I lay hands on him."

Fogg had already started on the warpath after Smith, but Smith, having
an intuitive knowledge that a meeting between himself and his leading
man would result in strained relations, and not doubting for an instant
that discretion is the better part of valor, beat a hasty retreat from
the theatre, costumed and made up as he was, not even remaining long
enough to wash the make-up from his face.

It was debatable for several minutes whether the "angel" would finish
_Camille_ or some obliging member of the company would undertake the
job. None of the ladies appeared ambitious to shuffle off the mortal
coil of the _Lady of the Camellias_. Finally, after a successful siege
of coaxing, pleading, imploring, and entreating on the part of Handy,
the "angel" consented. The curtain went up. _Camille_, under the
circumstances, did the best she could in speaking the lines. An
occasional titter from the audience conveyed only too plainly the
information that the button incident was not yet forgotten.
Notwithstanding, poor _Camille_ struggled bravely on. It was uphill
work, but she persevered. At length the fateful moment arrived for
_Armand_ to make his entrance. No sooner did he set his foot on the
stage in view of the audience then again the voice of the serio-comic
humorist in front, in the same weird tone, was, it must have been
drowned in the laughter of the assemblage.

"Ring down the curtain," piteously pleaded _Camille_ in an undertone
from her deathbed.

Handy stood in the wings, ready for any emergency likely to turn up, and
in a very audible prompt whisper replied: "Go on, go on with the scene.
Die as fast as you can. Don't give them any fancy dying frills, but
croak at once and have done with it."

Whether the people in front overheard the manager's imperative prompting
or that the echo